If Katherine had lived at this day, she would probably have spent her
time between her promise and its fulfilment in self-analysis and
introspective reasoning with her own conscience. But the women of a
century ago were not tossed about with winds of various opinions, or
made foolishly subtile by arguments about principles which ought never
to be associated with dissent. A few strong, plain dictates had been set
before Katherine as the law of her daily life; and she knew, beyond all
controversy, when she disobeyed them.

In her own heart, she called the sin she had determined to commit by its
most unequivocal name. "I shall make happy Richard; but my father I
shall deceive and disobey, and against my own soul there will be the
lie." This was the position she admitted, but every woman is Eve in some
hours of her life. The law of truth and wisdom may be in her ears, but
the apple of delight hangs within her reach, and, with a full
understanding of the consequences of disobedience, she takes the
forbidden pleasure. And if the vocal, positive command of Divinity was
unheeded by the first woman, mere mortal parents surely ought not to
wonder that their commands, though dictated by truest love and clearest
wisdom, are often lightly held, or even impotent against the voice of
some charmer, pleading personal pleasure against duty, and self-will
against the law infinitely higher and purer.

In truth, Katherine had grown very weary of the perpetual eulogies which
Batavius delivered of everything respectable and conservative. A kind of
stubbornness in evil followed her acceptance of evil. This time, at
least, she was determined to do wrong, whatever the consequences might
be. Batavius and his inflexible propriety irritated her: she had a
rebellious desire to give him little moral shocks; and she deeply
resented his constant injunctions to "remember that Joanna's and his own