"I have not always been considered trustworthy," he explained, lightly.

"People may not have understood you." There was a sweet explaining in
her voice.

"Which may have been, on the whole, fortunate for me," he answered, with
a curious smile.

"Don't," she said--"don't talk of yourself like that. I know you are
good, good, _good!_"

"Thank you," and again there came to him the throb in the throat he had
felt when their eyes first met. "Believe me," he said, "I shall always
try to be--to you," and as he spoke he raised her hand to his lips and
kissed it.

A noise startled him. Some one was approaching with uncertain footsteps
and a shuffling gait, and at the sound the girl's face turned crimson.

"Katrine, little Katrine, where are you?" a voice cried, thickly and
uncertainly, as a man came from under the gloom of the trees. There was
not a moment's hesitation. The child rose and put her arms around the
figure with a divine, womanly gesture, as though to shield him and his
infirmities from the whole world. It was the action of one ashamed to be
ashamed.

"Daddy," she said, laying her head against his shoulder, "this is Mr.
Ravenel!"