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Updated: June 21, 2025
There seemed to be some talking outside and a trampling of feet on the broken wood of the door, and then suddenly the soft red fire spot was eclipsed in the total darkness around, and on the instant Katrine's finger had pulled the trigger. There was no groan this time after the shot, only a heavy thud and a crash as a falling body struck some fire-irons by the stove.
"Who is it, Marcelle?" she asked. "It is Nora's son, mademoiselle, and he has been drinking; but if I were you, I'd see him." The significance of the girl's tone changed Katrine's former decision. "Tell him to come in," she said. Barney came as far as the doorway and stood leaning against the frame of it, his eyes hot and angry, waving a newspaper wildly over his head.
There was not much indeed to be found; but a small breed of snow-bird was prevalent, and quite a flock of these would very often follow or precede a snow-storm, and whenever Katrine's keen eye caught sight of the little dark patch that a cluster of them made against the snow, she would glide swiftly over in that direction, and have eight or ten of them swinging at her belt to take home.
Then, favoured by a loud bravura of Lady Katrine's, he went on "That beauty, between you and me, is something of a bore she I don't mean the lady who is now screaming she should always sing. Heaven blessed her with song, not sense but here one is made so fastidious!"
Even to his mother Frank could not bring himself to mention Katrine's name, and he avoided all explanations by cabling his reply: Will arrive in Paris on the 20th. The yearly recital of Josef's pupils is an event to which Paris looks forward with interest, for the great teacher makes of it always an artistic triumph.
"Nonsense," murmured Stephen, drowsily; "it's your fancy. Go to sleep." But Katrine's ears were like those of a wild animal, quick and not to be deceived. "Go to sleep yourself, if you can," she retorted, and sprang up in the darkness, found her day clothes, and hustled them on.
But one morning, not long after, he was found dead in his bed; a smile was on his face, and his limbs were stretched out as in peaceful repose. There was no longer any tie to bind Carl to his native village. All his kin, as well as Katrine's, were in the grave. He was not bred a miller, and did not feel competent to manage the mill.
It would be years before he would care to marry. But at the thought Katrine's eyes came back to him. Francis the King! It was so she spoke of him, and it was this complete trust that appealed to all the best within him, as a tenderness born of her sweetness, her complete loyalty, raised him beyond his own selfishness, and he resolved to save her, save her even from himself.
He was a young fellow, sufficiently good-looking, and danced with as much ease as if he were in a New York ball-room. His left hand clasped Katrine's and drew it high up close to his neck and shoulder, his right arm enclosed her waist and drew her to him so firmly that the two figures seemed fused into one as they glided together over the imperfect floor.
Stephen lingered by the stove, then he and Bill drifted into a discussion over some of the latest discoveries of gold in Colorado, and they both fell to wondering how much more had been found since their last news, seven months old; and they had a pipe together, and then Bill thought he'd drop down to the "Pistol Shot," and Stephen crushed on his fur cap as determinedly as Talbot had done and went out to Katrine's number in Good Luck Row.
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