She was so thoughtless that the idea had begun to move her to amusement; when she suddenly remembered words which Fred himself had said to her not so very long ago, and stopped short suddenly, growing very red, and naturally giving double point by her full stop and her blush to the suggestive words. “I mean it is so odd not to be able to do and say what one likes,” she went on hurriedly, faltering, and growing redder and redder in her consciousness. Fred was standing before her, leaning over the back of a chair, and looking very earnestly in her face.
“So far as I am concerned,” he said, with a smile, “I will not have your liberty curbed. You must do and say what you like without any thought of me.”
“Of you, Mr Huntley!” said Kate, with some confusion. “What should papa’s nonsense have to do with you?”
“Miss Crediton,” said Fred, seriously, “don’t you know me well enough to be frank with me at least? I might pretend to think I had nothing to do with it, but I should not deceive you. Mr Crediton is concerned for his guest and not for his daughter; but, I repeat, so far as I am concerned, you are not to be curbed in your freedom. I prefer rather to be tortured than to be sent away.”
“Tortured!” Kate echoed, under her breath, growing pale and growing red. It was wrong to permit such things to be said to her, and she had already reproved him for it. But still there was something which half pleased her in words which meant so much more than they said. She had a little struggle with herself before she could make up her mind to resist temptation, and withdraw from this dangerous amusement; and when at length she did so, and plunged into conversation with the nearest old lady, Kate felt that nothing less than the highest virtue could have moved her to such a sacrifice. It was a great deal more amusing to sit and listen to Fred Huntley’s talk, and watch him gliding along the edge of the precipice, just clearing it by a hair’s-breadth, filling the air with captivating suggestions of devotion. Could it be possible that he was so fond of her--a man of the world like Fred? Kate was one of those women who feel a kindness for the men who love them. It may be love out of place--presumptuous, uncalled-for, even treacherous; but still, poor fellow, how sad that he should be so fond of me! the woman says to herself, and is softly moved towards him with a kind of almost affectionate pity. This was heightened, in the present case, by the fact that Fred Huntley was not at all a man likely to yield to such influences; and then he too was making a struggle against temptation in which surely he deserved a little sympathy. If at any time he should be overcome by it, and speak out, then of course she would be compelled to give him a distinct answer and send him away. It would be a pity, Kate thought, with a sigh; but in the mean time he was very interesting, and she was sorry he should be so fond of her, poor fellow! Thus it will be seen that she had not consciously faltered in her allegiance. She meant to say No to Fred, firmly and clearly, if ever he should speak to her in unmistakable words; but in the mean time she was interested in him, and very curious to know what next he would say.