_Their_ eyes had been open.

She realized now with hot cheeks how many meetings and _tete-a-tetes_ had been managed for her and Elsmere, and how complacently she had fallen into Mrs.Thornburgh's snares.
'Have I encouraged him ?' she asked herself, sternly.
'Yes,' cried the smarting conscience.
'Can I marry him ?' 'No,' said conscience again; 'not without deserting your post, not without betraying your trust.' What post?
What trust?
Ah, conscience was ready enough with the answer.
Was it not just ten years since, as a girl of sixteen, prematurely old and thoughtful, she had sat beside her father's deathbed, while her delicate, hysterical mother in a state of utter collapse was kept away from him by the doctors?
She could see the drawn face, the restless, melancholy eyes.

'Catherine, my darling, you are the strong one.

They will look to you.

Support them.' And she could see in imagination her own young face pressed against the pillows.