For a moment the young girl and the child were silent;
Beatrice knew not what to think of the scene, and Kate was
indulging in a hearty cry. At last she dried her eyes, and
stopped sobbing by degrees, and looking at Beatrice, said:
“Oh, ma'am, I'm so thankful that you saved me from that
horrid man!”

“How did he come to annoy you, my child?” said
Beatrice, looking affectionately at the sweet little face.

“Oh, he came in, and—and because I wouldn't go and
get him something—for I couldn't, you know. Oh, he
frightened me so!” and Kate began to sob again.

Beatrice wiped the child's eyes and got her a glass of
water, all the time soothing her with kind words.

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

“Don't speak if it makes you cry,” she said, softly.

“Oh, I am not frightened, now!”

“You are quite safe here.”

“Am I quite?”

“Yes, that rude man will not presume to come into this
room, and were he to do so, I would send him from it with a
single word.”

And Beatrice, with a disdainful motion of her hand, seemed
to wish to dismiss so insignificant a subject. Kate looked
at her attentively, for the first time, and said;

“Do you know him? I think you are too pretty and good
to know that rude man.”

Beatrice turned away.

“I am sorry that I am obliged to know him,” she said
in a low tone, “but how did you come to be pursued by
him? It was disgraceful!” added Beatrice, with a generous
flash of her proud, brilliant eye.

“I was waiting a minute for cousin, who had gone down
to see a gentleman. He left me in his room, and I was so
frightened when those rude men came in. I am not used to
such people, you know;—papa don't have any visitors like
them, and the gentlemen that come to the Hall are always
kind to me. Oh, he drew out such an ugly sharp knife, and
threatened to kill me!” added Kate, very nearly beginning
to cry again. Beatrice looked at her attentively: some recollection
seemed to be struggling in her mind.

“Strange!” she said, “I seem to have seen this child before—
somewhere—where was it?”

And she pressed her forehead, and seemed to be buried in
thought. Kate looked at her, and said, timidly:

“I am afraid ma'am, that you were busy when I came
in.”

“Yes, I was my child—but that is nothing.”

“Were you sewing? what a pretty handkerchief!”

And remembering the scene she had just passed through,
Kate used the embroidered handkerchief she had taken up to
admire, for the purpose of drying a rebellious tear.

“I was not sewing,” said Beatrice, with a look of weariness,
“I was studying. But you have not told me, my child,
how you came to be in the Raleigh.”

“Oh, cousin Alethea, and Willie, and me, came to town,
and—”

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

“Then you do not live here: but I forget—you spoke of
the Hall, and there are no halls here.”

“Oh, no: a hall is a house in the country.”

“And you came to see your cousin—a gentleman who
wears a red cloak—?”

“Oh, no! he's not my cousin—”

“Ah!” said Beatrice, her eyes suddenly dazzled with a
rapid lightning-like thought, “your cousin—what is his name—
the Hall—?”

“Cousin Champ is his name, and we all live at Effingham
Hall. My name is Catherine Effingham—but papa is
not my father.”

Beatrice sat down, murmuring.

“Effingham!—Effingham—always Effingham! Yes—
at the theatre!”

Kate misunderstood these half-audible words, and said:

“Did you ask if Effingham was our name, ma'am? Yes;
and I know papa will be mighty thankful to you and cousin
Champ too. He's a dear good fellow, and I love him dearly.”

Beatrice remained silent, and turned away her face in
order that the child might not see the painful and gloomy
expression which dimmed the eyes, and took the tender
smile from the lips.

“And you were in you—in Mr. Effingham's room—were
you, my child?” she murmured, at last.

“Yes; and cousin Champ had just gone down to see a
gentleman. He told me to wait till he came back.”

“Is he fond of you?” asked Beatrice, why she scarcely
knew.

“I know he is!” exclaimed Kate, with a bright smile
shining through her moist eyes.

“And you love him?”

“Oh, dearly! he is so kind and good!”

They were almost the very words which had escaped
from the lips of Beatrice after her interview with Charles;
and the recollection of that interview now came to efface the
bitter expression which followed little Kate's words. The
bitter smile only glanced, then flew away.

“Did your father bring you to town, my child?” she
asked, pressing her hand upon her heart to still its throbbing.

“Oh, no!” said Kate, “papa is not pleased with cousin

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

Champ.” Then regretting this speech, she added—“that
is—I mean, ma'am—cousin Champ went away from the Hall,
and hasn't been back.”

Beatrice could not look at the child.

“And is he angry?” she said.

“Who?—papa?”

“Yes,” murmured Beatrice.

“No, I don't think papa is much angry; but he don't
like cousin Champ to be here.”

“Why?” said Beatrice, in a low voice, and like a despairing
soldier turning the weapon in the wound.

“He came to see some lady here, and papa and cousin
Alethea do not like—”

“No, no—not a lady—”

There the young girl stopped, overcome, panting, avoiding
the child's look, her head drooping, her forehead burning.

“I don't know who it is,” said Kate, “but I think cousin
Alethea said it was that young actress we saw act in the
`Merchant of Venice.'”

“Do you not recollect her?” murmured Beatrice.

“Who—Miss Hallam? Oh, yes! She wore a lovely
fawn-colored silk, and was very pretty.”

“I did not know I was so completely changed,” said the
young girl, turning away and smiling painfully. Then she
said aloud:

“And so Mr. Effingham—your cousin—came to see the
actress, and his family are displeased?”

“Yes, ma'am, we all want dear cousin Champ to come
back. I don't think he ought to come here to see an actress.
She is not good enough for him, and oughtn't to distress us.”

“Oh, it is an unjust punishment!—it is unjust!” murmured
Beatrice, with tears in her eyes: but Kate neither
saw the tears nor heard these bitter words.

“I came to tell cousin Champ to-day he was too good
for her—but I didn't like to,” continued Kate, not observing
the change in the countenance of Beatrice; “we read some in
the Bible, though, and cousin Champ 'most promised to go
back with me—”

“Did he!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Oh, take him back!”

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

Kate was somewhat surprised at these vehement words,
but said:

“I think he is going with us. I don't think he would
leave us, all who love him so, for a common playing girl.”

“Oh, it is unjust—it is unjust!” repeated Beatrice, in
an inaudible voice. “I have not deserved it!”

“She's very pretty—for I believe it is Miss Hallam,”
continued Kate, “but she is not good enough to marry cousin
Champ, you know.”

Beatrice rose wildly, and said, with passionate tears in
her eyes:

“She would not marry him!—she does not wish to! I
am that actress! I am Beatrice Hallam! He has made
my life miserable and wretched; he follows me, persecutes
me, and will not leave me! Oh, I am not to blame—I am
not! I do not deserve so much unjust blame—no, no! It
is cruel in you to make me suffer so!—oh, it is cruel!”

And hiding her face in her hands, the young girl trembled
and shook with passionate sobs. Kate was so much
startled and alarmed by these passionate words that she
stood for a moment motionless with surprise and astonishment.
Then her tender little heart overcame every thing,
and running up to the beautiful girl who had been so kind
to her, she took her hand, and, sobbing, said:

“Don't cry!—please, don't cry!—I didn't mean to be so
rude—indeed, I am ashamed and sorry—oh! please don't
cry!”

And Kate herself cried, as if her heart would break.
Beatrice suffered the little hand to imprison her own, and
slowly raised her head again—her eyes full of tears.

“Pardon me, my child,” she said, with noble dignity and
calmness, “I did not mean to blame you—I could not help
speaking abruptly and shedding some tears—for indeed I
am not to blame. My lot is very unhappy, for I cannot even
ask a little child like you to love me.”

And her humid eyes dwelt with great softness and tenderness
on Kate's fresh little countenance, over which large
tears were chasing each other.

“I am glad I was near to save you from that rude man,”
continued Beatrice, rising, “and that is my only reward—
my own feelings. I ask no other—”

p520-170

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Kate would have fallen into the tender arms, for very
weakness and emotion.

“No,” said Beatrice, gently repulsing her, “I am an
actress. Come!”

And she went toward the door. At the same moment
it opened violently, and Mr. Effingham stood before them.