Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/239

6 KATE BENTLEY. BY ELLEN ASHTON

"Why do you flirt with Alfred?" said Emma Glendroy to her beautiful friend as they sat one afternoon at the house of the former.

"What a question!" replied her companion, "and how on earth could it have come into your head?"Here we have sat for half an hour, without a word being spoken, and just when I thought you were lost in abstraction, you look up and ask me why I flirt with Alfred," and Kate Bentley laughed merrily.

"But that is not answering my question. Why do you flirt with Mr. Townsend?"

"Oh! Since you will have an answer, it's because I like to tease the dear man. What's the use of being young and called pretty without one worrying about the beauty?"

"But surely, Kate, you would not thus treat the man you intend to marry?"

"And who, my dear little preacher, said I was going to marry Mr. Townsend?"Surely I never said so.

"No, Kate, I admit that; but then you know you think more of him than of anyone else—for that you can't conceal from one who knows you as intimately as I do."

"Pshaw! But suppose I do. What then? Can't one torment a man before marriage?—we all have to be teased enough after it. I take my revenge beforehand, and even if I loved Mr. Townsend, I should plague him wofully before I consented to having him. But what have you seen in my conduct toward the gentleman that induces you to say I flirt with him?"

"Listen to me, Kate," said her companion. "Everybody knows that Alfred loves you—his attentions are so marked that they cannot be mistaken—and your friends give you the credit to believe that you feel his worth." Kate looked laughingly at her companion, who paused and added, "At least do not despise him. You certainly, at times, give him encouragement, such as no lady ought to bestow on a gentleman she would not be willing to marry. But, at other times, you are as cold as an icicle. Again, you smile at him, and then you flirt with others. Now, as you know that Mr. Townsend is serious, you ought, if you intend to marry him, at once to cease torturing him; but if you find you cannot love him, then it becomes your duty to shew him, with all maidenly reserve, but still in a decided manner, that his suit is hopeless. Condemn him, dear Kate, at once to despair, or else scorn further trifling with the man you love. But to smile on him today only to frown on him tomorrow is to disguise it as you will—the part of a heartless flirt."

Kate's color had come and gone more than once during this plain address, and her companion had trembled at every word lest she should give offense by what she felt bound to utter. But when Miss Glendroy had finished, Kate remained a moment silent, and then, rising up, she said, with a merry laugh,

Well, however, you deserve a medal. Really, you preach better than nine-tenths of the modest young men one hears in a pulpit. Surely Aunt Mary must be right in saying that you lost your heart to the handsome young minister at the Springs last year, and I suppose you are practicing on your friends in the way of exhortation in order to be au fait at the business when you become the Rev. Mrs. Newall and have to hold forth monthly to the Sunday School. Isn't it so, my pretty  preacher?"and Kate put both her hands on Emma's brow and looked into her eyes until the fair girl blushed in spite of herself. The conversation was not resumed, for the tide had been turned, and Miss Glendroy's well-meaning expostulation was, as she thought, forgotten.

But it was not so. Kate Bentley, although a gay, wilful creature, had a good heart, and her companion's strictures made an impression on her that she was not willing to admit. Kate's character was a striking one. Pride was one of her dominant faults. She had, moreover, a constant flow of spirits and was young, beautiful, and witty. She was courted and caressed by all. She was naturally, therefore, willful, and perhaps too much given to what she had thoughtlessly considered innocent flirtations.

A few days after this conversation, a ball occurred, whose projected magnificence had been the theme of conversation for several weeks. Kate was the belle of the night. Never had her wit seemed more sprightly or her beauty more dazzling. Admiration attended to her every movement. In spite of the resolutions she had formed, after parting ways with Emma Glendroy, she gave way to her old habit of flirtation, not only dancing with every suitor for that honor but also showering her smiles freely around. Her lover saw this with renewed pain, for although he worshipped Kate almost to idolatry, he was not blind to her faults. He knew she had many good qualities, and he trusted that time would teach her the folly of her errors. But, on this evening, he almost despaired. He saw her practicing all the arts of coquetry merely for the gratification of the passing hour, smiling on those to whom she would not deign a look, endeavoring to lure admirers to her shrine only so that she might make a sport of their devotion. Townsend could not restrain himself, when he accompanied her homeward, from expressing how deeply his feelings had been hurt. From Kate's conduct toward him, especially during the last few days, he was led to believe that he was not wholly indifferent to her, and