Chapter XVIII. He is Not of My Kind - Page 2

likes me and--I would hate to wound him, but then you know he's not just one of us. You know what I mean!"

"Not exactly," said Kate, quietly. "Do you mean he is not educated?"

"Oh, no, I don't mean education altogether. How very tiresome you are! He has no culture, and manners, and that sort of thing."

"I think he has very fine manners. He is a little quaint, but you can't call him rude."

"Oh, no, he's never rude; rather abrupt, but oh, dear, don't you know? What would Aunt Frank say to him?"

Kate's lip curled a little. "I'm very sure I can't say, but I can imagine how she would look."

"Well, that's it--"

"But," went on Kate, "I can imagine, too, how Ranald would look back at her if he caught her meaning."

"Well, perhaps," said Maimie, with a little laugh, "and that's just it. Oh, I wish he were--"

"A lieutenant?" suggested Kate.

"Well, yes, I do," said Maimie, desperately.

"And if he were, you would marry him," said Kate, a shade of contempt in her tone that Maimie failed to notice.

"Yes, I would."

Kate remained silent.

"There now, you think I am horrid, I know," said Maimie. "I suppose you would marry him if he were a mere nobody!"

"If I loved him," said Kate, with slow deliberation, and a slight tremor in her voice, "I'd marry him if he were--a shantyman!"

"I believe you would," said Maimie, with a touch of regret in her voice; "but then, you've no Aunt Frank!"

"Thank Providence," replied Kate, under her breath.

"And I'm sure I don't want to offend her. Just listen to this." Maimie pulled out a letter, and turning over the pages, found the place and began to read: "'I am so glad to hear that you are enjoying your stay in Quebec'--um-um-um--'fine old city'--um-um-um-- 'gates and streets,' 'old days'--um-um-um--'noble citadel,' 'glorious view'--um-um-um-um--'finest in the world'--No, that isn't it--Oh, yes, here it is: 'The De Lacys are a very highly connected English family and very old friends of my friends, the Lord Archers, with whom I visited in England, you know. The mother is a dear old lady--so stately and so very particular--with old-fashioned ideas of breeding and manners, and of course, very wealthy. Her house in Quebec is said to be the finest in the Province, and there are some English estates, I believe, in their line. Lieutenant De Lacy is her only son, and from what you say, he seems to be a very charming young man. He will occupy a very high place someday. I suppose Kate will'--um-um-um--'Oh yes, and if Mrs. De Lacy wishes you to visit her you might accept'--um-um- um--'and tell Kate that I should be