i f6c06dd9cf3fe221 by Unknown (the false prince .TXT) 📕

no

THE PATH IS MAPPED OUT

Sitting before the kitchen fire, at three o'clock in the afternoon, Kate reviewed the happenings of the past year, with not a little wonder at the change time and the simple personality of a man had wrought in her; her mind, compared with the turmoil it had been in a year ago today, was at peace. In a fortnight's time, when she was to marry Pat, her life would change completely. No longer did she dread the idea; in fact, there were times when she actually looked forward to it, for, once married, she would be safe; there would be no more 'wondering' at what might happen, no more mistrusting herself; married to Pat, "he intended her sole aim would be to make him a good wife.... Last Christmas Eve, when she had sent for him and told him she would marry him and that she had already told her mother and Father O'Malley, he had asked no reason for her lightning change of front, but had simply taken her two hands in his and pressed her palms against his face, and, in his soft Irish voice, had said, " It's a miracle. He has answered my prayers. If you ever live to regret this day, Kate, may my death soon follow. "

She had been amused at what she termed his theatrical speech, but was to remember it vividly within the next few hours. Gentleness had been his keynote; he was big and lumbering, but not uncouth; he had thick brown hair and a ruddy complexion, and his temper and love of peace denied his nationality. That he loved her with a deep abiding love she knew, and she felt sure in her heart that. left alone . she would be happy and would find peace with him. The phrase 'left alone' was with her less now than at the beginning of the year; contrary to her in usual procedure of facing up to things she had never dissected the phrase, had never asked herself what she meant by being 'left alone'.

Looking back now, she thought how grossly she must have exaggerated the emotions of last Christmas Eve, and on other occasions too, and how near she had become to making a fool of herself by turning kindly interest into something that even now made her feel hot inside. She excused herself with the thought that the evil-tongued women had unbalanced her and that, for a moment, she had seen things through their eyes. But she had silenced their tongues, she felt, and felt truly that she had them guessing and that they did not know what to make of the turn of events.

She had seen the doctor only twice during the past year, both occasions being during the past month when he was visiting her mother.

His visits to the Tolmaches had seemed to coincide with her days off.

When they had met in the kitchen he had been so ordinary and nice that she had thought to herself: How dreadful it is that one exaggerates things so much; the second time Pat had been with her, and she had chided herself for willing him to like Pat. But apparently he had found this quite easy, for within a short while they were talking, even laughing, together. He had wished them both every happiness. One awkward moment alone had occurred, when the doctor had asked Pat if, later, he would be allowed to pay court to his stepdaughter once in a while. Pat had laughed heartily at a joke he couldn't see, and Kate, looking at the doctor's face, had seen nothing but kindly interest and, perhaps, a little amusement. Pat had been loud in his praises of the doctor: "There's a real gentle man, and a man, Kate.... If it wasn't that I love Ireland I'd want to be an Englishman like himself."

Dear, simple Pat.

Yes, the year had turned out much better than she had expected. Her hardest task had been to tell the Tol maches. They had covered their regret at their coming loss by taking an active interest in the preparations for her wedding. Miss Tolmache was providing all the linen, Mr. Rex had bought them a carpet and Mr. Bernard bad given her a cheque for ten pounds. The unfailing kindness of these people was sometimes more than Kate could bear. That her marriage was not to cut her off entirely from them, she owed to Pat's understanding; for it was he who had suggested she should go to them at least two afternoons a week, and even to keep up her reading with Mr. Bernard if she wished. Seeing with what bands of prejudice the women around her were tied to their houses, welded by the men's domination, she felt this augured good for their future together.

Their house was all ready for them; it was in the quiet corner of Simonside, only a mile from the fifteen streets but as distant as heaven from earth. It had four rooms and a garden, back and front.

When Kate thought of the garden she thought of Annie; there she would grow and blossom, away from these filthy back lanes and streets. She had been worried about Annie, after the business of last Christmas Eve; she had lost the sparkle and eagerness of childhood and a sadness had settled on her. Remembering her own short memory at Annie's age, Kate felt there must be another cause other than that of not seeing the doctor for this continued staleness. Pat, through time, had won her round to laughter again, for he loved her already as his own. But still Sarah's reports of her were that she sat too long looking at nothing. Well,