American Day Dream

American Day Dream
Biblis painting
Boulevard des Capucines
Charity painting
charge stealthily across the grass towards the stable. Cathy entered by the casement window of the drawing-room, and glided noiselessly up to where I awaited her. She put the door gently to, slipped off her snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding, unconscious of my espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I suddenly rose and revealed myself. The surprise petrified her an instant: she uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and stood fixed.
`My dear Miss Catherine,' I began, too vividly impressed by her recent kindness to break into a scold, `where have you been riding out at this hour? And why should you try to deceive me, by telling a tale? Where have you been? Speak.'
`To the bottom of the park,' she stammered. `I didn't tell a tale.'
`And nowhere else?' I demanded.
oil painting
`No,' was the muttered reply.
`Oh, Catherine!' I cried sorrowfully. `You know you have been doing wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me. That does grieve me. I'd rather be three months ill, than hear you frame a deliberate lie.'
She sprang forward, and bursting into tears, threw her arms round my neck.
`Well, Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry,' she said. `Promise not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth: I hate to hide it.'