diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42153-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42153-8.txt | 11050 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 11050 deletions
diff --git a/42153-8.txt b/42153-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6e4ca2c..0000000 --- a/42153-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11050 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Making of a Prig, by Evelyn Sharp - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Making of a Prig - -Author: Evelyn Sharp - -Release Date: February 22, 2013 [EBook #42153] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A PRIG *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa McDaniel and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - - Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have - been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal - signs=. - - The book uses em-dashes as ellipses at the ends of sentences. These - have been left spaced as in the original text. - - - - -_By the Same Author:_ - - WYMPS: Fairy Tales. With eight coloured illustrations by Mrs. - Percy Dearmer. - - AT THE RELTON ARMS: A Novel. - - THE MAKING OF A SCHOOL-GIRL. - - - - - THE - MAKING OF A PRIG - - BY - EVELYN SHARP - - JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD - NEW YORK AND LONDON - 1897 - - - - - _Copyright, 1897_, - BY JOHN LANE. - - _All rights reserved._ - - University Press: - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. - - - - -The Making of a Prig - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -It was supper time at the Rectory, and the Rector had not come in. -There were two conflicting elements at the Rectory, the Rector's -disregard of details and his sister's sense of their importance. There -was only one will, however, and that was his sister's. So the meals -were always punctual, and the Rector was always late; a fact that by -its very recurrence would have long ceased to be important, had not -Miss Esther loved to accentuate it by a certain formula of complaint -that varied as little as the offence itself. This evening, however, he -was later than usual; and Miss Esther did not attempt to conceal her -impatience as she glanced from the old clock in the corner down to the -fire-place, where another familiar grievance awaited her. - -"Katharine, how often have I told you not to lie on the rug like a -great boy?" she said querulously, in the tone of one who has not the -courage or the character to be really angry. She added immediately, "I -want you to ring the bell for the soup." - -The girl on the floor rolled over lazily, and shut her book with a -bang. - -"Daddy hasn't come in yet," she said, sitting up on her heels and -shaking the hair out of her eyes. A latent spirit of revolt was in her -tone, although she spoke half absently, as if her thoughts were still -with her book. Miss Esther tapped her foot on the ground impatiently. - -"It is exactly two minutes to eight," she said sharply. "I asked you -to ring the bell, Katharine." - -The girl walked across the room in a leisurely manner, and did as she -was told with a great assumption of doing as she wished. Then she sat -on the arm of the nearest chair, and the rebellious look returned to -her face. - -"How do you know it is daddy's fault, Aunt Esther? The Stoke road is -awfully bad, and it's blowing hard from the north-west. He may have -been kept, and cold soup's beastly. I think it's a shame." - -"I really wish," complained Miss Esther, "that you would try and -control your expressions, Katharine. It all comes of your romping so -much with young Morton. Of course I am a mere cipher in my own house; -but some day your father will be sorry that he did not listen to me in -time. Can you never remember that you are not a boy?" - -"I am not likely to forget," muttered Katharine. "I should not be -sticking in this stupid old place if I were. I should be working hard -for daddy, so that he could live with his books and be happy, instead -of grinding his life away for people who only want to get all they can -out of him. What's the use of being a girl? Things are so stupidly -arranged, it seems to me!" - -"My dear," said Miss Esther, who had only caught the end of her -speech, "it is difficult to believe that your father is one of God's -chosen ministers." - -"But he isn't," objected Katharine. "That's just it. They made him go -into the church because there was a family living; so how on earth -could he have been chosen? Why, you told me so yourself, Aunt Esther! -It's all rubbish about being chosen, isn't it?" - -"Don't chatter so much," said Miss Esther, who was counting her -stitches; and Katharine sighed petulantly. - -"I can't think," she went on to herself, "how he was ever weak enough -to give in. He must have been absent-minded when they ordained him, -and never discovered it until afterwards! Don't you think so, Dorcas?" - -But Dorcas, who had only just brought in the soup, was hardly in a -position to make the necessary reply; and Katharine had to content -herself with laughing softly at her own joke. The meal passed almost -in silence, and they had nearly finished before they heard the sound -of wheels on the wet gravel outside. Miss Esther looked up, and -listened with her chronic air of disapproval. - -"Dear me," she sighed, "your father has driven round to the stable -again by mistake. What are you doing, Katharine? I was just going to -say grace." - -But Katharine had already dispensed with the ceremony by vanishing -through the door that led into the kitchen; and Miss Esther hurried -over it alone, and managed to be seated in her chair near the -reading-lamp, upright and occupied, by the time her brother came into -the room. There was something pathetic in the way she elaborated her -little methods of reproach for the sake of one on whom the small -things in life made no impression at all. And when the Rector entered, -smiling happily, with Katharine hanging on his arm and whispering -eager questions into his ear, it was easy to see that his mind was -occupied by something far more engrossing than the fact that he was -late for supper. But Miss Esther preserved her look of injury, and the -Rector, who was making futile efforts to produce a paper parcel from -the pocket in his coat tails, suddenly gave up the attempt as he -caught sight of her, and began to smooth his sleek white hair with a -nervous hand. - -"Yes, Esther," he said, although she had not spoken a word. - -"We have sent away the soup, but there is some cold meat on the side, -I believe. Katharine, do be seated instead of romping round the room -like that! Your father can see to himself," was all that Miss Esther -said. - -"Yes, Esther," said the Rector submissively; and he helped himself to -some apple pie, and sat thoughtfully with the knife in his hand until -Katharine came and replaced it with a fork. "It is a windy night," he -continued, as no one seemed inclined to say anything. Miss Esther was -waiting for her opportunity, and Katharine had caught the infection -of her mood, and was again absorbed in her book on the hearthrug. - -"Tom Eldridge came up about his dying wife, and Jones's baby is no -better," said Miss Esther, presently. - -"Dear, dear! how very unfortunate!" observed the Rector, smiling. - -"I said you must have been detained unexpectedly," continued Miss -Esther, with more emphasis. "They seemed very much in want of a little -counsel." - -"I'm certain they weren't," said Katharine audibly. "Eldridge wanted -some more port wine, and Mrs. Jones came to see what she could get. -And I don't fancy either of them got it." - -"Very unfortunate!" said the Rector again. "I was certainly detained, -Esther, as you cleverly divined,--unavoidably detained." - -"People," said Miss Esther, very distinctly, "who have spiritual -brothers and sisters depending upon them, have no right to be -detained." - -"I never can think," put in Katharine, "how any one has the courage to -be a clergyman. It simply means having crowds of relations, dull, -sordid, grasping relations, who come and rob you systematically in -the name of the Lord." - -"A spiritual man," continued Miss Esther, without heeding the -interruption, "is not--" - -"Oh, auntie," implored Katharine, "do let daddy eat his supper in -peace." - -"My child," interposed the Rector gently, "I have finished my supper. -Does Eldridge expect me to do anything to-night, Esther? Or Mrs. -Jones?" - -"My dear Cyril," said Miss Esther sternly, "if your own instincts do -not prompt you to do anything, I should say they had better go -untended." - -The Rector sighed, and played with his knife. He was looking like a -schoolboy in disgrace. Katharine gave a scornful little laugh. - -"What _is_ the good of making all that fuss over a trifle? Just as -though the cough of Jones's baby were half as important as the genuine -rat-tail daddy has picked up at Walker's!" - -The murder was out, and Miss Esther put down her knitting and prepared -for a characteristic outburst. But the Rector had already unwrapped -his treasure and placed it on the table before him, and her bitterest -reproaches fell unheeded on his ears. - -"Genuine sixteenth century," he murmured, as he stroked it reverently -with his long, thin fingers. - -"Only yesterday," said the strident voice of his sister, "you were -telling me you had no money for a soup kitchen. It was a poor living, -you said; and now-- How can you set such an example,--you with a -mission in life?" - -"I vow I'll never have a mission in life," said Katharine, "if it -means giving up everything that makes one happy. Poor daddy!" - -"One of Christ's elect," continued Miss Esther, "to be turned aside -for a bit of tawdry pewter! For what you can see in a tarnished, -old-fashioned thing like that, is more than I can understand." - -The Rector looked up for the first time. - -"Indeed, Esther," he said in a hurt tone, "it is a fine piece of -sixteenth century silver." Katharine cast a wrathful look at the stern -figure near the reading-lamp, and came over to her father's side. The -rebellious note had gone from her voice altogether as she spoke to -him. - -"Let me look, daddy, may I?" she asked. Cyril Austen pulled her on to -his knee, and they bent together over the old spoon. Miss Esther -knitted silently. - -"Let me see," said the Rector presently, turning an unruffled -countenance towards his sister, "what were we saying? About some -parishioners, wasn't it?" - -"Parishioners? How can you talk of parishioners, when the first -trivial temptation draws you from the right path and--and makes you -late for meals? Isn't it enough to neglect your sacred duty, without -upsetting the household as well? Coming in at this time of--what is it -now, Cyril?" - -For a worried look had suddenly crossed the Rector's face. He pulled -out his watch, and consulted it with the nervous haste of a man who is -constantly haunted by having forgotten something. - -"Let me see,--how very stupid of me," he said, laughing slightly. "I -fancy there was something else, now; whatever could it have been, I -wonder? It was not the spoon, Esther, that made me late. Kitty, my -child, what did I say to you when I came in, just now?" - -"You said, 'I have picked up a genuine rat-tail at Walker's;' and then -you gave your hat to Jim, and hung up the whip on the hat peg!" - -"Bad child!" said the Rector, still looking uneasily about him. "I -wonder if Jim would know?" - -But here a light was thrown on the matter by the entrance of Dorcas, -who brought the ambiguous message from Jim that the pony was ready to -start again, if the Rector was "going to do anything about the poor -creature down agin the chalk pit." - -"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the Rector. "To be sure, that was it. -Esther, brandy and blankets, my dear,--anything you've got! We must -bring him home at once, of course. I knew there was something. Esther, -will you--? Ah, she always understands." - -For, to do her credit, Miss Esther never wasted her time in reproaches -when there was really something to be done; and in the bustle that -followed, while the pony carriage was being filled with everything -that could be of use in case of an accident, Katharine found herself -left in the hall, with the intolerable feeling of being neglected, and -burning with curiosity as to the cause of it all. - -"Daddy, daddy, what is it? Is any one hurt? Mayn't I come too?" she -pleaded, as the Rector came out to look for his coat. - -"Eh, what? Oh, a poor fellow broken his leg in the chalk pit. Doctor's -with him now. What is he like? Kind of tourist, I should fancy; -evidently didn't see his way in the dark. There, run off to bed, -Kitty; you'll hear all about it in the morning." - -"But I want to hear _now_," said the child, quivering with impatience. -"What sort of man is he, daddy? Shall I like him, do you think? Oh, do -tell, daddy!" - -"My child, I hardly noticed. My hat--ah, thanks! He had a black beard, -I fancy,--quite young though, I should say,--and a sallow face--" - -"How unhealthy it sounds; and I hate unhealthy people! I don't think I -want to go now," said Katharine, in an altered tone. - -Nevertheless, when the unwilling pony was being urged again into the -storm and the darkness, some one slipped through the little group in -the porch, and sprang into the carriage beside the Rector. And the -Rector, who was incapable of a decided action himself and never -disputed one on the part of others, threw the rug over her knees, and -they drove off together to the scene of the accident. It was a wild, -black night; and the Rector shivered as he bent his head to the -furious gusts of wind, and allowed the pony to struggle on feebly at -its own pace. But Katharine sat upright with her head thrown back, -and would have liked to laugh aloud as the wind caught her long loose -hair and lashed it, wet with rain, across her face. - -The chalk pit was situated at the further end of the village; on a -fine day, it might have been reached in a ten minutes' drive, but -to-night it was nearly half an hour before the pony managed to bring -its load to a standstill beside the group of men who had been waiting -there since dusk. Katharine recognised all the village familiars who -came forward at their approach,--the doctor, who had tended her -childish maladies; the schoolmaster, who had taught her to read; the -churchwarden, who still loved to tell her stories that she had long -ago learnt to know by heart. But she had no eyes for any of these -to-night; she looked beyond them all, as she jumped lightly out of the -carriage, at the man who lay on the ground with his eyes closed. A -lantern hung from the branch above, and swung to and fro in the wind, -casting intermittent gleams of light across his face. - -He opened his eyes wearily as the Rector came forward, and they rested -at once upon Katharine, who stood bending over him with the rather -heartless curiosity of a very young girl. - -"Kitty, move out of the way, my child," the Rector's voice was saying. - -"I don't think he looks unhealthy at all," said Katharine dreamily. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -The sun rose, the following morning, on a scene of devastation. The -storm of the previous night had come at the end of a month's hard -frost, and everything was in a state of partial thaw. Glistening pools -of water lay in the fields on the top of the still frozen ground, -looking like patches of snow in the pale sunshine; and a curious -phenomenon was discernible in the brooks and the ditches, where a -layer of calm water covered the ice that still bound the flowing -stream below. The only trace of last night's gale was a distant -moaning in the tree-tops; while above was a deepening blueness of sky -and a growing warmth in the sunshine. There was winter still on the -ground, and the beginning of spring in the air. - -Two women had met under the beech-trees at the edge of the chalk pit. -Early as it was they had already collected large bundles of sticks; -for the beauty of the morning was nothing to them, and the storm, as -far as they were concerned, merely meant the acquisition of firewood. -They had matter for conversation enough, however; and it was this that -was making them loiter so early in the morning near the scene of -yesterday's accident. - -"Is it the poor thing what fell down yonder, you be a-talkin' of, Mrs. -Jones? 'Cause I see Jim hisself this blessed morning, I did, and you -can't tell me nothing I doan't know already, you can't, Mrs. Jones," -said Widow Priest with fine scorn. - -There was a jealousy of long standing between the two neighbours. Mrs. -Jones was the sturdy wife of the sexton, and her family was both large -and increasing,--a fact which she attributed entirely to Providence; -though, when three of them succumbed to insufficient food and care, -she put down their loss to the same convenient cause, and extracted as -much consolation as she could out of three visits to the churchyard. -Widow Priest, on the other hand, had buried no one in the little -churchyard on the hill. For her husband had committed suicide, and -they had laid him to an uneasy rest without the sedative of a -religious ceremony; and his widow was thus robbed even of the triumph -of alluding to his funeral. So her widowhood did not bring her its -usual compensations; and she felt bitter towards the wife of the -sexton, who had buried her three and kept five others, and would -probably replace the lost ones in time. - -"I bain't so fond o' gossiping nor what you be, Widow Priest," -returned Mrs. Jones in loud, hearty tones. "I got no time for talking -wi' strangers here an' strangers there, wi' my man an' five little -'uns to do for. An' then there's always the three graves of a Saturday -to tidy up, which you ain't got, poor thing; not but what I'm saying -it be your fault, in course, Widow Priest." - -Widow Priest gave a contemptuous sniff as she sat down to tie up her -fagots, and Mrs. Jones remained standing in front of her, with one arm -thrown round her bundle of sticks, and the other placed akimbo, an -effective picture of triumphant woman. - -"Touching the poor thing what broke his back yonder," she continued -cheerfully: "I was putting the baby to bed at the time, I was, and I -see the whole thing happen from my top window, I did. He jumped the -fence, all careless like, jest as though he didn't know the pit were -there for sure. An' straightway he tripped up, he did, an' down he -went. God help him, I says! An' I puts the baby down, an' I says to -our Liz, 'Here, my child,' I says, 'stand by your precious brother -while I goes across to the pit,' I says. An' jest as I says that, up -comes the Rector an' the doctor with him, driving friendly like -together they was. So I says to our Liz, 'It's Providence,' I says, -'what sent they two blessed creatures here this day,' I says. An' I -caught up my shawl, I did, an' went hollerin' after them. 'What is it, -Mrs. Jones?' says the Rector, 'is it the baby again?'--'Baby?' I says, -'no, sir; not but what it racks me to hear that child cough, it do. -There be a man yonder,' I says, 'jest broke his neck down agin the -chalk pit.' Lord! it were a sight to see they two men turn that pony -round! An' the rain were that bad, it give me lumbago all down my -back, that did. Not but what I soon got back to baby again, poor -little angel, with a cough that makes my heart ache, to hear it going -jest like the others did afore they died. But ye didn't see him fall -in, now; did ye, Widow Priest?" - -The widow shouldered her fagots grimly, and stalked off with dignity. -When she reached the bend of the road, she turned round and shouted a -parting word in a tone of unmitigated contempt. - -"It bain't his neck, _nor_ his back, Mrs. Jones. It be both his legs, -an' he be at the Rectory now, in the best bedroom, he be; an' there -he'll likely stop a month or two, Jim says, he do. But Jim didn't give -ye a call perhaps, Mrs. Jones?" - -"Bless ye, Widow Priest, I ain't told ye half what I know," cried Mrs. -Jones. "You be a poor thing, you be, if ye can't stand to hear a -body's tale; an' you that's so lonesome too, an' got no one to do for, -like I have. Lord, what a hurry some folk do be in, for sure! Eh, but -that be Miss Katharine yonder, blest if it ain't; an' Widow Priest be -out o' sight, too! I reckon as Miss Katharine knows more nor Jim, an' -I be going--" - -But a wail from the cottage opposite awakened the mother's sense of -duty, and she hastened across the road and forgot all about the -accident in an immediate necessity for castigation. - -Katharine came over the brow of the hill that sloped down towards the -chalk pit, scaled the wooden fence at the bottom, and skirted the edge -of the little chasm until she came to the line of beech-trees. Here -she paused for a moment, pecked a hole in the soft ground with her -heel, and peered thoughtfully down into the pit. Then she turned -abruptly away again, and struck across the fields to the further side -of the village, where she sped down a grassy lane that was for the -most part under water, and stopped at last before a gap in the hedge -that was hardly large enough to be noticeable. She squeezed adroitly -through it, however, and came in view of an ugly modern house standing -in a neglected looking garden, with an untidy farmyard and some stable -buildings at the back. Here she was careful to keep a clump of -box-trees between herself and the front of the house, until she could -come out with safety into the open and approach the iron fence that -separated the paddock from the lawn. This she vaulted easily, dropping -lightly on the grass beyond, and managed to arrive at last unnoticed, -under a small oriel window at the corner of the house. She picked up a -handful of small stones, and swung them with a sure aim at the little -glass panes, and called, "Coo-ey," as loudly as she dared. - -"Lazy toad!" she muttered impatiently. "On a morning like this, too! -And just when I had got a real adventure to tell him, that he knows -absolutely nothing about, not anything at all!" - -She did not throw up any more stones, but mounted the iron railings -instead, and sat there with her feet dangling and her eyes fixed on -the oriel window. - -"It's the biggest score I've ever had over him," she chuckled to -herself. "I think I shall _explode_ soon, if he doesn't wake up. I'm -getting so awfully hungry, too; it must be eight o'clock." - -She called again presently, without changing her position; and this -time there was a sign of life behind the oriel window, and the -curtains were drawn aside. Katharine forgot all her previous caution, -and gave a loud "whoop" of satisfaction. The lattice flew open, and -some one with rumpled hair and flushed cheeks looked out and yawned. - -"Don't make such a shindy, Kit; you'll wake the mother," he grumbled. -"Why the dickens have you come so beastly early?" - -"Because Aunt Esther was asleep, of course," answered Katharine -promptly. "Hurry up, Ted, and have your bath; it'll make you feel -piles better. And you'll have to get me some food; I could eat my -boots." - -"Don't do that," said Ted. "Last night's steak will do just as well." - -"How is _she_?" asked Katharine, with a jerk of her head towards the -front of the house. - -"Awful. She's getting worse. She docks the pudding course at supper -now. Don't go, Kitty; I'll be down directly." - -He was not long, but she was full of impatient reproaches by the time -he joined her at the fence. - -"I believe you'd like to give the world a shove to make it go round -quicker," he retorted, swinging himself up beside her. - -"Well, you surely don't think it moves very fast now, do you?" she -said. "At all events, Ivingdon doesn't," she added emphatically. - -"Well, what did you come for, old chum?" he asked, smiting her -shoulder with rough friendliness. "Not to complain of this slow old -hole, I bet?" - -"Get me something to eat, and I'll tell you." - -"Oh, hang, Kitty! I can't. Cook will swear, or go to the mother, or -something. Can't you wait till you get home?" - -"No, I can't. And I didn't tell you to go to cook, or to _her_; did I, -stupid? Isn't there a pantry window, and isn't the larder next to the -pantry, and aren't the servants having breakfast in the kitchen, out -of the way? Eh?" - -"Well, I'm bothered! But I can't get up to that window, anyhow." - -"There's a loose brick just below, and you _know_ it, you lazy boy! -What's the use of being exactly six foot, if you can't climb into a -window on the ground floor? _I_ can, and I'm only five foot four. Oh, -you needn't bother, if you're afraid! I can keep my news, for that -matter." - -"I don't believe there is any news. Why, I only saw you yesterday -afternoon. And nothing ever happens in Ivingdon. You are only rotting, -aren't you, Kit?" - -"All right; I don't want to tell you, I'm sure. Good-bye," said -Katharine, without moving a step. - -He called himself a fool, and told her she was a beastly nuisance, and -that of course there wasn't any news, and he didn't want to hear it if -there was. And he finally strolled round to the pantry window, as she -knew he would, and returned with a medley of provisions in his hands. -They laughed together at the odd selection he had made,--at the cold -pie he was balancing on a slice of bread, and the jam tart that -crowned the jug of milk; and they fought over everything like two -young animals, and drank out of the same jug and spilled half its -contents, and ended in chasing one another round the paddock for no -reason whatever. - -"Walk home with me, and I'll tell you the news. Come on, Ted!" she -cried. - -"Guess I will, and chance it. If she doesn't like my being late for -breakfast she'll have to do the other thing. Through with you, Kitty, -and don't make the hole any larger! There's always the chance that she -might have it mended, in a spasm of extravagance, and that would be so -bally awkward for us." - -She told her news as they went swinging along side by side over the -wet fields, leaping the pools of standing water, and switching the wet -twigs in each other's face. But they grew quieter as the interest of -the tale deepened; and by the time Katharine had reached the episode -of the chalk pit, Ted was walking gloomily along with his hands in his -pockets and his eyes bent on the ground. - -"You always have all the luck, Kitty," he said mournfully. "Why wasn't -I there? Think of the use I should have been in helping him into the -carriage; only think of it, Kitty!" - -"You wouldn't have been a bit of good," she returned cruelly. "You're -much too clumsy. They wouldn't even let Jim or daddy help. _I_ held -his head, so there!" - -"Well, I suppose I could have held his beastly head, too, couldn't I?" -roared Ted. - -"It wasn't a beastly head; it was awfully nice,--hair all silky, not -baby's curls like yours," said Katharine scornfully. "And wasn't he -plucky, too! His leg must have hurt frightfully, but he just didn't -say a word or utter a sound. All the way home, whenever the thing -jolted him, he just screwed up his mouth and looked at me, and that -was all. It was the finest thing I've ever seen." - -"But you haven't seen much," said Ted. - -"No, I haven't. But I've seen you squirm when you had toothache. And -you're not fit to speak to if you have an ordinary headache," laughed -Katharine. - -They walked the rest of the way in silence. - -"That is where he lies now," said Katharine, with a dramatic gesture -towards the spare-room window. Her cheeks were red with excitement, -and she never noticed the look on Ted's face as he shrugged his -shoulders and made a great pretence of whistling carelessly. - -"What sort of a chap is he? Some tourist bounder, I suppose," he -condescended to say. - -"He isn't a bounder. He has awfully nice hands,--white, and thin, and -soft. He's rather pale, with a lot of black hair and a curly beard." - -"What a played-out chap to make such a fuss about!" said Ted, turning -away contemptuously. "Sounds more like a monkey than anything else. -Good-bye. I wish you joy of him!" - -"I suppose I'll see you again some time?" she called after him. - -"Oh, yes; I suppose so." - -"And it _was_ news, wasn't it, Ted?" - -"You seem to think so, anyway." - -"Poor Ted!" She laughed, and ran indoors. But he had hardly crossed -the first field before she had caught him up again, breathless and -penitent. - -"I didn't mean it, Ted; I didn't, _really_, old boy. It wasn't news, -and he _is_ a monkey, and I'm a horrid pig. Come up after lunch, won't -you, Ted? I promise not to talk about him once, and I want to show you -something. You will come, Ted, won't you?" - -She flung her arms round him in her impulsive way, and gave him one of -her rough, playful hugs. But for the first time in his life, Ted -shook her off stiffly, and hastened on. - -"What's the matter?" asked Katharine, more perplexed than annoyed. - -"Oh, all right; I'll come. Don't be a fool, Kitty!" he jerked over his -shoulder; and she turned away, only half satisfied, and went slowly -into the house. It was characteristic of her that the smallest lack of -response from some one else would change her mood immediately; and -when she entered the dining-room a few minutes later, her vivacity was -all gone, and the first words she caught of the conversation at the -breakfast-table only helped to irritate her still further. - -"Oh, bother Mr. Wilton!" she said crossly. "The whole house seems to -have gone mad over Mr. Wilton. I am tired of hearing his name." - -The Rector seemed unconscious of her remark, and only pulled her hair -softly as she slipped into the chair beside him. But Miss Esther -stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence, and cast a meaning -glance towards Katharine which her father did not see, though she of -course did. - -"My dear," said Mr. Austen, in reply to his sister, "I am sure you are -quite competent to do it. Nancy always said you were a born nurse; -and Nancy knew, bless her! Besides, the poor young man has been sent -to us in his affliction, and there is nothing else to be done, is -there? My child, it will not interest you; we were only saying that -Mr.--Wilton, is it?--would require careful nursing; and your aunt--" - -"Really, Katharine, there is no necessity for you to interfere. You -know too much as it is, and this question is not one that concerns you -at all. Perhaps you will keep to the matter in hand until it is -settled, Cyril!" - -"My dear, I thought it was settled," said the old man mildly. "The -poor young fellow has to be nursed, and you are the best person to do -it. So there is nothing else, is there, Esther, that need detain me? I -am rather anxious--that is, I would like to finish my paper on the -antiquities of the county, and it is already ten minutes past--" - -"It is a most extraordinary thing," interrupted Miss Esther irritably, -"that you never will give your attention to anything that really -matters. You totally misunderstand my meaning, Cyril. How can I, your -sister and a single woman, with due propriety--Katharine, you can go -and feed the chickens." - -Katharine did not move, and the Rector got up from his chair. - -"My dear," he remonstrated, "I think you over-estimate the difficulty. -It is the duty of the woman to look after the sufferer, is it not? I -really think there is nothing more to be said about it. Meanwhile--" - -"I don't know why you are in such a hurry, Cyril; it is the day for -the library to be cleaned, so you cannot use it yet. The whole -business is most inopportune; why should he break his leg in Ivingdon, -when he might have done it quite conveniently in the county town, and -been taken to the infirmary like any one else?" - -The Rector wondered vaguely why his room was cleaned more than once a -week; but he sat down again and folded his hands, and said that he was -of the same opinion as before and saw no reason why the unfortunate -young man should not be nursed by Miss Esther. - -"No more do I," said Katharine. "What's the difference between nursing -Shepherd Horne through bronchitis and nursing Mr. Wilton with a broken -leg, except that Mr. Wilton is presumably not so unwashed? I never can -see why the poor people should have the monopoly of impropriety, as -well as of the Scriptures. Besides, you can easily reduce him to the -level of a villager by reading the Psalms to him every day. That would -make you feel quite proper, wouldn't it, auntie? And I dare say he -wouldn't mind it much, when he got used to it." - -"Your profanity," said her aunt severely, "is becoming perfectly -outrageous. If you were sometimes to say a few words of reproof to -your own daughter, Cyril, instead of dreaming your life away--but -there, I must go and look after poor Mr. Wilton! I wonder whether he -likes his eggs boiled or scrambled?" she added doubtfully. For Miss -Esther was one of those women who reserve the best side of their -nature for the people who have no real claim upon them; and she took -little interest in any one who was neither poor nor afflicted. The -unpractical temperament of the Rector both astonished and chafed her, -and she had nothing but a fretful endurance for her high-spirited -niece, in whom a natural longing for action and an inordinate sense of -humour were fast producing a spirit of revolt and cynicism. But an -invalid, who was thus thrown suddenly into her power, appealed -strongly to the Rector's sister; and her diffidence had entirely -disappeared by the time she had gone through all the objections that -propriety impelled her to raise. - -"I feel quite thankful," she said, smiling blandly, "that the poor -fellow has fallen into such good hands." - -"So do I," remarked Katharine, as the door closed. "It will be all the -better for your paper on the local antiquities, won't it, daddy? Daddy -_dear_, just think of all the time we shall have to ourselves, now -that she's got Mr. Wilton on her hands! Poor Mr. Wilton! Let's come -and clear Dorcas out of the library and look at what you've done, -shall we? Come along, daddy, _quick_!" - -The Rector stroked her long hair, with a doubtful look on his face. - -"I am afraid, Kitty, I do not look after you as I should," he said. "I -am a bad old sinner, eh?" - -"That's why I love you so. You are a brick!" exclaimed Katharine. - -And she dragged him impetuously out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Meanwhile, Paul Wilton lay wearily in the old-fashioned guest-room -over the porch. The pain of his broken limb had kept him awake most of -the night; and now that the suffering was less the discomfort -remained, and he felt no more inclined to sleep than before. With a -kind of mechanical interest he had watched the pale light on his -striped blind grow deep and red, and then again pale and bright, as -the sun came up over the hills. His restlessness increased as the time -wore on; the sensation of being unable to move began to grate on his -nerves, and he wished impatiently that something would break the -stillness of the house, and awaken the people in it who were sleeping -so unreasonably. He raised himself on his elbow as a light step came -along the passage outside, and sank back again with a feeling of -disappointment when it passed his door, and went downstairs into the -garden. In reality it was much earlier than he thought; and it was -still some time longer before the usual early morning sounds -testified to the existence of a maid. He heard the stairs being swept, -and suffered silently as the broom was struck clumsily against his -wall in its downward course. Then the front door, was unbolted with a -good deal of noise, and a few mats were banged together in the open -air, and something was done with the door scraper. A conversation, -held across the lawn with Jim, had the effect of an altercation, -though it was in reality only an inquiry on the subject of milk, -shouted shrilly in broad dialect. Later on, came the welcome crackle -of a fire and the clatter of teacups; and a smell of hot bacon began -to pervade the air. - -"At all events, that means breakfast," muttered Paul. "It is not to be -hoped that it will be worth eating, but at least it will bring a human -being into the room. I wonder why ordinary people never have any ideas -for breakfast beyond hot bacon! It is sure to be in thick chunks, too, -and salt, oh, very salt! Don't I know it? It recalls my childhood. -There will be eggs, too,--there always were eggs when we had visitors; -and bad coffee made by unaccustomed hands, also because there is a -visitor. I know that coffee too. On the whole, it is wiser to keep to -tea in strange places of this sort, although one knows beforehand -that it will be thick, and black, and flavourless. I know the tea, -best of all. In quite decent houses, one gets that tea." - -Nobody came to him, although there were other voices about the house -now; and he turned from his dissertation on food to a study of the -pictures on the wall. They were of the class that had also been known -to him in his childhood; and he smiled sardonically as he glanced at -the two texts hidden in a maze of illumination, and the German print -of John the Baptist standing in layers of solid water, and the faded -photograph of a baby girl with tangled curls and a saucy mouth. -Something in the shape of that mouth suggested the shadowy events of -last night to his mind, and brought with them the vague recollection -of a girl's face looking curiously down at him, and the pleasurable -sensation of being supported by two firm, soft hands. He rather liked -dwelling on that part of last night's adventures, until a real twinge -of pain in his leg recalled also the less pleasant episodes, and he -shuddered as he remembered the horrors of his transit from the chalk -pit to the Rectory. - -"I hate being in pain; it is so vulgar," he muttered distastefully; -and a dread crossed his mind lest his suffering should become more -than he could bear with dignity. - -A timid knock came outside the door, and the maid entered to draw up -the blind. She looked clumsy, and Paul sighed. She sidled along the -wall to the door again as soon as she could, and asked shyly when he -would have his breakfast. - -"As soon as you like; and--er--Mary, would you kindly give me that -coat? What's the time? And is it a fine day?" asked Paul hurriedly. He -was almost childish in his anxiety to keep her in the room for another -moment. But to be called by the cook's name so far confused her that -she vanished precipitately; and Paul smiled, a little more cynically -than before, and returned to his observations of the pictures. Just -then he heard the end of the conversation between the boy and girl, -under his window, and was amused at his own share in their quarrel. - -"Anyhow, if that young woman is going to be about, it may not be so -bad, after all," he reflected. - -He was reduced to despondency again, however, by the arrival of the -breakfast, which fully realised his expectations. For one who -professed to have a wide grasp of life, Paul Wilton was singularly -affected by trifles. His spirits were not raised when he found who his -nurse was to be; and, competent as Miss Esther soon proved herself, he -remained convinced that the child with the joyous laugh who made so -much merriment about the house, would have suited him far better. And -again, he was amused at his interest in some one whom he had hardly -seen, and who would probably turn out to be an undeveloped schoolgirl, -some one who would ride roughshod over his susceptibilities, and even -fail to understand his feelings about things. It seemed impossible to -him that he should be able to endure any one who did not understand -his feelings about things. She might be plain, too; women with -fascinating voices were often extremely plain. And if she were neither -mature nor attractive, there could be no object in giving her another -thought; for woman, to Paul Wilton, was merely an interesting -necessity,--like his food; something to fill up the gaps that were not -occupied by work, or art, or any of the real things of life; and -something, therefore, to be taken in as delicate a manner as possible. -He liked to talk to beautiful women in picturesque surroundings,--to -play on their emotions, and to dally with their wit; but the women -had to be beautiful, and their setting had to be appropriate. - -"Please do not trouble to wait," he said to Miss Esther in the -afternoon, when he found her preparing to sit with him. "I shall be -quite happy if you will have the goodness to give me the paper and the -cigarette case. Thanks." - -When she had gone, having lacked the courage to tell him that tobacco -smoke had never yet polluted the sacred mustiness of the best spare -room, Paul lay back with a sense of relief, and began to review his -situation gloomily. - -"How I could have made such an ass of myself, I don't know," he -murmured. "Foisting myself on complete strangers for six or seven -weeks at least! And such strangers, too! Good Lord, how shocked the -dear lady looked when I said I hadn't a relation left who cared a hang -whether I was alive or dead. I must tell her, as an antidote, that my -father was a parson; I have known that to take effect in the most -ungodly circles. Perhaps, if I could swear I should feel better. But I -am not a swearing man; besides, she might leave me to that painfully -dull maid if I did. And that would be a pity," he added reflectively; -"for, at least, she does know how to make a fellow as comfortable as a -fractured leg will let him be." - -A sudden shoot of pain made him turn his head wearily on one side. He -had told the doctor, only that morning, that it was nothing, and that -he did not suffer much; and then had been unreasonably disappointed at -the professional verdict that it was a simple fracture, and presented -no complications. He would have liked to be an interesting case, at -least. - -"I wonder if I am likely to get a glimpse of that jolly little girl," -he went on, looking idly at the faded photograph opposite. "It is -probably the one who steadied my head in the dark, last night; the one -who laughs, too. A Philistine place like this could never produce two -of them. However, I shall never find out as long as I am nursed by -that dragon. And after all, why trouble about it? It shows what a -baleful effect idleness can have upon a man, when an unsophisticated -parson's daughter with a jolly laugh can--hullo!" - -He heard voices on the landing, and listened eagerly. There was the -sound of a scuffle and a stifled laugh, and some one shook the door by -falling clumsily against it. - -"Come in, do!" shouted Paul desperately, and the door opened with a -jerk. - -"I say, did we disturb you, or anything? I'm beastly sorry; but Kitty -would rot so, and I couldn't help it, really. And, I say, I'm awfully -sorry you're so hit up." - -It was Ted, apologetic and self-conscious. Paul smiled encouragingly; -it was at least some one to talk to, even if it was a boy under -twenty, for whose kind he had as a rule little sympathy. He could see -there was some one else too, on the landing outside; so he smiled a -little more. It pleased him to have his curiosity satisfied, though -perhaps he would not have liked it to be called curiosity. - -"You see, Kitty will play so poorly," pursued Ted, plunging his hands -in his pockets to give himself more confidence. "I shouldn't have -dreamt of bothering you like this, if it hadn't been for Kitty." - -"I am quite content to believe that it was the fault of Miss Kitty, -whose acquaintance I have not the honour of possessing," said Paul -gravely. "But won't you come in a little further, and explain -matters?" - -Ted came in a good deal further, just then, assisted by an unexpected -push between his shoulders. - -"It's so poor of Kitty; and it isn't my fault, I swear it isn't!" said -Ted, in an injured tone. "You see, she wants me to say--Oh, hang, Kit, -do let a fellow explain! Well, she says that--that--well, she wants to -come in too, don't you see? She doesn't see why she should have to go -and talk to horrid old men in the village, when they won't let her -come in and talk to you; at least, that's what she says. And she says -it's all rotten humbug-- Well, you know you did! But Miss Esther will -about kill me when she finds it out. Kitty never thinks of that, she's -so poor." - -Paul smiled again, partly at himself for being young enough to -appreciate the childishness of the situation. - -"Where is Miss Esther?" he asked, like a man, wisely. - -"Oh, she's out right enough; but still--" - -"Yes," said Paul reflectively, "I recognise that there are still -difficulties in the way. But don't you think, as I am decidedly as -much afflicted as the other horrid old men you mentioned, and as Miss -Esther is out, that--we might all agree to vote it rotten humbug? Just -for a few minutes, you know!" - -And Katharine, who had been listening anxiously to every word, -slipped into the room at this point of the negotiations, and closed -the door; nodded cheerfully to Paul as though she had known him all -her life, and dropped sideways on the chair at the end of his bed. - -"I knew you wouldn't mind," she said. "Ted declared you would; but -Ted's so awfully dense sometimes, isn't he?" - -Paul was willing to admit that, on this occasion, Ted had been -remarkably dense; but he only murmured some commonplace about the -correctness of her judgment, and the honour he felt at her -discrimination. - -"Oh, I _knew_!" said Katharine confidently. "I am never wrong about -people. Ted is. He makes fearful hashes about people; I always have to -tell him who is to be trusted, and who isn't." - -"I should like to know," observed Paul, "how you manage to know so -much about people whom you have never seen before,--myself, for -instance!" - -"But I have seen you before! Oh, I forgot; of course, you didn't know. -I was with daddy last night when he came to fetch you. Don't you -remember? I suppose you were too bad to notice much." - -"That must have been it," assented Paul. "I just remember some one -supporting my head, or it may have been my shoulders--" - -"It was your head. That was me!" cried Katharine, with animation. -"Wasn't Ted jealous when I told him,--that's all!" - -"I wasn't," said Ted. "But it was just like Kitty. Girls always do -have all the luck." - -"I am glad," said Paul drily, "that at least one of you was fortunate -enough to view my discomfiture." - -Ted laughed, but Katharine became suddenly thoughtful. - -"I was very sorry for you, I was really," she said. - -"Oh, no, excuse me,--merely interested," said Paul. - -Katharine reflected again. - -"Perhaps I was; how caddish of me!" she said, and looked at him -doubtfully. Paul raised his eyebrows; to be taken seriously by a -woman, at such an early stage of her acquaintance, was a new -experience to him. - -"Oh, please," he exclaimed, laughing, "don't be truthful whatever you -are! It's much more charming to think that you _were_ sorry for me." - -Katharine still seemed puzzled. She turned to Ted instinctively, and -he came to her rescue. - -"She thought you were awfully plucky and all that; she told me so. I -was rather sick about it, of course; but, after all, it wasn't really -worth minding because you were hit up so completely, you see." - -"You are a singularly brutal pair of young people," observed Paul, -glancing from one to the other. "I should like you to have the feel of -my leg for half an hour. I fancy you would find yourselves 'hit up,' -as you are pleased to call it." - -"Oh, but we're not a bit brutal," objected Katharine. "Ted never can -help saying what he thinks at the moment,--that's how it is. It's -because he shows all his feelings, don't you see?" - -"You mustn't think Kitty is unfeeling because she doesn't say things," -continued Ted. "She hates spoofing people, and she never says things -she doesn't mean. She doesn't always say them when she does mean them; -it's rather rough on a fellow sometimes, I think," he added feelingly. - -The garden gate swung to, and they sprang to their feet -simultaneously. - -"Shall we scoot?" asked Ted, who seemed the more apprehensive of the -two. - -"I suppose so. Bother!" said Katharine regretfully. Ted was already -gone, but she still lingered. The flying visit to Paul, instead of -satisfying her curiosity about him, had only roused it still more; and -she sauntered half absently towards him, without the least pretence of -being in a hurry to go. - -"Good-bye," she said, and put her hand into his. It was the first time -she had shown any signs of shyness, and Paul began to like her better. - -"Not good-bye," he said lightly. "You will come in again, won't you? -We shall have a good lot to tell each other." - -"Shall we?" - -"Well, don't you think so?" He dropped her hand and laughed. It seemed -absurd that this child, who behaved generally like a charming tomboy, -should persist in taking him seriously when he merely wanted to -frivol. - -"I'll come if it won't bore you," said Katharine shortly. She was -wondering what there was to laugh at. - -"Can you write a tolerable hand?" he asked. - -"I write all daddy's things for him." - -"Then we'll see if something can't be arranged," he began. He -congratulated himself on his tact in helping to gratify her evident -wish to see him again; but she baffled him once more by suddenly -brightening up, and seizing upon his suggestion before he had half -formed it. - -"Could I be your secretary, do you mean? Why, of course I could. What -fun! Aunt Esther? Oh, that's nothing. _I_ will manage Aunt Esther. -Good-bye." - -She managed Aunt Esther very effectually at supper time, by calmly -announcing her intention of becoming Mr. Wilton's secretary. And the -Rector's sister, who was a curious compound of conventional dogma and -worldly ignorance, and knew into the bargain that it was of no use to -withstand her headstrong niece, gave in to her newest whim with a bad -grace. - -"Do as you like; I am no longer the head of the house, I suppose," she -observed fretfully. - -"Oh, yes, you are, Aunt Esther!" retorted Katharine with provoking -cheerfulness. "_I_ only want to be Mr. Wilton's secretary." - -Paul was not so elated as she had expected to find him, when she -walked into his room in Miss Esther's wake on the following day, and -told him that she had gained her point and was ready to become his -secretary. Being such a responsive creature herself, she always -expected every one else to share her emotions. - -"Aren't you glad?" she asked him anxiously. - -Not being able to explain that what he wanted was not so much a -secretary as a pretty girl to amuse him, he said with his usual smile -that he was delighted, and proceeded to dictate various uninteresting -letters of a business-like character. - -"So you live in the Temple," she observed, as she folded up a letter -to his housekeeper. "Isn't it a gloriously romantic place to live in?" - -"It is convenient," said Paul briefly. And that was all the -conversation they had that day. - -He wanted no letters written the next day, and she read the paper to -him instead. But Miss Esther stayed in the room all the time, with her -knitting, and there was no conversation that day either. On the third -day, however, her aunt was wanted in the parish; and she deputed the -Rector to take her place in the sick room. She might have known that -he would forget all about it, directly she was gone; but Miss Esther -always acted on the assumption that her brother possessed all the -excellent qualities she wished him to have, and it never occurred to -her that he would spend the afternoon in finishing his paper on the -antiquities of the county. - -"Aunt Esther has gone to see a poor woman who has lost her baby. I -never can imagine why a woman who has lost her baby should be visited -just because she is poor. Can you?" said Katharine, as she settled -herself on the spare-room window-seat with her writing materials. - -"No," said Paul, concealing his satisfaction that Miss Esther was of a -different opinion. "You needn't bother about writing any letters -to-day, thanks," he continued carelessly; "and I don't think I want to -hear the paper, either." - -"Don't you? oh!" said Katharine, looking disappointed. "Then there's -nothing I can do for you?" - -"Oh, yes. You can talk, if you will," said Paul, smiling. "Come and -sit on the chair at the end of the bed, where you sat the first day -you came in. I can see you, then." - -"It is ever so much nicer to see the person you are talking to, isn't -it?" observed Katharine, as she obeyed his suggestion. - -"Much nicer," assented Paul, though it had never occurred to him to -suggest that Miss Esther should occupy that particular chair. "Now -then, talk, please!" - -Katharine made a sign of dismay. - -"I can't," she said. "You begin." - -"Who is your favourite poet?" asked Paul solemnly. She disconcerted -him by taking his question seriously, and he had to listen to her -enthusiastic eulogies of several favourite poets, before he had an -opportunity of explaining himself. - -She detected him in the act of suppressing a yawn, and she stopped -suddenly, in the middle of a sentence. - -"I believe I am boring you dreadfully. Shall I go?" she asked. The -colour had come into her cheeks, and her voice had a note of distress -in it. - -"I want you to tell me something, first," was his unexpected reply. -"Do you talk about poetry to young Morton?" - -"Ted? Why, no, of course not. What an awful reflection! Ted isn't a -bit poetic, not a little bit; and he would scoff like anything. I have -never talked about the things I really like to anybody before; not -even to daddy, much." - -This was a little dangerous, and the tomboy daughter of the parson was -not the kind of personality that was likely to make the danger -fascinating. And Paul's first impulse was to wince at the unstudied -frankness of her remark; but four days of seclusion had been -exceedingly chastening, and the flattery that underlay her words was -not unpleasing to him. - -"Then what made you suppose _I_ cared about poetry, eh?" he asked -deliberately. - -"Why," said Katharine, staring at him, "you began it, don't you -remember? I thought you wanted me to tell you what I thought." - -"Yes, yes; I am aware of that. But don't you think we have talked -enough about poetry for one day?" said Paul, half closing his eyes. He -was already regretting his stupidity in expecting her to understand -him. - -"How awfully funny you are! First you say--" - -"Yes," said Paul, as patiently as he could, "I know. Don't let us say -any more about it. Supposing you were to talk to me now as you would -talk to young Morton, for instance!" - -Katharine shook her head doubtfully. - -"I don't think I could. You're not like Ted; you don't like the same -sort of things. You're not like me, either." - -Paul smiled grimly. - -"We're both the same in reality, Miss Kitty. Only, you are focussing -it from one end, and I from another. I mean, you are too abominably -young and I am too abominably old, for conversation. We shall have to -keep to the favourite poets, after all." - -Katharine had come round to the side of the bed, and was regarding him -critically, with a very serious look on her face. - -"What is the matter?" she asked abruptly. "I hate people to say they -are old--when they are nice people. It makes me feel horrid; I don't -like it. I never let daddy talk about growing old; it gives me a sort -of cold feel, don't you know? I wish you wouldn't. Besides, I am not -young, either; I am nearly nineteen. I know I look much younger, -because I won't put my hair up; but my skirts are nearly to the -ground. What makes you say I am too young to be talked to?" - -"I said you were too young for conversation. It is not quite the same -thing, is it?" - -"Isn't it?" said Katharine, and she looked away out of the window for -a full minute. What she saw there she could not have told, but it was -something that had never been there before. When she brought her eyes -round again to his face, the serious look had gone out of them, and -they were twinkling with fun. "I know!" she laughed. "Let's talk -without any conversation." - -"She's the same woman, after all," was Paul's reflection. - -They did not mention the favourite poets again; but they had no -difficulty for the rest of the afternoon in finding something to talk -about. It was getting late when the garden gate gave its usual -warning, and Katharine got up with a sigh. - -"When shall I see you again?" he asked. They had not gone through the -formality of shaking hands, this time. - -"When Aunt Esther has _not_ gone to see a poor woman who has lost her -baby," said Katharine, laughing. - -"Nonsense! we will keep the letters and the newspaper for that kind of -visit. Won't some one else die, don't you think, so that we can have -another talk?" - -"I'll see," said Katharine, which could not strictly be called an -answer to his question. But it fully satisfied Paul. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -The weeks crept on; and Paul Wilton, from being merely an object of -interest and pity, gradually became the greatest mystery in the -neighbourhood. Such a reputation was entirely unsought on his part, -although, had he been aware of it, the probability is that it would -not have been wholly unpleasing to him. For it had been his pose -through life to mystify people,--not by deliberately assuming to be -what he was not, but by strenuously avoiding any appearance of what he -was; and his indifference, which was what people first noticed in him, -was entirely feigned for the purpose of concealing that his real -attitude towards life was a critical one. It was not unreasonable that -a man of this calibre, suddenly placed in a quiet country parish, -should end in making some sort of a sensation there. Miss Esther from -the beginning had suffered much, and silently; but a man who had a -father in Crockford and a mother in Debrett, was to be forgiven a -good deal, and she felt compelled to overlook even the ash of his -cigarettes, and his French novels, when she found them both on the -chaste counterpane of the best spare-room bed. But there were others -in Ivingdon who, not having much of a pedigree themselves, were -inclined to undervalue the importance of one; and some of these, the -doctor, for instance, and Peter Bunce the churchwarden, came to the -Rector for enlightenment. - -"Eh, but he doan't give hisself away much, do he, now?" said the -churchwarden, jerking his thumb in the direction of the lame man, who -had just swung himself past the window on his crutches. "He be proper -close, I reckon, eh?" - -"He is a very intelligent young man," said the Rector vaguely. "He has -quite an appreciation of Oriental china." - -It was Sunday afternoon, and the Rector was dispensing whiskey and -cigars to his guests, with a prodigality that might have been -attributed to Miss Esther's absence at the Sunday school. There was an -ease, too, about their manners and their conversation, which was to be -traced to the same cause. - -"I suppose he's beastly clever, and all that, isn't he?" asked Ted -morosely. He was sitting on the window ledge, a convenient position -which allowed him to shout occasional answers to the questions that -came from Katharine on the other side of the lawn. Just then, however, -she was joined by Paul; and Ted knew instinctively that he would have -no more questions to answer after that. - -"It is difficult to say what he is," observed the doctor. "You can't -get him to talk; at least, not much. Generally, when I've done all the -professional business, he relapses into total silence, and I just have -to go; but sometimes he is inclined to be chatty, and then he makes a -delightful companion. But the odd thing is, that I know no more about -the man himself at the end of a conversation than I did at the -beginning. A barrister, did you say he was? That accounts for the -judicial manner, then; but the question is, what is there behind it -all?" - -No one seemed to have an answer ready to the doctor's question; but -Peter Bunce took a long pull at the whiskey, and brushed the cigar ash -from his capacious waistcoat, and attacked the subject with fresh -vigour. - -"There ain't no finding out anything about no one, without you take a -bit o' trouble," he remarked wisely. "Mayhap Mr. Austen, yonder, -might know a something more than us folk. Hasn't he got never a -father, now? There's a won'erful lot to be gathered from knowing of a -man's father, there is. Like enough he's one o' they London folk, as -daren't speak aloud for fear of its getting into the newspapers. -London folk is mighty well watched, so I've heard; there's never a -moment's peace or safety in London, some say. Mayhap Mr. Wilton's -father is a London gen'leman, now!" - -"His father?" said the Rector, with sudden enthusiasm. "His father was -something short of a genius, sir! He is the best authority we have on -the numismatics of his neighbourhood. Have you never heard of Wilton's -'Copper Tokens'?" - -"Guess we have, sir, pretty often," laughed Ted. - -The Rector looked pathetic, and handed him another cigar, with an -apprehension that arose from the distant clang of the garden gate. - -"They all laugh at me," he said in a cheery tone that evoked no one's -pity. "I'm an old fool; oh, yes, we know all about that. But if you -had read Wilton's 'Copper Tokens,' you wouldn't want to know who this -man's father was. Let me see,--what did I do with my Crockford?" - -"I expect you thought it was a hymn-book and carted it up to church -this morning," said Ted, in a tone of forced merriment. He still had -one eye on the lawn, and what he saw there did not raise his spirits. - -"Died at the age of fifty-eight, when his son was a lad of eighteen, -he tells me," continued the Rector. "That was the same date that the -fifth edition of the 'Copper Tokens' was issued, some ten or fifteen -years ago now. Bless me, how time flies when we're not growing any -younger!" - -For the space of a moment or two, everybody present was occupied with -a mental calculation. The churchwarden was the first to give up the -attempt, and he returned doggedly to the original topic. - -"Age ain't got nothing to do with it," he began, heaving a sigh of -relief as he substituted his pipe for the unusual cigar. "'Cause why? -Some folk's old when they're young, and other folk's young when -they're old; that's where it lays, you see." - -Nobody did see; but Ted threw in a vicious comment. - -"The Lord only knows how old he is, but he's as played out as they -make them," he said. - -The churchwarden smiled, without understanding, and Cyril Austen was -too deep in his Crockford to hear what was passing; but the doctor had -been young himself, not so long ago, and he understood. - -"Does he talk about leaving?" he asked in a casual manner, directing -his remark to the boy on the window ledge. "There's nothing to keep -him here now, as far as I can see." - -"Don't know anything about him," said Ted, with a studied -indifference. "I should have thought, from the way Kitty speaks of -him, that London couldn't do without him for another moment. What they -all see in him, I don't know. I suppose it's because I'm such a rotten -ass, but he seems just like anybody else to me as far as brains are -concerned. And he can't talk for nuts. But Miss Esther says his family -is all square; and that's enough for the women, I suppose." - -The doctor nodded sympathetically, and Ted laughed as if he were a -little ashamed of taking himself so seriously. - -"He's going to make himself scarce on Wednesday," he continued, rather -more cordially. "He's got a pal of his coming down on business -to-morrow, and they're going off together. Good thing, too, eh? Don't -know anything about the pal--he's not any great shakes, I expect; but -Wilton swears he knows a lot about coins, and of course that will -fetch the Rector. Fact is, this place is getting too clever for me. -There's Kitty, who rots about poetry and things till it makes you -sick. She never used to; and it's no good her trying to spoof you that -she isn't altered, because she is,--and all for the sake of a chap -like Wilton, who hardly ever opens his mouth! It's so poor, isn't it?" - -But here the arrival of Miss Esther postponed any further discussion -of the Rectory guest. The doctor suddenly remembered that he had a -patient to visit, and took an abrupt departure; and the churchwarden -refused a curt invitation to tea, and went hastily after him. Ted -lingered a moment or two, without being noticed at all; and Miss -Esther, having successfully routed her brother's guests, went into the -garden to disturb the conversation on the other side of the lawn. - -Some two days later, Paul Wilton and his friend from London were -pacing up and down the narrow strip of gravel path that skirted the -house on the south side. In the absence of Katharine, who had induced -him to prolong the period of helplessness, as he would have wished to -prolong any other pleasurable sensation, Paul had no reason to play -the invalid; and, except for an occasional limp, there was nothing in -his walk to indicate lameness. There was the usual inexplicable smile -on his face, however, as he listened to the bantering conversation of -the man at his side, and occasionally interrupted it with one of his -dry, terse remarks. His companion was a little elderly man, with small -features and a fresh complexion, whose geniality was the result of -temperament rather than of principle, and whose conversation was toned -with a personal refrain that made it naïvely amusing. - -"That's a pretty child, by the way," he was saying, with the air of a -connoisseur. Katharine had just left them, and they could hear her -laughing with her father indoors. Paul murmured an assent, and went on -smoking. His companion glanced at him sideways, and smiled gently. - -"Very pretty," he repeated, "but ridiculously young. And who is the -charming boy who is so gone on her? She doesn't see it a bit, and he -hasn't the pluck to tell her. I'm quite sorry for that boy; I've been -in his shoes many a time, and I know what it feels like. He's got a -lot to teach her, that's certain, eh? Doesn't interest you, I suppose! -If it had been me, now, chained here with a broken leg and nothing to -do, with an idyllic love story going on under my eyes--ah, well! you -are not made that way, and I am too old, I suppose. Besides, in spite -of her charm, she isn't exactly my style." - -"No," said Paul; "she is not your style." - -"All the same, she's remarkably pretty, and I'm not too old to admire -a pretty woman," chuckled his companion. "'Pon my word, I'm quite -inclined to envy that boy. Just imagine a veritable woman, still -thinking herself a child, with a delightful boy for her only -companion, and no one to stand between them! I'd have given worlds for -such a chance when I was his age." - -"But, you see, you are not his age; so it is no use trying to cut him -out. Besides, you ought to know better, Heaton, at your time of life," -said Paul, in a jesting manner that was a little strained. Heaton took -his remark rather as a compliment than otherwise. - -"You won't alter me, my boy; you'll find me the same to the end of the -chapter,--so make up your mind to that. I'm not ashamed of it either, -not I! Seriously, though, I'm quite interested in our little love -story yonder. I should like to help that boy. Silly ass! why doesn't -he make a plunge for it? He isn't likely to have a rival." - -"Perhaps that is why he doesn't," observed Paul. "But I don't see why -we should trouble ourselves about it." - -"That's where you're so cynical," complained Heaton. "These little -affairs always interest me intensely; they bring back my youth to me, -and remind me of my lost happiness. Oh, life! what you once held for -me! And now it is all gone, buried with my two sweet wives, and I am -left alone with no one to care what becomes of me." - -His eyes were moist as he finished speaking, and Paul walked along at -his side without offering any consolation. He would have found it -difficult to explain why he had chosen Laurence Heaton for a friend. -It would be more correct to say, perhaps, that Heaton had chosen him, -and that he had lacked the energy or the power to shake him off. It -was generally true that his sentimental egotism bored Paul -excessively, and yet he found something to like in a nature that was -so unlike his own; and he was so secretive himself that the artless -confidences of Heaton, if a little wearisome, at least relieved him of -the necessity of adding to the conversation. Besides this, he was a -man who never willingly sought the friendship of others, and the -obvious preference that the good-natured idler, who was so many years -his elder, had shown for him when they first met at a public dinner, -had secretly flattered him not a little, and their acquaintance had -grown after that as a matter of course. - -"All the same," resumed Heaton in his ordinary manner, "an outsider -never can do much in these cases. Perhaps it would be better to leave -them alone; and yet, if the boy were to come to me for the benefit of -my larger experience--" - -"Don't you think," interrupted Paul, "that we have talked about a -couple of children as much as we need? It's all very well for an old -reprobate like yourself to spend your time in reviving your lost -youth, but I haven't so much leisure as you have, and I want to hear -about those shares you mentioned in your letter last week." - -Heaton laughed good-humouredly. - -"You don't realise, my dear fellow, how anything like that always -interests me. But you wait until your time comes; at present you are -too cynical to understand what I mean." - -"Or too romantic," suggested Paul. - -"Oh, no!" said Heaton. "Romance is only an equivalent for -inexperience; I think you're a cold-hearted beggar who lets the best -things in life go by, but I shouldn't call you inexperienced. You've -got a finished way with women that always appeals to them; women love -a little humbug, if it's well done. I'm too obvious for them, too -simple-minded, and that always frightens them off." - -"Does it?" smiled Paul. - -"Now, you ought to marry," continued Heaton briskly. "I believe in -marriage, hanged if I don't! and it's been the making of me. -Everything that is good in me I owe to my married life." - -"Did it really take two marriages?" murmured Paul. His companion -smiled at the joke against himself, and they stood for a moment in -silence, looking over the lawn that had just acquired its fresh bloom -of green. Katharine's voice came out to them again through the open -window, this time raised in indignant dispute with her aunt. - -"She is a curious mixture of hardness and sentiment," said Paul -involuntarily, "and her surroundings have made her a prig; but she -interests me rather." - -"Ah," said Heaton, "I quite agree with you. There _is_ a touch of the -prig about her. But can you wonder? She is the only bit of life and -prettiness about the place, and she never meets her equal. They think -a good lot of her, too. And the parson's daughter generally thinks a -good lot of herself." - -"She does it rather charmingly," said Paul, in a dispassionate tone, -"and she is fairly well read, and knows how to express herself. For a -woman, she has quite a sense of criticism." - -"That's bad," said Heaton decidedly, "very bad. A woman should have no -sense of criticism. That is what makes her a prig. In fact, as I have -often said to you before, a prig is made in three ways. First of all, -she is made by her own people, if she happens to be clever; and -secondly, by the world, if she happens to be successful; and thirdly, -by her lover, if she isn't in love with him. But of course if she _is_ -in love with him he may be the cause of her unmaking." - -Some one in a light-coloured print frock jumped out of a side window -and disappeared in the direction of the summer-house. The two men -stood and looked after her without being noticed. - -"As you say," remarked Heaton blandly, "she does it rather -charmingly." - -Paul roused himself with an effort. - -"Half-past three," he said, looking at his watch. "Didn't you promise -to go and look at the Rector's coins some time this afternoon?" - -And in another five minutes he had joined Katharine in the -summer-house. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The summer house was set far back in the shrubbery, and although -hidden from the house by laurels and box-trees, was open at the front -to a stretch of brightly coloured flower beds and trimly cut grass. It -was a glorious day in May, and spring in its fulness was come. The -white fruit blossoms had given place to crumpled green leaves, and the -early summer flowers were in bud. Paul Wilton lay on a low basket -chair, where he had flung himself down after making his escape from -his garrulous friend; and at his feet, with an open book on her lap, -sat Katharine. Obviously, a great many poor women had lost a great -many babies, since the day she had sat on the chair at the end of his -bed and talked about her favourite poets, for the book on her lap was -only a pretence to which neither of them paid the least attention, and -their conversation was of a purely personal nature, the kind of -conversation that has no subject and no epigrams, and is carried on in -half-finished sentences. - -"I am beginning to understand why you don't paint or write or do -things, although you know such a lot about them," observed Katharine, -half closing her eyes and making a picture of the square of sunlit -garden as she saw it framed in the woodwork of the summer-house door. - -Paul smiled. It was very pleasant to be told by this child of Nature -that he knew "such a lot about things." - -"Tell me why," was all he said, however. - -"I think it is because it puts you in a position to criticise every -one else. It makes you so superior, in a sort of way. Oh, bother! I -never can explain things. But don't you see, if you were a painter -yourself, you couldn't say that there was only one painter living, as -you do now. Could you?" - -"Perhaps I could," said Paul, and laughed gently at her look of -surprise. - -"Of course I know you are only laughing at me," she said in an injured -tone. "You never think I am serious about anything." - -"My dear Miss Katharine," he assured her, "on the contrary, I think -you are most terribly serious about everything. I have never had so -much serious conversation since I was nineteen myself. You will have -to grow older, before you learn to be young and frivolous." - -"But _you_ are not frivolous," she protested. "You know you are not. -You only say that to tease me." - -"I only say it to convince you. It is not my fault if you do not -understand, is it?" - -"I do understand, I am certain I do. At least"--she paused suddenly, -and looked at him with one of her long critical looks. "Perhaps you -are right, and I don't understand you a bit. How queer! I don't think -I like the feel of it." She ended with a little gesture of distaste. - -"I shouldn't bother about it, if I were you," said Paul calmly. "You -will understand better when you are older--and younger. Meanwhile, it -is very pleasant, don't you think?" - -She was leaning forward with her hands folded under her chin, and did -not answer him. - -"What made you choose to be a barrister?" she asked suddenly. - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Merely because it presented greater opportunities for idleness than -any other profession, I suppose." - -Katharine swung herself round on her low stool, and looked at him -incredulously. - -"But don't you ever want to _do_ anything,--you with all your brains -and your talents?" she cried impatiently. "Surely you must have some -ambition?" - -"Oh, no," replied Paul, arranging the cushions at the back of his head -and sinking down on them again. "I hope I shall always be comfortable, -that's all; and I have enough money for that, thank the Lord!" - -"Supposing you had been poor?" - -"Don't suppose it," rejoined Paul; and her puzzled features relaxed -into a smile. - -"I can't think why you have a face like that, then," she said -reflectively. - -"What's the matter with my face? Does it suggest possibilities? To -think that I might have been a minor poet all these years, without -knowing it!" - -Katharine returned to her examination of the flower beds; and Paul lay -back, and blew rings of smoke into the air, and watched her through -them with an amused look on his face. He recalled some casual words of -Heaton's which had annoyed him very much at the time,--"If I'm not in -love with a woman, I don't want to give her another thought;" and he -glanced at her slim waist as she sat there, and tried lazily to -analyse his own feelings towards her. - -"What are you thinking about?" she asked, turning round again. - -"About you," he said, and brought his feet lightly to the ground and -sat up and stretched himself. - -"What about me?" she asked curiously. - -"I am wondering if you will miss me very much when I am gone," he -said, and slid slowly along the chair until he sat behind her, where -he could just see her rounded profile as she turned her face away from -him. - -"Oh, yes, awfully! I wish, I do wish you were not going!" She was -looking very hard at the flower beds now. - -"So do I, Miss Katharine. It has been quite delightful; I shall never -forget your sweet care of me. But you will soon forget all about me. -And besides, there is Ted." - -"What has that got to do with it?" she asked swiftly. - -"Oh, nothing, surely! It was merely an inconsequent reflection on my -part." - -There was a pause for a few moments. - -"Talk," he said suddenly, and put his hand gently against her cheek. -It warmed under his touch, and he heard the tremor in her voice as -she spoke. - -"I--I can't talk. Oh, please don't!" - -"Can't you? Try." - -She put her hand up to his, and he caught hold of her fingers, and -dropped a light kiss on them as they lay crumpled up on his palm. Then -he pressed them slightly, and let them go, and walked away to the -house without looking at her again. His countenance was as unmoved as -if he had just been talking archæology to the Rector; but his -reflections seemed absorbing, and he hardly roused himself to move -aside when Ted came lounging out of the house and ran against him in -the porch. - -"Hullo!" said Ted. "I'm awfully sorry; I didn't see you, really." - -"Oh, no matter!" said Paul, who, never being guilty of a clumsy action -himself, could afford to remain undisturbed. "Miss Katharine's in the -summer house," he added, in answer to Ted's disconsolate look. "We've -been reading Browning. At least, Miss Katharine out of her goodness -has been trying to make a convert of me. I am afraid I was an -unappreciative listener." - -Ted glanced inquiringly at him. Somehow, it was not so easy to -disapprove of Paul to his face as it was behind his back. - -"How poor!" he said sympathetically. "Kitty does play so cheap, -sometimes, doesn't she? Browning is enough to give you the hump, I -should think. But she never does that to me." - -"Probably," said Paul, disengaging a cigarette paper; "she would not -feel the same necessity in your case. You would have greater -facilities for conversation, I mean. Won't you have a cigarette?" - -Ted looked towards the shrubbery, but lingered as though the -invitation commended itself to him. - -"I think I'll have a pipe, if it's all the same to you. May I try that -'baccy of yours? Thanks, awfully!" - -They sat down on opposite sides of the little porch, and puffed away -in silence. - -"You haven't been over much, lately," observed Paul presently. - -Ted glanced at him again, but was disarmed by his tone of -friendliness. - -"No," he said. "At least, I was over once or twice last week, but I -never got a look in with Kitty. I mean," he added hastily, "she was -out, or something." - -"Ah!" said Paul indifferently; "that was unfortunate." - -"It was a howling nuisance," said Ted, his troubled look returning. -"The truth is," he went on, feeling a desire for a confidant to be -stronger than his distrust of Paul, "there's something I've been -trying to tell Kit for a whole week, and for the life of me I can't -get it out." - -"Going to make a fool of himself at the very start," thought Paul. - -"You see," continued Ted with an effort, "_she_ has been playing up -so, lately." - -"Your mother?" questioned Paul. - -Ted nodded. - -"And now she's got me a confounded berth in some place in the -city,--candles, or grocery, or something beastly. It's the poorest -thing I ever heard. And I've got to start on Thursday, so I must leave -home to-morrow. And Kitty doesn't know; that's the devil, you see." - -"I'm sorry," said Paul gravely. - -"Got it through some cousin of my father's," Ted went on in his -aggrieved voice. "No one but a cousin of one's father ever hears of -such rotten jobs. Said it would be the making of me, or some rot. I've -heard that before; the men who never did a stroke of work themselves -always talk that sort of cheapness. Have to be there at half-past -eight in the morning, too, blow it!" - -"I'm sorry," said Paul again. He began to feel a vague interest in the -boy as he sat opposite and stretched his long legs out to their full -length, and jerked out his complaints with the brier between his -teeth. - -"_She_ thinks it such great shakes, too; just because she won't have -to keep me any longer. She ought never to have had a son like me; I -wasn't meant for such beastly work. Why was I born? Why was I?" - -"The parents of the human animal are never selected," said Paul, for -the sake of saying something. - -"I know I'm a fool,--_she's_ told me that often enough; so I don't -expect to get anything awfully decent. But why did they educate me as -a gentleman? They should have sent me to a board school, and then I -should have been a bounder myself, and nothing would have mattered. -What's the use of being a gentleman and a fool? That's what I am; and -Kit's the only person in the world who doesn't make me feel it, bless -her!" - -Paul threw away his cigarette, and made a sudden resolve. He was -amused, in spite of himself, at the very youthful pessimism in Ted's -remarks; and for a moment he felt almost anxious that the boy should -not spoil his career by a false start. There was something novel, too, -in his playing the part of counsellor, and Paul Wilton was never -averse to a new sensation. So he leaned forward and tapped his -companion on the knee with his long, pointed forefinger. - -"You may send me to the devil, if you like," he said with his placid -smile, "but I should like to give you a word of advice first. May I?" - -Ted looked more depressed than before, but he did not seem surprised. - -"Fire ahead!" he said sadly. "I can stand an awful lot. People have -always given me advice, ever since I was a kid; it's the only thing -they ever have given me." - -"I don't suppose it is my business at all," said Paul, making another -cigarette with the elaborate precision he always spent on trifles; -"but I've seen so many nice chaps ruined through a mistake in early -life, and I know one or two things, and I'm older than you, too. Now, -how do you mean to tell that child over there that you are going -away?" - -Ted started. - -"What do you mean?" he asked. But his lower lip was twitching -nervously, and his colour had deepened. - -"Well, this is what I mean. Given an emotional creature like that, who -has never seen any man but you, and a young, impetuous fellow like -yourself, going to say good-bye to her for an indefinite -period,--well, you are both extremely likely to arrive at one -conclusion; and my advice to you is,--Don't." - -Ted said nothing, but continued to stare at the tesselated floor. The -elder man rose to his feet, and restored the match box to his pocket. - -"I nearly did it myself once," he said; "but I didn't." - -Ted looked him thoughtfully up and down. - -"I shouldn't think you did," he said, with unconscious sarcasm. Then -he too rose slowly to his feet, and stood on the doorstep for a -moment, with his hands in his pockets. "I think you're a confounded -cynical brute," he said rather breathlessly, "but I believe you're -right, and I won't." - -And he walked across the lawn to the shrubbery with the air of a man -on whose decision depends the fate of nations. - -Paul frowned slightly, as he always did when he was thinking deeply, -and then threw off his preoccupation with a laugh. Even when he was -alone, he liked to preserve his attitude of nonchalance. - -"How have I contrived to fall among such an appallingly serious set of -infants?" he muttered. "Hey-day! here's for London and life!" And he -turned indoors to look for a time-table. - -Ted stalked straight into the summer house, with his head in the air -and his mind filled with high-souled resolutions. Any one less -occupied with his own reflections would have seen that Katharine was -sitting with an absent look in her eyes, while the book she held in -her hand was open at the index-page. But Ted only saw in her the woman -he had just sworn within him to respect; and he took the book -reverently out of her hand, and sat down, also just behind her, on the -end of the basket chair. It was the same basket chair. - -"Kitty, I say," he began, clearing his throat, "I've come to tell you -something." - -Katharine glanced at his solemn face, and looked away again. She -wished he had not sat just there. - -"It must have something to do with a funeral, then," she said, with a -flippancy that would have aroused the suspicions of a more observant -person. But Ted was still absorbed in his high-souled resolutions, and -her abstraction failed to make any impression on him. - -"No, it hasn't," he rejoined gloomily. "I wish it had! I shouldn't -mind being dead, not I! It would cure this hump, anyhow. Perhaps some -one would be sorry, then; don't know who would, though! _She_'d only -complain of the expense of burying me." - -"Poor old man, who has been bullying you now?" asked Katharine, in a -dreamy voice that she strove to make interested. "Has _she_ been doing -anything fresh?" - -"Has she, that's all! She's been doing something to some purpose, this -time. Got me a beastly job, in a beastly city place; a pound a week; -soap, or wholesale clothing, or something poor. Says I ought to be -thankful to get anything. Thankful indeed! _She_ never shows a spark -of gratitude for her bally seven hundred a year, I know." - -"Oh, Ted! every one is going away. What shall I do?" The words escaped -her involuntarily. But he was still too full of his own troubles to -notice anything except that she seemed distressed; and this, of -course, was only natural. - -"I knew you'd be cut up," he said, kicking savagely at the leg of the -chair. "You're the only chap who cares; and you'll forget when I've -been gone a week. Oh, yes, you will! I ought never to have been born. -They're sure to be rank outsiders, too; and I can stand anything -sooner than bounders. It's too beastly caddish for words, and I'd like -to kill him for his rotten advice. What does he know about anything, a -played-out chap like that?" - -Ted's conversation was apt to become involved when he was agitated; -but on this occasion Katharine made no attempt to unravel it. - -"Poor Ted," she murmured tonelessly, and continued to think about -something else. - -"I don't know why you are so cut up about it. I'm such a rotten ass, -and you're so infernally smart! I haven't any right to expect you to -care a hang about me; I won't even ask you to write to me, when I'm -gone," cried Ted, making desperate efforts to keep his high-souled -resolutions. "It's a rotten, caddish world, and I'm the rottenest fool -in it." - -He waited for the contradiction that always came from Katharine at -this point of his self-abasement; but when she said nothing, and only -went on staring in the opposite direction, he felt that there was -something unusually wrong, and came hastily round to the front of her -chair and repeated his last remark with emphasis. - -"You may say what you like, but I am. All the same, I would sooner -chuck the whole show than make you unhappy. I'll be hanged if I don't -go away to-morrow without a single--" He stopped abruptly; for she was -looking up at him piteously, and his high-souled resolutions suddenly -melted into oblivion. "Kitty, old chum, don't cry! I'm not worth -it,--on my soul I'm not; blowed if I've ever seen you cry before! Good -old Kit, I say, don't. Oh, the devil! Do you really mind so much?" - -"Please, Ted, go away; you don't understand; go away; it isn't that at -all! Don't, Ted, don't! Oh, dear, whatever made me cry?" gasped -Katharine. But Ted would take no denial: a woman's tears would have -disarmed him, even if he had not been in love with her; and Katharine, -the tomboyish companion of years, appeared to him in a strangely -lovable light as she sobbed into her hands and made the feeblest -efforts to keep him away. His arms were round her in a moment, and -her head was pulled down on his shoulder, and he poured a medley of -broken sentences into her ear. - -"How was I to know you cared, old chum? Of course I have always cared; -but I never thought about it until that played-out London chap turned -up and put it into my head. Dear old Kitty! Why, do you know, I was -half afraid you were going to like him, one time; wasn't I a rotten -ass? But, you see, you're so bally clever, and all that; and I -supposed he was, too, and so I thought,--don't you see? And all the -while, it was me! Buck up, Kit! I won't split that you cried, on my -honour I won't. Oh, I say, I'm the most confoundedly lucky chap-- But, -oh, that infernal office in the city!" - -Katharine disengaged herself at last. His kisses seemed to burn into -her cheeks. She pushed back the basket chair into the corner of the -summer-house, and put her fingers over her eyes to shut out the flower -beds and the sunlight. - -"Stop, Ted! I don't know what you mean. You must not think those -things of me; they are simply not true. I can't let you kiss me like -that. Has the world gone suddenly mad, this afternoon? I don't -understand what has happened to every one. I don't understand -anything. Will you go, please, Ted? If you won't, I--I must." - -She forced out the disjointed sentences in hard, passionless tones. -Ted stood absolutely still where she left him, and watched her stumble -through the doorway and disappear among the laurel bushes and the old -box-trees. Then he rumpled up his thick hair with both his hands, and -laughed aloud. - -"I ought never to have been born," he said, and his voice broke. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -On a foggy morning in the beginning of the following January, Ted -Morton strolled out of his bedroom shortly before eight o'clock, and -rang the bell for breakfast. He yawned as though he were only half -awake, and swore gently at the weather as he stirred up the fire to -make a blaze. - -"What an infernal day!" he muttered, and pulled down the blind and -lighted the gas. The housekeeper brought in his breakfast and his -letters, and wisely withdrew without saying anything. Ted took the lid -off the teapot, and examined the three envelopes in turn. His face -brightened a little as he came to the third, and he buttered some -toast and ate it standing. - -"Well, I'm hanged! Not a single bill, and one from Kit, good old Kit! -That'll wait, and that. Well, I can stand hers; it's sure to be funny, -at all events." - -He put on one boot, and then stood up again and read her letter, with -a large cup of tea in his right hand. The smile on his face faded -gradually as he read, and he looked almost thoughtful when he folded -it up again and placed it in his breast-pocket. He was staunch in his -belief that Katharine could do no wrong, but her latest idea went far -to shake his conviction. - -"You see, it is like this," her letter ran. - - "There is plenty of money, really, but we have to behave as - though there were none; so the effect is the same, it seems to - me. I never thought about it before; I only found it out by - accident, when I overheard Aunt Esther abusing daddy for - buying some old architectural books. It seems as though he - really does spend a good lot, without knowing it; but then, - why shouldn't he? I won't have daddy bullied, so that I should - have enough bread and butter to eat; it is sordid and - horrible. They don't say a word about my earning my own - living, but that is what they are driving me to do; it seems - ridiculous that I should make other people uncomfortable by - being here, when there is plenty of money in the world waiting - to be earned by some one. Don't you think so? But when I said - I would come up to London and give lessons, Aunt Esther had - heroics, and said I should kill her. She didn't say how, and - I'm sure I did not feel particularly murderous; I only wanted - to laugh, while she lay on the sofa and said I was undutiful - for trying to save her anxiety! I don't understand parents. - They hide everything from you, and behave as if they were - wealthy; then they abuse you for costing so much to keep; and - then, when you say you will keep yourself, they call you - undutiful. There is no doubt that if we were to send away one - of the servants, I should be able to stay at home; but Aunt - Esther would have a fit at the idea. It seems to me that we - spend half our income in trying to persuade people of the - existence of the other half. Anyhow, I am coming up at once to - look for work. I haven't told daddy yet, and don't know how I - am going to; he will be so dreadfully cut up at losing me. But - I am sure he will understand; he is the one person who always - has understood. And won't it be glorious when I have earned - enough money to give him everything he wants? About rooms: I - saw an advertisement of some, a few doors from you. Do you - know them? I thought it would be rather nice to be near you," - etc., etc. - -Ted answered her letter the same evening. Writing letters was always a -labour to him, but he toiled over this one more than usual. - - "Of course you know what you are playing at," he wrote, "but I - believe it is awfully hard to get anything to do. London is - packed with people trying to find work; and most of them don't - find it. As to the rooms, it would be beastly jolly to have - you so close, but I don't advise your coming here; this street - pals on to Regent Street, you know, and it isn't supposed to - be pleasant for a girl. I will explain more fully when I see - you. Let me know if I can do anything for you. I'm a rotten - ass at expressing myself, as you know; but it will be awfully - decent to have you to take about. Only I don't like the idea - of your grinding away alone; it's rotten enough for a man, but - it's miles worse for a woman. Write again soon. It _is_ a - life, isn't it?" - -It was nearly a fortnight before he heard from her again, and he felt -guiltily conscious of not having encouraged her as much as she -expected. Then came another letter, in her small, firm handwriting; -and he tore it open anxiously. - - "I am coming up by the 4.55 on Wednesday," she wrote. "Will - you meet me? I thought perhaps you might, as it is a late - train. Oh, Ted, I feel so old and different somehow; I don't - believe I _could_ climb into that pantry window now! Daddy - took it so strangely; he hardly said anything at all. Do you - think it is possible that he really does not love me as much - as I love him? And I mind leaving him so much that it quite - hurts every time he asks me to do anything for him. Why was I - made to like people more than they like me? Why, I believe - daddy was rather relieved than otherwise. And I thought he - would never be able to do without me! Am I very conceited, I - wonder? But indeed, I do believe he will miss me dreadfully - when I am gone. Aunt Esther won't speak to me at all; I feel - in disgrace, without having done anything wrong. Parents are - inexplicable; they seem to grow tired of us as we grow up, - just like birds! And they persist in treating us like - children, while they are forcing us to behave as if we were - grown up; I can't understand them, or anything. Things seem to - be going all wrong, everywhere. I have heard of a sort of home - for working gentlewomen, near Edgware Road; it seems - respectable, and it is certainly cheap. They have left me to - arrange everything, just as though I were going to do - something wicked. And I thought all the while I was doing - something so splendid and heroic! You will meet me, won't you? - I feel so forlorn and miserable." - -Ted wrote back immediately:-- - - "It is a beastly rotten world. Neither of us ought to have - been born. I will cut the office and meet you. Buck up." - -And the following Wednesday saw him on the platform at Euston, trying -to find Katharine in the crowd of passengers who were pouring out of -the 4.55 train. It was not long before he discovered her, looking very -unlike her surroundings, and pointing out her luggage, half -apologetically, to a porter who seemed inclined to patronise her. -There was an exaggerated air of self-possession in her bearing, which -did not conceal her provincial look and rather showed that she felt -less composed than she wished to appear. Ted examined her for a moment -doubtfully, and then made his way towards her. He had not seen her -once since she left him in the summer-house, eight months ago; and he -was amazed at himself for not feeling more disturbed at meeting her -again now. Perhaps her prosaic winter clothing helped to rob the -occasion of romance; for, in his mind, he had vaguely expected to find -her wearing the garden hat and print frock in which he had last seen -her. But when she turned round and saw him, the frank pleasure in her -face was the same as it had always been, and the episode that had been -enacted in the summer-house seemed all at once to be blotted out of -their past. - -"You dear old boy, I knew you'd come! I feel so awfully out of it, in -this noise! Do make that porter understand I want to get across to -Gower Street, will you? He seems confused. I don't speak a different -language, do I? Just look at that glorious pair of bays; but, oh, what -a shame to give them bearing-reins! Why, Ted, what a swell you are in -that frock coat; you look just like the vet. at Stoke on Sundays! Oh, -I'm so sorry; I forgot! I want to get to Edgware Road, you see, and I -thought--" - -"Oh, we'll cab it, then! Nonsense! it isn't a bit cheaper, only -nastier. Girls never understand these things. Hadn't you better get -in, instead of examining the points of the horse? It won't stand any -quieter than that, if that's your idea." - -The porter went off with a handsome gratuity, and Katharine settled -herself in her corner of the cab, and began to examine her companion. - -"You've altered a little bit, Ted," she observed. "You're not so -afraid of unimportant people as you used to be. I believe you would go -into the post office at Stoke for your own stamps, now, instead of -sending me because the girl laughed at you. Do you remember? You are -such a swell, too; how you must be getting on at that place!" - -"Oh, I don't think so. I don't want to get on there; no decent chap -would," said Ted, and Katharine changed the conversation. - -"The streets seem very full," she said, as they came to a block in the -traffic. - -"Up to the brim," said Ted laconically. "I always wonder the horses -don't tread on one another's toes, don't you?" - -She laughed in her old joyous manner, and he leaned back contentedly -and looked at her. - -"At all events, you haven't altered much," he observed. - -"I've grown an inch, and my dresses are quite long now. Besides, I -have put up my hair. Didn't you notice?" - -"I thought there was something. Turn your head round. About time you -did, wasn't it? But why don't you make it stick out more? Other girls -do, don't they?" - -Katharine had not seen any other girls, and said so; whereupon Ted -supposed it was all right, if she thought it was, and added -conciliatingly, that at all events her new coat was "all there." They -chattered in the same trivial manner all the rest of the way; it was -like the old days, when they had never thought of making up a quarrel -formally, but had just resumed matters where they had been broken off. - -"Do you feel bad?" he asked, in his sympathetic way, when they stood -at last on the well-worn doorstep of number ten, Queen's Crescent, -Marylebone. - -"Oh, I don't know! I've got to go through with it now, haven't I? It's -just like you and me not to have touched on anything really important -all the way; isn't it? And I've got such a heap of things to tell -you," said Katharine, in a nervous tone; and she gave a little shiver -as an east wind came rushing up the street and blew dirty pieces of -paper against the dingy iron railings, whence they fluttered down into -the area. - -"Never mind; I'll look you up some evening soon. Let me know if you -want bucking up or anything. Good-bye, old chum." - -And she found herself inside a dimly lighted, distempered hall, face -to face with a kindly looking maid, who was greeting her with the air -of conventional welcome she had been told to assume towards strangers. -It was supposed to support the advertisement that this was a home. - -"Miss Jennings? No, miss; she won't be in, not before supper. And the -lady what's in your cubicle ain't cleared out yet, miss, so I can't -take your box up, neither. Will you come and have your tea, miss? This -way, if you please." - -Katharine followed her mechanically. The heroic notions that had -sustained her for weeks were vanishing before this pleasant-faced maid -and the dreary, distempered hall. For the first time in her life a -feeling of shyness suddenly overwhelmed her, as the servant held open -a door, and a hum of voices and clatter of plates came out into the -passage. For the moment, she hardly knew where to look or what to do. -The room into which she had been ushered was a bare-looking one, -though clean enough, and better lighted than the hall outside. Long -tables were placed across it, and around these, on wooden chairs, sat -some twenty or thirty girls of various ages, some of whom were talking -and others reading, as they occupied themselves with their tea. They -all looked up when Katharine came into the room, but the spectacle did -not present enough novelty to interest them long, and they soon looked -away again and went on with their several occupations. "_She_ won't be -here long,--not the sort," Katharine overheard one of them saying to -another, and the casual remark brought the colour to her cheeks, and -made her assume desperately some show of courage. - -"May I take this chair?" she asked, moving towards a vacant place as -she spoke. - -"It isn't anybody's; none of them are unless the plate is turned -upside down," volunteered the girl in the next chair. She was reading -"Pitman's Phonetic Journal," and eating bread and treacle. - -"You have to get your own tea from the urn over there, and collect -your food from all the other tables," she added in the same brusque -manner, as Katharine sat down and looked helplessly about her. -However, by following out the instructions thus thrown at her, she -managed, with a little difficulty, to procure what she wanted from the -food that was scattered incidentally about the room, and then returned -to her seat by the girl who was eating bread and treacle. - -"Isn't it rather late for tea?" she asked of her neighbour, who at -least seemed friendly in a raw sort of way. - -"It always goes on till seven; most of them don't get back from the -office before this, you see." - -"What office?" asked Katharine, who did not see. - -"Any office," returned the girl, staring round at her. "Post office -generally, or a place in the city, or something like that. Some of -them are shorthand clerks, like me,--it's shorter hours and better -paid as a rule; but it's getting overcrowded, like everything else." - -"Do you like it?" asked Katharine. The girl stared again. The -possibility of liking one's work had never occurred to her before. - -"Of course not; but we have to grin and bear it, like the food here -and everything else. I'm sorry for you if you mean to stop here long; -you don't look as though you could stand it. I've seen your sort -before, and they never stop long." - -"Oh, I mean to stop," said Katharine decidedly. But her heroic mood -had been completely dissipated by the leaden atmosphere of the place, -and she could not repress a sigh. - -"Butter bad?" asked her neighbour cheerfully. "Try the treacle; it's -safer. You can't go far wrong with treacle. The jam's always -suspicious; you find plum stones in the strawberries, and so on." - -Katharine was obliged to laugh, and the shorthand clerk, who had not -meant to make a joke, seemed hurt. - -"I beg your pardon," said Katharine, "but your cynical view of the -food is so awfully funny." - -"Wait till you've been here three years, like I have," said the -shorthand clerk, and she returned to her newspaper. - -Katharine tried to stay the sinking at her heart, and made a critical -review of the room. What impressed her most was the twang of the -girls' voices. Not that they were noisy,--for they seemed a quiet set -on the whole; either daily routine or respectability had succeeded in -subduing their spirits; but for all that they did not look unhappy, -and Katharine supposed, as her neighbour had remarked, that it was -possible to get used to it after a time. - -"And the room is certainly clean," she reflected, as she made an -effort to see the brighter side of things; "and the girls don't stare, -or ask questions, or do anything unpleasant. I _couldn't_ tell them -anything about myself if they did. And I do wish, though I know it's -awfully snobbish, that some of them were ladies." - -Her neighbour broke in upon her thoughts, and Katharine came to -herself with a start. - -"Whose cuby are you going to have?" she was asking. - -"I--I don't know. The servant said it was not empty yet. I should -rather like to unpack." - -"I don't suppose you will get a permanent one yet awhile," said the -shorthand clerk, in the cheerful way with which she imparted all her -unpleasant revelations; "they always move you about for a week or two -first. I expect you are coming into our room for the present; Miss -King is going up to Scotland by the night mail. Jenny will tell you -when she comes in. Supper is at nine," she added, pushing back her -chair and folding up her paper, "and there are two reception rooms -upstairs, if you want to sit somewhere till your cubicle is empty." - -Katharine thanked her, and felt more forlorn than ever when the -shorthand clerk had gone. But the servant came to her rescue a few -minutes later, and offered to take her to her room which was now -empty. - -"Is it Miss King's?" asked Katharine, and felt a little happier when -she learned that it was. She would have one acquaintance in the same -room at all events. But her heart sank again, when she found herself -alone with her two boxes in a curtained corner of a dingy room, the -corner that was the farthest from the window and the smallest of the -four compartments. There was hardly room to move; and when she tried -to unpack her boxes, she found that most of the drawers in the tiny -chest were already occupied, and that there were no pegs for her -dresses. - -"Could anything be more dreary?" she said aloud. "And the curtains are -just horribly dirty, and I don't feel as though I _could_ get into -that bed. And what a tiny jug and basin!" - -"Hullo, is that you?" said the voice of the shorthand clerk, who had -come into her part of the room unobserved. "I guessed you'd feel -pretty bad when you saw what it was like. They all do. But you might -as well turn up the gas, and make it as cheerful as possible. That's -better. Well, it's not much like the prospectus, is it?" - -Katharine remembered the plausible statements of the prospectus, and -broke into a laugh. There was a grim humour in her situation that -appealed to her, though it seemed to be lost on her companion. - -"Well, I'm glad you can laugh, though I never found it funny myself," -she called out. "But don't stay moping here; come into the -drawing-room until the bell rings for supper, won't you?" - -Katharine followed her advice, and allowed herself to be taken into -another bare looking room, over the dining-room. This was furnished -with a horsehair sofa and three basket chairs, which were all -occupied, several cane chairs, and two square tables, at which some -girls sat writing. One of them looked up as the door opened, and asked -the shorthand clerk to come and help her with her arithmetic. - -"You know I'm no good, Polly. Where's Miss Browne?" asked the -shorthand clerk, pushing a chair towards Katharine, and taking one -herself. - -"She's out; I think you might try," said the girl who had spoken to -her, in a peevish tone. "I have got to finish this paper to-night; and -I'm fagged now." - -"Can I help?" asked Katharine. The other two looked at her, and seemed -surprised. - -"This is some one new," explained her first friend. "Let me introduce -you: Miss Polly Newland, Miss-- Why, I don't even know your name, do -I?" - -"Austen," said Katharine. "Won't you tell me yours?" - -The girl said her name was Hyam,--Phyllis Hyam; and they returned to -the subject of the arithmetic. - -"Let's look at it, Polly," said Phyllis Hyam, and Miss Newland passed -the paper across the table. The two girls bent over it, and Phyllis -shook her head. - -"I never understood stocks,--too badly taught!" she said, and tilted -her chair and began to whistle. - -"Shall I try?" said Katharine, taking out a pencil. She worked out the -sum to the satisfaction of Polly Newland, who then unbent a little, -and explained that she was going up for the Civil Service examination -in March. - -"I say, you're clever, aren't you? Do you teach?" asked Phyllis Hyam, -bringing the front legs of her chair down again with a bang. - -"That is what I want to do; but I never have," replied Katharine. The -other two looked at her pityingly. - -"Any friends in London?" they asked. - -"Only relations; and they won't help me." - -"Of course not. Relations never do. Hope you'll get some work," said -the shorthand clerk dubiously. Katharine changed the conversation, to -hide her own growing apprehension. - -"Where are the newspapers?" she asked, looking round. - -"In the prospectus; never saw them anywhere else!" said Phyllis, with -a short laugh. - -"Did you expect to find any?" asked Polly Newland. "They all do," she -added gravely. "It's like the baths, and the boots, and everything -else." - -"Surely, the bath-room is not a fallacy?" exclaimed Katharine in -dismay. - -"Oh, there is one down in the basement; but all the water has to be -boiled for it, so only three people can have a bath every evening. You -have to put your name down in a book; and your turn comes in about a -fortnight." - -"And the boots?" said Katharine, suppressing a sigh. - -"You have to clean your own, that's all. They are supposed to provide -the blacking and the brushes; but, my eye, what brushes! Of course you -get used to it after a bit. When you get to your worst, you will -probably wear them dirty." - -"When does one get to one's worst?" asked Katharine. - -"That depends," said Polly Newland, sucking the end of her pencil, and -staring across in a curious manner at Katharine. "I should say you -would get to it pretty soon, if you stop long enough." - -"Of course I shall stop!" cried Katharine, a little impatiently. "Why -do you both say that?" - -The two girls glanced at one another. - -"You're not the sort," said Phyllis shortly; and Polly returned to her -arithmetic. - -Katharine relapsed into a dream. All her aspirations, all her hopes of -making her father a rich man, had only landed her in number ten, -Queen's Crescent, Marylebone! She looked round at the silent occupants -of the room,--some of them too tired to do anything but lounge about, -some of them reading novelettes, some of them mending stockings. She -wondered if her existence would simply become like theirs,--a daily -routine, with just enough money to support life, and not enough to buy -its pleasures; enough energy to get through its toil, and not enough -to enjoy its leisure. Ivingdon, with its recent troubles, its more -distant happiness, seemed separated from this rude moment of -disillusionment by a long stretch of years. A passionate instinct of -rebellion against the circumstances that were answerable for her -present situation made her unhappiness seem still more pitiable to -her; and a tragic picture of herself, martyred and forgotten, ten -years hence, brought sympathetic tears to her own eyes. - -A piano began a cheerful accompaniment in the next room, and some one -sang a ballad in a fresh, untrained soprano. The piano was out of -tune, and the song was of the cheapest and most popular nature; but it -made an interruption in the sound of the traffic outside on the -cobble-stones, and Katharine glanced round the room characteristically, -in search of an answering smile. But the other girls were as -unaffected by the music as they had been by the dreariness that -preceded it; and nobody looked up from what she was doing. Only one of -them made a comment; it was Phyllis Hyam. "How that girl does thump!" -she said. - -But on Katharine the effect had been instantaneous. She was not -cultured in music: with her it was an emotion, not an art; and the -little jingling tune had already turned her thoughts into a happier -channel. Her spirits rose insensibly, and the spell that the dingy -surroundings had cast over her was broken. Why should she believe what -these two girls told her? Surely, her conviction that she would make -something of her life was not going to wear itself out in a miserable -struggle to keep alive! She was worth something more than that: she -was intellectual beyond her years; every one had told her so, until -she had come to believe it was true; and her future was in her own -hands. She would be a teacher of a new school; she would make a name -for herself by her lectures; and then, some day, when she had acquired -a fortune, and all the world was talking of her talent, and her -goodness, and her beauty,--she was going to be very beautiful, too, in -her dream,--these girls would remember that they had doubted her -powers of endurance. She was even rehearsing what she would say to -them in the hour of her triumph, when a touch on her shoulder brought -her back abruptly to her present surroundings, and she looked up to -see a little white-haired lady at her side, in a lace cap and a black -silk apron. - -"Miss Austen? Come down with me, and let us have a little chat -together. I was sorry not to be back in time to receive you, my dear." - -It was a sudden awakening; but she was able to smile as she followed -her guide downstairs. - -"She has the captivating manner of an impostor," she reflected. "She -is just like Widow Priest! But it accounts for the prospectus." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The next day, she began a vigorous search for work. She did everything -that is generally done by women who come up from the country and -expect to find employment waiting for them; she answered -advertisements, she visited agents, she walked over the length and -breadth of London, she neglected no opportunity that seemed to offer -possibilities. But she soon found that she had much to learn. She -discovered that she was not the only girl in London, who thought there -was a future before her because she was more intellectually minded -than the rest of her family; and she found that every agent's office -was full of women, with more experience than herself, who had also -passed the Higher Local Examination with honours, and did not think -very much of it. And she had to learn that an apologetic manner is not -the best one to assume towards strangers, and that omnibus conductors -do not mean to be patronising when they say "missy," and that a -policeman is always open to the flattery of being addressed as -"Constable." But what she did not learn was the extravagance of being -economical; and it was some time yet before she discovered that -walking until she was over-tired, and fasting until she could not eat, -were the two most expensive things she could have done. - -But she found no work. Either there was none to be had, or she was too -young; or, as they sometimes implied, too attractive. When this last -objection was made to her by the elderly principal of a girl's school, -Katharine stared in complete bewilderment for a moment or two, and -then broke into an incredulous laugh. - -"But, surely, my looking young and--and inexperienced would not affect -my powers of teaching," she remonstrated. - -"It would prevent my taking you," replied the principal coldly. "I -must have some one about me whom I can trust, and leave safely with -the children. Besides, what do I know of your capabilities? You say -you have never even tried to teach?" - -"But I know I can teach,--I am certain of it; I only want a chance. -Why must I wait until I am old and unsympathetic, and can no longer -feel in touch with the children, before any one will trust me with a -class? It is not reasonable." - -The elderly principal remained unmoved. - -"The teaching market is overcrowded by such as you," she said. "I -should advise your trying something else." - -"I have not been trained to anything else," said Katharine. "That is -where it is so hard. I might have got a secretaryship, if I had known -shorthand. I never knew I should have to earn my own living, or I -should be better qualified to do it. But I know I can teach, if I get -the chance." - -"Are you compelled to earn your living?" asked the principal, a little -less indifferently. "Pardon me, but I have heard your tale so often -before from girls who might, with a little forbearance, have remained -at home." - -"I am compelled," answered Katharine. "At least--" - -A feeling of loyalty to her father, her lovable, faulty old father, -who was so unconscious of her present difficulties, kept her silent -and brought a troubled look into her face. The elderly principal was -not unkindly, when circumstances did not force her to be academic; and -Katharine, when she looked troubled, was very attractive indeed. - -"My dear," she said, with a severity that she assumed in order to -justify her weakness in her own mind, "what are your friends thinking -of? Go home; it is the right place for a child like you." - -Katharine hurried away to conceal her desire to laugh. She did not go -home, however; she went to a cheap milliner's in the Edgware Road, and -ordered them to make her a severely simple bonnet. And when it came -home the next evening, and she put it on, she hardly knew whether to -laugh or to cry at the reflection of herself in the glass. "Whatever -would daddy say?" she thought, and put it hastily back into the box; -and if the other occupants of her room had happened to come in just -then, they would certainly have modified their opinion of her pride -and her coldness. But, after all, she was no better off than before; -for the contrast of youth and age that her new bonnet made in her -appearance was rather conspicuous than otherwise, and she found that -her old countrified hat suited her purpose far better. - -She saw very little of Ted at this time. He asked her to come out with -him, once or twice, but she always refused. She was afraid that he -would ask questions, and she shrank from telling any one, even Ted, -of her failure to get on. On the few occasions that she went down to -speak to him in the hall, she told him that she was getting along -quite well, and would be sure to hear of some work very soon, and that -she would prefer not to come out with him because it unsettled her. -And Ted, in his humble-minded way, thought she had made new friends in -the house and did not care to be bothered with him; and Katharine, who -read him like a book, knew that he thought so, and made fresh efforts -to get on so that she could spend all her leisure time with him. She -wrote home in the same spirit, and said that she was sure of making -her way soon, and that, meanwhile, she had everything she wanted, and -nobody was to be anxious about her. And her father, with the quaint -unworldliness of his nature, wrote back that he was glad to hear she -was happy, and that he had no doubt the ten pounds he had given her -would last until she earned some more, and that he had just picked up -a perfect bargain in an old book shop for thirty shillings. - -"Dear daddy," smiled Katharine, without a trace of bitterness. "Could -any one be more economical for other people, and more extravagant for -himself? I wonder if that is what makes me love him so? But, oh, what -would I give for that thirty shillings!" - -She counted her little store for the twentieth time, and sat thinking. -Doubtless she had spent her money injudiciously at first; but the fact -remained that, if she went on at her present rate of expenditure, she -would have to return home in a fortnight. If she went without her -midday meal, and economised in every possible way, she might manage to -remain another month. - -"That is what I must do," she said. "That will bring me to the middle -of March, and I shall have been in London just nine weeks. And, after -all, the food is so nasty that I sha'n't mind much. Besides, it is -really very romantic to starve a little." - -It grew less romantic as another fortnight went by. The food had never -seemed less nasty than it did now; and she had to take long walks at -dinner time to escape the appetising smell of the hot dishes. She had -never realised before what a very healthy appetite she possessed; and -she remembered with some regret how she had been too dainty, at first, -to touch the food at all, and had lived for days almost entirely on -bread and butter. But now she would have eaten any of it with a -relish,--even a certain dish which was said to be stewed rabbit, but -which she had derisively termed "a cat in a pie dish." - -One day, she read an alluring advertisement of a new agency. She had -lost her faith in agencies, and she had no more money for fees; but at -least it was an object for a walk, and anything was better than -waiting indoors for something to happen. To be idle in a place like -Queen's Crescent was not an enviable position. And by this time she -knew her London pretty well, and it fascinated her, and spoke to her -of life, and work, and the future; and a walk through any part of it -was always exhilarating. As she turned into the park at the Marble -Arch, a carriage and pair rumbled out with two well-dressed women in -it. Katharine stopped and looked after it, with an amused smile on her -face. - -"My aunt and cousin," she murmured aloud. "What would they say, if -they knew? And once they came to stay with us, and they worried daddy -no end, and said I wanted finishing, and ought to go to Paris! It -seems to me that life is always a comedy, but sometimes it drops into -a roaring farce!" - -And pleased with the appositeness of her own remark, she continued her -walk in better spirits than her worldly condition would seem to -justify. The agency turned out to be on the top floor of some flats -near Parliament Street; and the porter looked curiously at her as he -took her up in the lift. - -"Agency, miss? So they says, I'm told. Don't believe in agencies much -myself, I don't; queerish kind of impostory places, I calls 'em. Don't -you let yourself be took in, missy!" - -Katharine remembered the condition of her purse, and felt that it was -not likely. Her destination was marked by a large amount of -information on the wall, headed by the inscription, "Parker's -Universal Scholastic and Commercial Agency." She had not much time to -study it, however, for an office boy hastened to answer her knock, as -though he had been longing for the opportunity to do so for some time, -and said that Mr. Parker was at liberty, if she would kindly step in. -She fancied that he also stared critically at her, and she began to -fear that something was wrong with her personal appearance. This -naturally did not add to her self-possession; and when she found -herself in a small inner room that smelt of stale tobacco and whiskey, -she began to wish she had not come at all. A fair-haired man, with a -moustache and an eyeglass, was sitting with his feet on the -mantel-shelf when she entered the room; but he jumped up with a great -deal of fuss, and offered her a chair, and asked her what he could do -for her. Katharine faltered out her usual inquiry for teaching work; -and the fact that Mr. Parker was adjusting his eyeglass and taking her -in from head to foot all the time, completed her discomfiture. - -"Teaching? To be sure," he said with a supercilious smile, and went at -once to the door and told the boy to bring the books. - -"There ain't no books, and you knows it," retorted the boy, who seemed -disposed to be rebellious; and Mr. Parker vanished precipitately into -the other room. When he returned, his smile was unaltered; and he sat -down again, and twirled his drooping moustache. - -"I have just looked through the books," he said, "and don't see -anything good enough for you. Would you care to take anything else?" - -"I don't quite know what else I could do," said Katharine doubtfully. -She wanted to get away, and did not exactly know how to make a -dignified exit. - -"Book-keeping, for instance, or literary work? Have you ever tried -being a secretary? Ah, I am sure you have! You are not the sort of -young lady to lead the life of a humdrum governess, eh?" - -"I was my father's secretary," said Katharine. Mr. Parker was leaning -across the table and playing with the pens in the ink-stand, so that -his hand almost touched her elbow. - -"Of course you were. So I was right about you, wasn't I? Don't you -think that was very clever of me, now?" - -He leaned a little nearer to her, and Katharine drew back -instinctively and took her elbow off the table. He found the straight -look of her eyes a little disconcerting, and left off playing with the -penholders. - -"Speaking seriously," he said, donning an official air with alacrity, -"would you care to take a post as secretary?" - -He had dropped his eyeglass and his supercilious manner, and Katharine -took courage. - -"I should, immensely. But they are so hard to get." - -"Of course they are not easy to pick up, but in an agency like ours we -often hear of something good. Let me see, would you like to go out to -South Africa? Hardly, I should think." - -Katharine said she would not like to go out to South Africa; -whereupon Mr. Parker offered New Zealand as an alternative. - -"Your connection seems to lie principally in other quarters of the -globe," Katharine felt obliged to remark; and in an unguarded moment -she began to laugh at the absurdity of his suggestions. Mr. Parker at -once ceased to look official, and laughed with her, and began playing -with the pens in the inkstand again. - -"Ah, now we understand each other better," he said, resuming his -familiar tone. "What you want is a snug little berth with some -literary boss, who won't give you too much to do, eh? A nice salary, -and some one charming to play with; isn't that it?" - -The sheer vulgarity of the man exposed the real nature of the -situation to her. Her first impulse was to rush out of his sight, at -any cost; but she restrained herself with an effort, and drew a sharp -breath to gain time to collect her resources. - -"I am afraid, Mr. Parker, that we don't understand each other at all," -she said very slowly, trying to conceal the tremble in her voice; "and -as I don't feel inclined to emigrate, I think I had better--" - -"Now, now, what a hurry you are in, to be sure!" interrupted Mr. -Parker, getting up and lounging round to her side of the table. "You -haven't even heard what I was going to say. I've been looking out for -a secretary myself, for some time, 'pon my oath I have; but never, -until this blessed moment, have I set eyes upon a young lady who -suited me so well as you. Now, what do you say to that, eh?" - -Katharine had risen, too, and was turning imperceptibly towards the -door. She glanced contemptuously round the room, that was so entirely -devoid of the ordinary apparatus of business, and she walked swiftly -to the door and opened it, before he had time to prevent her. - -"You are most kind," she said sarcastically, emboldened by the -presence of the office boy, "but I feel that the work would be very -much too hard for me. A large business like yours must need so much -looking after! Good morning." - -Outside, while she was waiting for the lift, her composure completely -deserted her, and she found she was trembling all over, and had to -lean against the balusters for support. - -"I knowed you wasn't the sort to go a-mixing of yourself up with that -kidney," observed the porter, who detected the tears in her eyes. - -"Why didn't you tell me he was such a horrid man?" asked Katharine. -She was thoroughly unnerved, and even the porter's sympathy was better -than none at all. - -"It wasn't my business to hinterfere," said the porter, who was merely -curious and not sympathetic at all; and Katharine dried her eyes -hastily, and tried to laugh. - -"Of course it is nobody's business," she said drearily, and gave him -twopence for helping her to realise the fact. "And I shouldn't have -cried at all, if I had had any lunch," she added vehemently to -herself. - -Some one was waiting to enter the lift as she stepped out of it. She -looked up by chance and caught his eye, and they uttered each other's -name in the same breath. - -For a moment they stood silent, as they loosed hands again. Katharine -had blushed, hopelessly and irretrievably; but he was standing a -little away from her, with just the necessary amount of interest in -his look, and the necessary amount of pleasure in his smile. Paul was -a man who prided himself on never straining a situation; and directly -he saw her agitation at meeting him, he assumed the conventional -attitude, entirely for purposes of convenience. - -"This is very delightful. Are you staying in town?" - -"Yes. At least--" - -"Your father well, I hope? And Miss Esther? I am charmed to hear it. -Supposing we move out of the draught; yes, cold, isn't it? Thanks, I -won't go up now--" this to the porter, who was still waiting by the -lift. "Which way are you going? Good! I have a call to pay in -Gloucester Place, and we might go in the same cab." - -It was pleasant to be ordered about, after taking care of herself for -seven weeks, and Katharine yielded at once to the masterful tone, -which had always compelled her compliance from the moment she had -first heard it. - -"Now, please, I want to hear all about it," he began briskly, as they -drove westwards. His manner was no longer conventional, and his -familiar voice carried her back over the weary months of last year to -the spring when she had still been a child. Somehow she did not feel, -as with Ted, that she could not tell him about her failures: it seemed -as though this man must know all there was to know about her, whether -it was pleasant for him to hear it or not; though, as she told him -about her coming to town and her subsequent career there, she made -her tale so entertaining that Paul was something more than idly -amused, when she finally brought it to an end. - -"Do you think I ought not to have done it?" she asked him, anxiously, -as he did not speak. He looked at her before he answered. - -"I cannot imagine how they let you do it!" - -"Oh, don't! That is what that horrid old lady principal said. What -could possibly happen to me, I should like to know?" - -He looked at her again, with his provoking serenity. - -"Oh, nothing, of course! At least, not to you." - -"Why not to me, particularly?" she asked half petulantly. She did not -know whether to be pleased or annoyed that he should credit her with -the same infallible quality as every one else. - -"Because things of that nature do not, I believe, happen to girls of -your nature. But of course I may be wrong; I am quite ignorant in -these matters." - -She smiled at his show of humility; it was so characteristic of him to -affect indifference about his own opinions. But she had learnt -something already that day, and she remembered Mr. Parker, and thought -that Paul very possibly was wrong on this occasion. - -"Every one tells me that. I can't see how I am different," she said -thoughtfully. - -"I shouldn't worry about it, if I were you. You could not be expected -to see. But it is just that little difference that has probably -carried you through." - -Katharine remembered Mr. Parker again, and laughed outright. - -"I don't think so," she said. "I think it is more likely to have been -my sense of humour." - -"You used to laugh like that when I first knew you," he said -involuntarily. She knew that he had spoken without reflection, and she -laughed again with pleasure. It was always a triumph to surprise him -into spontaneity. - -"How jolly it was in those days! Do you remember our tea in the -orchard, how we watched Aunt Esther out of the front door, and then -brought the things out through the back door?" - -"Yes; and how you spilt the milk, and cook wouldn't let you have any -more, and our second cups were spoilt?" - -"Rather! And how you shocked Dorcas--" - -"Ah," sighed Paul; "we can never do those delightful things again. We -know one another too well, now." - -They allowed themselves to become almost depressed, for the space of -a moment, because they knew one another so well. "All the same," -observed Katharine, "there is still one joy left to us. We can -quarrel." - -He became conventional again as he rang the bell for her at number -ten, Queen's Crescent, Marylebone. He raised his hat, and gently -pressed her hand, and supposed he should see her again soon. And -Katharine, who was occupied in hoping that he did not notice the -squalor of the area, and would not come inside the dull, distempered -hall, only said that she supposed so too; and then blamed herself -hotly, as he drove away, for not responding more warmly. - -"He will think I don't want to see him again," she thought wearily, as -she dragged herself up the uncarpeted stairs, and went into her dark -and dingy cubicle. It had never seemed so dark or so dingy before; and -she added miserably to herself, "I had better not see him again, -perhaps. It makes it all so much worse afterwards." - -She would have been surprised had she known what Paul really was -thinking about her. - -"She is more of a study than ever," he said to the cab horse. "Still -so much of the innocent pose about her, with just that indication of -added knowledge that is so fascinating to a man. She'll do, now she -has got away from her depressing relations; and the touch of weirdness -in her expression is an improvement. Wonder if Heaton would call her a -schoolgirl now? It was quite finished, the careless way she said -good-bye, as though it were of no consequence to her at all. Yes; she -is a study." - -About a week later, when Katharine came down to breakfast, Phyllis -Hyam threw her a letter, in her unceremonious fashion. - -"Look here!" she said. "I've kept you a chair next to mine, and I've -managed to procure you a clean plate, too; so don't go away to the -other table, as you did yesterday. Polly's gone; and I won't talk -unless you want to. Come on!" - -Katharine sat down absently on the hard wooden chair, and began to -read her letter. She never wanted to talk at breakfast time, a fact -which Phyllis good-naturedly recognised without respecting. To-day she -was more silent than usual. - -"No, I can't eat any of that stuff," she said to the proffered bacon. -"Get me some tea, will you? I'll make myself some toast." - -Phyllis trotted off to the fire instead, and made it herself; and -Katharine returned to her letter without noticing her further. Judging -from the tense look on her face, it was of more than ordinary -interest. - -"Dear Miss Katharine," it ran, - - A school in which I have a little influence is in want of a - junior mistress. I have no idea as to the kind of work you - want, but if it is of this nature, and you would like to - consider it further, come up and see me about it in my - chambers. I shall be in at tea-time, any afternoon this week. - The best way for you to get here is to come to the Temple - Station. Do not think any more about it, if you have already - heard of something else. - - Yours sincerely, - - PAUL WILTON. - -"Of course," said Katharine aloud, "I shall go this very afternoon." -Then she paused, and looked smilingly into Phyllis Hyam's hot face. -"No; I mean to-morrow." - -"What?" said Phyllis, looking perplexed. "I thought you wanted it now, -and I made it on purpose." - -"You dear thing! of course I want it now. You are an angel of -goodness, and I am a cross old bear," exclaimed Katharine, with a -burst of unusual cordiality; and Phyllis was consumed with curiosity -as to the writer of that letter. - -It was not difficult to find Paul Wilton's chambers among the quaint -old buildings of Essex Court; and Katharine, as she toiled up the -massive oak staircase, stopping on every landing to read the names -over the doors, felt that she had reached a delightful oasis of -learning in the middle of commercial London. - -"How splendid to be a man, and to have brains enough to live in a -place like this," she thought enthusiastically; and then, with the -cynicism that always dogged the steps of her enthusiasm, she added, -"It probably only wants money enough, though." - -Paul Wilton opened his own door to her. He looked really glad to see -her, and Katharine flushed with pleasure when he kept hold of her hand -and drew her into his room. - -"This is most good of you," he said; and on the impulse of the moment -Katharine let herself be surprised into an indiscretion. - -"I was so glad to have your letter; I wanted to see you again -dreadfully," she said, without reflection. She meant what she said, -but she saw from his manner that she ought not to have said it. Any -sentiment that was crudely expressed was always distasteful to him; -and he at once dropped her hand, and pulled forward an arm-chair with -a great show of courtesy. - -"Is that comfortable, or do you prefer a high one? I thought you might -come, one day; but I hardly expected you so soon. It is rather wet, -too, isn't it?" - -Something impelled her to meet his irritating self-assurance with -ridicule. - -"Very wet," she replied demurely. "In fact, now I come to think of it, -there are a great many reasons why I should not have come. But the one -that brought me here, in spite of them all, was a matter of business, -if you remember." - -If he minded being laughed at, he certainly did not show it, for his -tone was much more natural when he answered her. - -"Oh, yes, about the school! It is not far from you,--near Paddington, -in fact. It is rather a swagger place, I believe; Mrs. Downing is the -widow of an old friend of mine, who was killed out in Africa, and she -started this concern after his death. She knows nothing about -education, but a great deal about etiquette, and as this is also the -position of the mothers of most of her pupils, she has no difficulty -in convincing them of her capabilities. She is quite flourishing now, -I believe. Can you teach arithmetic?" - -They discussed the vacant appointment solemnly, with the result that -Katharine agreed to accept it if Mrs. Downing approved of her. The -salary was not large, but she had learnt by now not to be too -particular, and it offered her an opening, at all events. - -"I am sure she will like you all right. I told her about your people, -and so on, and a clergyman is always a guarantee in such cases. And -now for tea." - -They talked about the historic associations of the Temple while the -housekeeper was bringing in tea; and they talked very little about -anything after she had left. Paul was in one of his unaccountable -silent moods, and they were never conducive to conversation. He roused -himself a little to show her some of his treasures,--an old bit of -tapestry, some Japanese prints, a Bartolozzi; but the afternoon was -not a success, and his depression soon communicated itself to -Katharine. - -"I must be going," she said at last, after an awkward pause that he -showed no signs of breaking. They stood for a moment in the middle of -the room. - -"It was good of you to come like this," he said, with the slightly -worried look he always wore in his morose moods. "I was afraid, -perhaps, that I ought not to have asked you." - -Her questioning look invited him to continue. - -"Not being sure what day you would come, I was unable to provide a -chaperon, don't you see? But, of course, if you don't mind, that -doesn't matter." - -"Of course I don't mind," she said, with a reassuring smile. "Why -should I? I know you so well, don't I?" - -He continued his explanation, as though he had decided to make it -beforehand, and did not mean to be deterred by her unwillingness to -hear it. - -"Under the circumstances," he said gravely, "you will see that it -would be wiser for you not to come here again." - -Katharine did not see, and she showed it in her face. - -"If I were married," he continued, in a lighter tone, "it would be -different; but there are many reasons which have made it impossible -for me to marry, and there are still more now, which will prevent my -ever doing so. And since I am a bachelor, it is obviously better for -you to keep away." - -In spite of his assumed carelessness, Katharine felt instinctively -that it was to hear this that he had asked her to come and see him -to-day. And, like many another woman who has to face as embarrassing a -disclosure from a man, her great desire at the moment was to conceal -that she had ever entertained the idea of his marrying her at all. - -"But does it matter, so long as I don't mind?" she asked, pulling on -her gloves for the sake of the occupation. He bent down to button them -for her, and their eyes met. "Let me come again," she said -impulsively. "You know I think propriety is all rubbish. Besides, I -want to come. We can go on being friends, can't we? _I_ don't care -what other people think!" - -"I only care for your sake, not for my own. No, child, it is safer -not; you are not the sort. Don't think any more about it. I am old -enough to be your father, and have seen more of the world than you. I -would not allow you, if you did wish it." - -"It is all rubbish," repeated Katharine. "Why am I not the sort? I -don't understand; I am tired of being told that. If that is all, I--I -wish I were!" - -Paul half wished it too, as she stood there in the firelight, with -the glow all over her face and hair; but he laughed away the thought. - -"You are an absurd child; you don't know what you are saying. It is -lucky there is no one else to hear you. There, go away, and make it up -with young Morton! Oh, no, I know nothing whatever about it, I swear I -don't; but he won't do you any harm, and he isn't old, and worn out, -and--" - -"Don't, please don't!" said Katharine, imploringly. "Ted is only like -my brother; I love him, but it is altogether different. Mayn't I -really see you any more?" - -She was threatening to become unpleasantly serious, and Paul switched -on the electric light and fetched his coat hastily. - -"Why, surely, lots of times, I expect. What a desperately solemn -person you are! I believe you work too hard, don't you? Now, I am not -going to let you walk to the station alone, so come along." - -And Katharine realised, with a hot blush, that she had made a second -blunder. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The lady principal of the school near Paddington had too high an -opinion of her distinguished and influential friend, Mr. Wilton, to -refuse a teacher who was so warmly recommended by him, more especially -as her junior mistress had left her most inconveniently in the middle -of term; so Katharine found herself installed there, about three weeks -before the Easter holidays, with a class of thirty children in her -sole charge. The teaching was only elementary, but there was plenty to -be done; and she soon found that, although she was ostensibly only -wanted in the mornings, she had to spend most of her afternoons also -in correcting exercises. But the work interested her, and she had no -difficulty in managing the children,--a fact which surprised her as -much as it did Mrs. Downing, who had expected very little from her -youthful looking teacher, in spite of her recommendation by Mr. -Wilton. Mrs. Downing was a well-dressed little woman, with charming -manners and an unbounded belief in herself. By resolutely playing on -the weaknesses of others, she concealed her own shallowness of mind; -and she made up for her lack of brains by contriving to have clever -people always about her. She had chatted herself into a fashionable -and paying connection in that part of Bayswater which calls itself -Hyde Park; and if she employed tact and dissimulation in order to -entrap the mothers of the neighbourhood, she was, to do her justice, -genuine in her love of their children. Katharine would have found it -difficult to like such a woman, had not a two months' sojourn with -working gentlewomen taught her to tolerate weaknesses which would -formerly have excited her contempt; and she endured her smiles and her -blandishments with a stoicism that arose from a knowledge of their -harmlessness. But Mrs. Downing remained in ignorance of the fact that -her youngest teacher, with the serious face and the childish manner, -was able to see right through her; and the impenetrability which saved -her from feeling a snub, also spared her the knowledge that Katharine -was laughing at her. - -One morning, about a week after she had begun her work as junior -teacher, Katharine was interrupted in the middle of her first lesson -by the precipitate entrance of the lady principal. - -"My dear Miss Austen," she began effusively, and then paused suddenly; -for there was something about Katharine, in spite of her youthful -look, which warned intruders that she was not to be interrupted so -lightly as the other teachers. On this occasion she finished -explaining to the children that saying Mary Howard was "_in_ the -second piano" did not accurately express the fact that Mary Howard was -practising in the second music-room; and then turned to see who had -come in. - -"My dear Miss Austen," began Mrs. Downing again, "so good of you to -look after their English; they are apt to be so careless! I am always -telling them of it myself, am I not, dear children? Ah, Carry, what an -exquisite rose; such colouring; beautiful, beautiful! For me? Thanks, -my sweet child; that is so dear of you! My dear Miss Austen, you are -so obliging always, and my literature lecturer has suddenly -disappointed me, and the first class will have nothing to do in the -next hour. So tiresome of Mr. Fletcher! His wife is ill, and he is -such a good husband,--quite a model! So I have set them an essay; I -cannot _bear_ to have the ordinary work interrupted; and would you be -so good as to leave the door open between the two rooms, and give them -a little, just a little supervision? That is so dear of you; it has -taken a load off my mind. Dear children, listen with all your might to -everything Miss Austen has to say, and you will soon be so clever and -so wise--I beg your pardon, Miss Austen?" - -"Isn't it rather a pity for them to miss their lecture altogether?" -said Katharine, in the first breathing space. "I mean, I could give -them one if you liked, on something else. My class is being drilled in -the next hour, and I have nothing particular to do." - -"But I should be charmed, delighted; nothing could be more opportune! -My dear Miss Austen, I have found a treasure in you. Children, you -must make the most of your teacher while she is with you, for I shall -have to take her away from you, quite soon! Miss Austen, I shall come -and listen to your lecture myself. I will go and prepare the girls--" - -"I think, perhaps, something quite different would be best," said -Katharine, detaining her with difficulty. "Would you like it to be on -Gothic architecture?" - -Mrs. Downing did not know the difference between a pinnacle and a -buttress, but she hastened to say she would like Gothic architecture -better than anything else in the world, and had, in fact, been on the -point of suggesting it herself; after which, she went to interrupt the -first class also, and Katharine devoted her energies to collecting the -wandering attention of her own pupils. - -At the end of her lecture the lady principal hastened up to her. - -"How extremely interesting, to be sure! I had no idea those vaults, -and pillars, and things, were so beautiful before. Where did you find -out all that? I should like to learn it up myself in the holidays, and -give a course of lessons on it to the first class next term." - -Katharine tried not to smile. - -"I have been learning it all my life, from my father. I don't think I -know any textbooks; it would be difficult to read it up in a hurry, I -should think." But the lady principal never allowed herself to be -thwarted, when she had a fresh idea. Besides, Gothic architecture was -quite new, and would be sure to take in the neighbourhood. - -"Then you must give a course yourself to the whole school, my dear -Miss Austen," she exclaimed. "I insist upon it; and we will begin the -first Wednesday of next term." - -Anything that promised an addition to her salary was sure to be -agreeable to Katharine, and she was only too pleased to agree. But, -meanwhile, her finances were in a deplorable condition. She found -herself with nothing but the change out of half a sovereign, about ten -days before the end of the term; and although she could easily have -asked Miss Jennings to give her credit until she received her salary, -she had all a woman's hyper-sensitiveness of conscience, and all her -disregard of the importance of food as well; and she resolutely set to -work to starve herself during those ten days. Fortunately, she was -constitutionally strong, and she never reached the stage of privation -when food becomes distasteful; but there was little consolation for -her in the fact that she remained healthily hungry all the time, and -had to run past the pastry-cooks' shops to escape their seductive -display. Long walks at supper time did not compensate for a meal that -was satisfying, if it was not very tempting; and the irony of it all -was forced upon her with a somewhat grim significance by something -that occurred, when she came up to bed one evening, tired out and -dispirited. She noticed that the girls stopped talking directly she -entered the room; but this would not have aroused her suspicions, if -Phyllis Hyam had not made a point of conversing vigorously with her -through the curtains, and being more brusque than usual when the -others tried to interrupt her. - -"Good old Phyllis," reflected Katharine. "They have evidently been -abusing me. I wonder what I have done!" - -Phyllis enlightened her somewhat unwillingly, the next morning, when -the others had gone down to breakfast. - -"Don't bother about them; _I_ wouldn't. Mean cats! It's jealousy, of -course. Fact is, Polly saw you in a hansom with a man, some time back; -she came home full of it. Said you were no better than the rest of us, -after all. I said you never pretended to be; it was our own look out, -if we chose to think so. Besides, it was most likely your brother, I -said. Polly said it wasn't; you looked so happy, and he was smiling at -you." - -"Conclusive evidence," murmured Katharine, with her mouth full of -hair-pins. "Did she describe the gentleman in question? It might be -useful for future identification." - -"Oh, yes, she did! Said he was rather like a corpse with a black -beard; had a flavour of dead loves about him, I think she said; but I -don't quite know what she was driving at. And I'm sure I don't care." - -"I do. It is most entertaining. Was that all they said?" - -Phyllis hesitated, said she was not going to tell any more, and -finally told every detail. - -"I said they were mean, despicable liars, especially Polly, -considering how much you have done for her! And I said that if ever I -had the chance--" - -"But what did _they_ say?" interrupted Katharine. - -"Oh, bother! what does it matter? They are a pack of mean sneaks. They -said you were never in to lunch now, or supper either; and Polly was -sure she had seen you walking with some one, only yesterday evening, -and that you went into a restaurant with him; and she declares you see -him every day, and that you are going all wrong. I said I should like -to kill her. And they all said you must have gone wrong, because you -are never in to supper now. I said I should like to kill them all for -telling such a false lie, whether it was true or not! It isn't their -business whether you choose to come in to supper or not, is it? And -then you came in, and-- Why, whatever is the joke now? Mercy me; I -thought you would be furious!" - -For, of course, it was not to be supposed that she should know why -Katharine was rolling on her bed in a paroxysm of laughter. - -But the holidays came at last, and she congratulated herself proudly -on not having given in once. She left school on the last day of the -term with a light heart; everything had made her laugh that morning, -from the children's jubilation at the coming holiday, to Mrs. -Downing's characteristic farewell. "Don't overwork in the holidays, my -dear Miss Austen," she had said, shaking Katharine warmly by both -hands. "You look quite worn out; I am afraid you take things a little -too seriously, do you not? When you have had _my_ experience in school -work, you will think nothing of a class like yours! Perhaps you do not -eat enough? Take my advice, and try maltine; it is an excellent tonic -for the appetite!" And Katharine walked out into the sunshine and the -warm air, with a feeling of joy at the thought of the cheque she was -to receive on the morrow. There was only one more day of privation for -her; and she called herself greedy for thinking about it, and laughed -at her own greediness, all in the same breath. She might easily have -humbled her pride and gone home to lunch like a rational being, now -that she saw her way to paying for it; but such a weakness as that -never entered her head for a moment, and she walked gaily on instead, -weaving a rosy dream of the feast she would have if her pocket were -full of money. But it was nearly empty, and she only found twopence -there when she put her hand in to feel; and she jingled the coppers -together, and laughed again, and hurried on a little faster. At Hyde -Park Corner a beggar pursued her with his studied tale of distress: he -had no home, he whined, and he had eaten nothing for days. "Just my -case," said Katharine cheerfully, and a spirit of recklessness -impelled her to drop the two pennies into his grimy palm, and then -hasten on as before. - -"Well met," said a voice behind her. "But what a hurry you are in, to -be sure! Where are you off to, now?" - -She looked round and saw Paul Wilton, smiling unaffectedly at her in a -way that recalled the old days at Ivingdon. Perhaps, the fine day had -influenced him too; certainly, he had not been starving for a -fortnight, nor would he have seen the humour of it, probably, if he -had. But these reflections did not occur to Katharine; it was enough -for her that he looked more pleased than usual, and that his manner -had lost its constraint. - -"I am not going anywhere. The spring has got into my head, that's all; -and I felt obliged to walk. Besides, it is the first day of my first -holidays!" and she laughed out joyously. - -"Yes? You look very jolly over it, any way. Have you lunched yet?" - -"Yes,--I mean, no. I don't want any lunch to-day," she said hastily. -"Don't let us talk about lunch; it spoils it so." - -"But, my dear child, I really must talk about it. I have had nothing -to eat since supper last night, and I am going to have some lunch now. -You've got to come along, too, so don't make any more objections. I'm -not a healthy young woman like you, and I can't eat my three courses -at breakfast, and then fast until it is time to spoil my digestion by -afternoon tea. Where shall we go? Suppose you stop chuckling for a -moment and make a suggestion." - -"But I don't know any places, and I don't really want anything to -eat," protested Katharine. She would not have been so independent, if -she had been a little less hungry. "There's a confectioner's along -here, that always looks rather nice," she added, remembering one she -had often passed lately with a lingering look, at its attractive -contents. - -"Nonsense! that's only a shop. Have you ever been in here?" - -Katharine confessed that she had never lunched at a restaurant before; -and the savoury smell that greeted them as they entered reminded her -how very hungry she was, and drove away her last impulse to object. - -"Never? Why, what has Ted been up to? Now, you have got to say what -you like; this is your merrymaking, you know, because it is the first -day of the holidays." - -"Oh, but I can't; you must do all that, _please_. You don't know how -beautiful it is to be taken care of again." - -"Is it?" They smiled at each other across the little table, and the -old understanding sprang up between them. - -"You're looking very charming," he said, when he had given the waiter -his preliminary instructions. "You may abuse the food at your place as -much as you like, but it certainly seems to agree with you." - -"I don't think," said Katharine carelessly, "that it has anything to -do with the food." - -"Of course not; my mistake. No doubt it is natural charm triumphing -over difficulties. Try some of this, to begin with; bootlaces or -sardines?" - -Katharine looked perplexed. - -"What a delightful child you are," he laughed. "It's to give you an -appetite for the rest. I advise the bootlaces. Nonsense! you must do -as you are told, for a change. I am not one of your pupils. Besides, -it is the first day of the holidays." - -And Katharine, who had no desire for a larger appetite than she -already possessed, ate the _hors d'oeuvre_ with a relish, and longed -for more, and wondered if she should ever attain to the extreme -culture of her companion, who was playing delicately with the sardine -on his plate. - -"Don't you ever feel hungry?" she asked him. "It seems to add to your -isolation that you have none of the ordinary frailties of the flesh. I -really believe it would quite destroy my illusion of you, if I ever -caught you enjoying a penny bun!" - -"You may preserve the illusion, if you like, and remember that I am -not a woman. It is only women who-- Well, what is it now, child?" - -"Do explain this," she begged him, with a comical expression of -dismay. "Why is it red?" - -"I should say because, fundamentally, it is red mullet. It would never -occur to me to inquire more deeply into it; but the rest is probably -accounted for by the carte, if you understand French. Don't you think -you had better approach it, fasting and with faith?" - -"Go on about your appetite, please; it is so awfully entertaining," -resumed Katharine. "I believe, if you found yourself really hungry one -day, force of habit would still make you eat your lunch as though you -didn't want it a bit. Now, wouldn't it?" - -"My dear Miss Katharine, you have yet to learn that hunger does not -give you a desire for more food, but merely imparts an element of -pleasure to it. Go on with your fish, or else the entrée will catch -you up." - -"I am glad," said Katharine, in the interval between the courses, -"that I'm not a superior person like you. It must be so lonely, isn't -it?" - -"What wine will you drink? White or red?" asked Paul severely. - -"Living with you," continued Katharine, leaning back and looking -mischievously at what was visible of him over the wine list, "must be -exactly like living with Providence." - -"Number five," said Paul to the waiter, laying down the wine list. -Then he looked at her, and shook his head reprovingly. - -"You see you don't live with me, do you?" he said drily. - -"No," retorted Katharine hastily. "I live with sixty-three working -gentlewomen, and that is a very different matter." - -"Very," he assented, looking so searchingly at her that she found -herself beginning to blush. The arrival of the wine made a diversion. - -"Oh," said Katharine, "I am quite sure I can't drink any champagne." - -"If you had not been so occupied in firing off epigrams, you might -have had some choice in the matter. As it is, you have got to do as -you are told." - -He filled her glass, and she felt that it was very pleasant to do as -she was told by him; and her eyes glistened as they met his over the -brimming glasses. - -"I am so happy to-day," she felt obliged to tell him. - -"That's right. Because it is the first day of the holidays?" - -"Because you are so nice to me, I think," she replied softly; and then -was afraid lest she had said too much. But he nodded, and seemed to -understand; and she dropped her eyes suddenly and began crumbling her -bread. - -"What makes you so nice to me, I wonder," she continued in the same -tone. This time he became matter-of-fact. - -"The natural order of the universe, I suppose. Man was created to look -after woman, and woman to look after man; don't you think so?" - -She understood him well enough, by now, to know when to take her tone -from him. - -"At all events, it saves Providence a lot of trouble," she said; and -they laughed together. - -Their lunch was a success; and Paul smiled at her woe-begone face when -the black coffee had been brought, and she was beginning slowly to -remember that there was still such a place as number ten, Queen's -Crescent, and that it actually existed in the same metropolis as the -one that contained this superb restaurant. - -"It is nearly over, and it has been so beautiful," she sighed. - -"Nonsense! it has only just begun. It isn't time to be dull yet; I'll -tell you when it is," said Paul briskly; and he called for a daily -paper. - -"What do you mean?" gasped Katharine, opening her eyes wide in -anticipation of new joys to come. - -"We're going to a matinee, of course. Let's see,--have you any -choice?" - -"A theatre? Oh!" cried Katharine. Then she reddened a little. "You -won't laugh if I tell you something?" - -"Tell away, you most childish of children!" - -"I've never been to a theatre before, either." - -They looked at the paper together, and laughed one another's -suggestions to scorn, and then found they had only just time to get to -the theatre before it began. And she sat through the three acts with -her hand lying in his; and to her it was a perfect ending to the most -perfect day in her life. He took her home afterwards, and left her at -the corner of the street. - -"I won't come to the door; better not, perhaps," he said, and his -words sent a sudden feeling of chill through her. They seemed to have -fallen back into the conventional attitude again, the most appropriate -one, probably, for Edgware Road, but none the less depressing on that -account. - -"You are not going to be sad, now?" he added, half guessing her -thoughts. She looked up in his face and made an effort to be bright. - -"It has been beautiful all the time," she said. "I never knew anything -could be so beautiful before." - -"Ah," he said, smiling back; "it is the first day of your first -holidays, you see. We will do it again some day." But she knew as he -spoke that they never could do it again. - -She saw him occasionally during the Easter holidays. He sent for her -once about a pupil he had managed to procure her, and once about some -drawing-room lectures he tried to arrange for her, and which fell -through. But on both these occasions he was in his silent mood, and -she came away infected by his dulness. Then she met him one day in the -neighbourhood of Queen's Crescent, and they had a few minutes -conversation in the noise and bustle of the street, that left her far -happier than she had been after a tête-à-tête in his chambers. - -She went home for a few days at the end of her holidays, but her visit -was not altogether a success. It was a shock to her to find that home -was no longer the same now that she had once left it; and she did not -quite realise that the change was in herself as much as in those she -had left behind her. Her father had grown accustomed to living without -her, and it hurt her pride to find that she was no longer -indispensable to him. Her old occupations seemed gone, and there was -no time to substitute new ones; she told herself bitterly that she had -no place in her own home, and that she had burnt her ships when she -went out to make herself a new place in the world. Ivingdon seemed -narrower in its sympathies and duller than ever; she wondered how -people could go on living with so few ideas in their minds, and so few -topics of conversation; even the Rector irritated her by his want of -interest in her experiences and by his utter absorption in his own -concerns. Miss Esther added to her feeling of strangeness by treating -her with elaborate consideration; she would have given anything to be -scolded instead, for being profane, or for lying on the hearthrug. But -they persisted in regarding her as a child no longer; and she felt -graver and more responsible at home, than she had done all the time -she was working for her living in London. - -On the whole, she was glad when school began again; and she grew much -happier when she found herself once more engrossed in the term's work, -which had now increased very materially, owing to her own efforts as -well as to those of Paul. Of him, she only had occasional glimpses -during the next few weeks; but they were enough to keep their -friendship warm, and she soon found herself scribbling little notes to -him, when she had anything to tell,--generally about some small -success of hers which she felt obliged to confide to some one, and -liked best of all to confide to him. Sometimes he did not answer them; -and she sighed, and took the hint to write no more for a time. And -sometimes he wrote back one of his ceremonious replies, which she had -learnt to welcome as the most characteristic thing he could have sent -her; for, in his letters, Paul never lost his formality. It was a very -satisfactory friendship on both sides, with enough familiarity to give -it warmth, and not enough to make it disquieting. But it received an -unexpected check towards the middle of June, through an incident that -was slight enough in itself, though sufficient to set both of them -thinking. And to stop and think in the course of a friendship, -especially when it is between a man and a woman, is generally the -forerunner of a misunderstanding. - -It was the first hot weather that year. May had been disappointingly -cold and wet, after the promise of the month before, but June came in -with a burst of sunshine that lasted long enough to justify the papers -in talking about the drought. On one of the first fine days, Paul was -lazily smoking in his arm-chair after a late breakfast, when a knock -at his outer door roused him unpleasantly from a reverie that had -threatened to become a nap; and he rose slowly to his feet with -something like a muttered imprecation. Then he remembered that he had -left the door open for the sake of the draught, and he shouted a brief -"Come in," and sank back again into his chair. A light step crossed -the threshold, and paused close behind him. - -"Who's there?" asked Paul, without moving. - -"Well, you _are_ cross. And on a morning like this, too!" - -Paul got up again, with rather more than his usual show of energy, and -turned and stared at his visitor. - -"Really, Katharine," he said, with a slowly dawning smile of -amusement. - -"Oh, I know all that," exclaimed Katharine, with an impatient gesture. -"But the sun was shining, and I had to come, and you'll have to put up -with it." - -Paul looked as though he should have no difficulty in putting up with -it; and he went outside, and sported his oak. - -"Won't you sit down, and tell me why you have come?" he suggested, -when he came back again. Katharine dropped into a chair, and laughed. - -"How can you ask? Why, it is my half-term holiday; and the sun's -shining. Look!" - -"I believe it is, yes," he said, glancing towards the gently flapping -blind. "Has that got anything to do with it?" - -"Of course it has. I believe, I do believe you never would have known -it was a fine day at all, if I had not come to see you!" - -"I can hardly believe that you did come to see me for the purpose of -telling me it was a fine day," said Paul. - -Katharine leaned over the back of her chair, and nodded at him. - -"Guess why I did come," she said. He shook his head lazily. She -imparted the rest of her news in little instalments, to give it more -emphasis. "It's my half-term holiday," she said again, and paused to -watch the effect of her words. - -"I think I heard you say that before," he observed. - -"And I'm going into the country for the whole day." - -"Yes?" said Paul, who did not seem impressed. - -"And I want you to come too. There! don't you think it was worth a -visit?" Her laugh rang out, and filled the little room. Paul was -stroking his beard reflectively, but he did not seem vexed. - -"Really, Katharine," he said once more. - -"Oh, now, don't be musty," she pleaded, resting her chin on her hands. -"I just want to do something jolly to-day; and I've never asked you -anything before, have I? Do, _please_, Mr. Wilton. I won't bother you -again for ever so long; I promise you I won't." - -"Are you aware," said Paul, frowning, "that it is not customary to -come and visit a man in his chambers in this uninvited manner?" - -"You know quite well," retorted Katharine, "that nothing ever matters, -if I do it." - -"Of course I know that you are beyond the taint of scandal, or the--" - -She started up impatiently, and came over to the side of his -arm-chair. - -"Don't begin to be sarcastic. I never can think of the word I want, -when you get sarcastic. I am not beyond anything, and I am certainly -not above asking you a favour. Now, if you were to stop being superior -for a few minutes--" - -"And if you were to stop standing on one leg, and swinging the other -about in that juvenile manner, a catastrophe might be--" - -She seized a cushion and tried to smother him with it; but he was too -quick for her, and the cushion went spinning to the other end of the -room, and she found herself pulled on to his knee. - -"You dreadful child! It is too hot, and I am too old for romping in -this fashion," he observed lazily. - -"Are you coming?" she asked abruptly. She was playing with his watch -chain, and he did not quite know what to make of her face. - -"Do you want me to?" he asked gently. - -"Of course I do," she said, in a swift little whisper; and her fingers -strayed up to his scarf pin, and touched his beard. - -"I am being dreadfully improper," she said. - -"You are being very nice," he replied, and weakly kissed her fingers. -She did not move, and he gave her a little shake. - -"What a solemn child you are," he complained. "It is impossible to -play with you, because you always take one so seriously." - -"I know," said Katharine, rousing herself and looking penitent. "I am -so sorry! I am made that way, I think. It used to annoy Ted. I think -it is because I never had any fun at home, or any one to play with, -except Ted. And then I began to earn my living, and so I never had -time to be frivolous at all. I suppose I am too old to begin, now." - -"Much too old," smiled Paul. - -A knock came at the outer door. Paul put her away from him almost -roughly, and glanced with a disturbed look round the room. - -"You had better stay here," he said shortly, "and keep quiet till I -come back." - -"Who is it?" asked Katharine, in some bewilderment. - -"I don't know. You don't understand," was all he said; and he went out -and spoke for a few minutes to a man on the landing. - -"It was about a brief," he said on his return. He still frowned a -little, and she felt, regretfully, that his genial mood had fled. - -"Was that all? Wouldn't he come in?" she asked. - -Paul looked at her incredulously. - -"It wasn't likely that I should ask him," he said, turning his back to -her, and rummaging among the papers on his desk. The colour came into -her face, and she was conscious of having said something tactless, -without exactly knowing what. - -"Shall I go away again?" she asked slowly. The joy seemed suddenly to -have been taken out of her half-term holiday. - -"You see, it is not for myself that I mind," he tried to explain -quietly; "but if you were to be seen in here alone, it would do for -your reputation at once, don't you see?" - -Katharine looked as though she did not see. - -"But, surely, there is no harm in my coming here?" she protested. - -"Of course not; no harm at all. It isn't that," said Paul hastily. - -"Then," said Katharine, "if there is no harm in it, why should I not -come? It is all rubbish, isn't it? I won't come any more if it bothers -you; but that is another matter." - -"My dear child, do be reasonable! It is not a question of my feelings -at all. I like you to come, but I don't want other people to know that -you do, because of what they might say. It is for your sake entirely -that I wish you to be careful. That is why I don't come to see you at -your place. Do you see now?" - -Katharine shook her head. - -"It is either wrong, or it isn't wrong," she said obstinately. "I -never dreamed that there could be any harm in my coming to see you, or -I should not have come. And it was so pleasant, and you have always -been so nice to me. Why did you not tell me before? I don't see how it -can be wrong, and yet it can't be right, if I have got to pretend to -other people that I don't come. I hate hiding things; I don't like the -feel of it. I wish I could understand what you mean." - -"It is quite easy to understand," said Paul, beginning to realise that -his case, as stated baldly by Katharine, was a very lame one. "It is -not wrong, as far as you and I are concerned; but it is a hell of a -world, and people will talk." - -It was strong language for him to use; and she felt again that it was -her stupidity that was annoying him. She sighed, and her voice -trembled a little. - -"I don't see what it has to do with other people at all. It is quite -enough for me, if you like me to come; and as for my reputation, it -seems to exist solely for the sake of the other people, so they may -as well say what they like about it. _I_ don't care. It is horrible of -you to suggest such a lot of horrible ideas. According to you, I ought -to be feeling ashamed of myself; but-- I don't." - -"Of course you don't," said Paul, smiling in spite of himself; and he -put his hand out and drew her towards him. She was only a child, he -told himself, and he was old enough to be her father. - -"My dear little puritan," he added softly, "you were never made to -live in the world as it is. If all women were like you, good heavens! -there wouldn't be any sin left." - -"And I believe you would be sorry for it, wouldn't you?" said -Katharine suddenly. But when, instead of contradicting her, he tried -to make her explain her meaning, she only shook her head resolutely. - -"I don't think I could; I hardly know myself. It was only something -that came into my head at the moment. It was something horrid; don't -let us talk about it any more. Are you coming out with me, or not? Ah, -I know you are not coming, now!" - -She was swift to notice the least change in his expression, and it had -grown very dark in the last ten minutes. He held her out at arms' -length, by her two elbows, and smiled rather uncomfortably. - -"I think I won't to-day, dear. Another time, eh? This brief must be -looked to at once; and I have some other work, too. Go and enjoy your -holiday, without me for a discordant element." - -Katharine flushed up hotly, and loosed herself from his grasp. "I -don't mind your not coming," she said, looking steadily on the ground, -"but I don't think you need bother to invent excuses for _me_." - -Paul shrugged his shoulders with an indifference that maddened her. -"All right; I won't, then. Go and find some one else for a companion, -and don't be a young silly. Can't Ted get off for to-day?" - -"You have never said so many horrid things to me before," cried -Katharine passionately. - -"You have never been so difficult to please before," observed Paul -coolly. "Besides, I was under the impression that I was making rather -a good suggestion." - -"You always drag up Ted when you are being particularly unkind! If I -had wanted to go out with Ted, I shouldn't have come to you first." - -Paul began to fear a scene; and he had more than a man's horror of -scenes. But he could not help seeing the tears in her eyes as she -walked away to the door, and he caught her up just as she was opening -it. - -"Aren't you going to say good-bye? It may be some time before I see -you again." He determined, as he spoke, that it should certainly be a -very long time before he saw her again. But she disarmed him by -turning round swiftly without a trace of her anger left. - -"Oh, why must it be some time? You don't mean it, do you? Say you -don't mean it, Mr. Wilton," she implored. - -"No, no; I was only joking," he said reassuringly. "Quite soon, of -course." And he dropped a kiss on the little pink ear that was nearest -to him. But when he saw the look on her face, and the quick way in -which her breath was coming and going, he blamed himself for his -indiscretion, and pushed her playfully outside the door. - -When Phyllis Hyam came home from the office, that evening, she found -Katharine on the floor of her cubicle, mending stockings; while the -rest of her wardrobe occupied all the available space to be seen. -Katharine never did things by halves, and she very rarely had the -impulse to mend her clothes. - -"Hullo! do you mean to say you are back already?" cried Phyllis, -tripping clumsily over the dresses on the floor. - -"That hardly demands an answer, does it?" said Katharine, without -looking up. She threaded her needle, and added more graciously, "I -didn't go, after all." - -"Oh," said Phyllis wonderingly. "I'm sorry." - -"You needn't bother, thanks. I didn't want to go. I stayed at home -instead, and mended my clothes; they seemed to want it, rather. I -shall be quite respectable, now." - -"Oh!" said Phyllis again. "I should have left it for a wet day, I -think." - -"Perhaps your work allows you to select your holidays according to the -weather. Mine doesn't," said Katharine sarcastically. - -Phyllis cleared the chair, and sat down upon it. - -"You've been crying," she said, with the bluntness that estranged all -her friends in time. Katharine never minded it; it rather appealed to -her love of truth than otherwise. - -"Oh, yes! I was disappointed, that's all. There was nothing really to -cry about. I don't know why I did. Don't sit there and stare, -Phyllis; I know I have made a sight of myself." - -"No, you haven't. Poor old dear!" said Phyllis, with ill-timed -affection. "I should like to tell him what I think of him, I know!" -she added emphatically. - -"What are you muttering about?" asked Katharine. - -"Oh, nothing," said Phyllis. "Have you had any tea?" - -"I don't want any tea, thank you. I wish you wouldn't bother. Go down -and have your own." - -"Guess I shall bring it up here instead, and then we can talk," said -Phyllis. In about ten minutes she returned, very much out of breath, -with a large tray. - -Katharine looked up and frowned. "I said I didn't want any," she said -crossly. However, she added that she believed there was some -shortbread on the book-case, which Phyllis at once annexed; and her -temper began slowly to improve. - -"Phyllis," she asked abruptly, after a long pause, "what do you think -of men?" - -"That they are luxuries," returned Phyllis, without hesitation. "If -you've nothing to do all day but to play about, you can afford to -have a man or two around you; but if you're busy, you can't do with -them, anyhow." - -"Why not?" demanded Katharine. "Don't you think they help one along, -rather?" - -"Not a bit of it! First, they draw you on, because you seem to hold -off; and then, when you begin to warm up, they come down with a -quencher, and you feel you've been a sight too bold. And all that kind -of thing is distracting; and it affects your work after a time." - -"But surely," said Katharine, "a girl can have a man for a friend -without going through all that!" - -"Don't believe in it; never did; it doesn't work." - -"I think it does, sometimes," observed Katharine. "Of course it -depends on the girl." - -"Entirely," said Phyllis cheerfully. "The man would always spoil it, -if he could--without being found out." - -Katharine leaned back on the pillow, with her arms behind her head, -and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. - -"That's just it," she said thoughtfully; "men are so much more -conventional than women. I am glad I am not a man, after all. There -is no need for a woman to be conventional, is there? She isn't afraid -of being suspected, all the time. I'm certain conventionality was made -for man, and not man for conventionality, and that woman never had a -hand in it at all." - -"I don't know about that, though it sounds very fine," said Phyllis. -"But of course men have to be more conventional than we are. It helps -them to make some show of respectability, I guess." - -"It is very horrible, if one analyses it," murmured Katharine. -"According to that, the man who is openly bad is preferable to the man -who is conventionally good. Of course Paul is not bad at all; but, oh! -I do wish I didn't see through people, when they try to pretend -things,--it always annoys them." - -"Eh?" said Phyllis, looking up. "Your tea is getting cold." - -"Never mind about the tea! Tell me, Phyllis, do you think any woman -can attract any man, if she likes?" - -"Of course she can, if she is not in love with him." - -Katharine winced, and brought her eyes down to look at her unconscious -friend, who was still munching shortbread with an expression of -complete contentment on her face. - -"I mean if she _is_ in love with him, very much in love with him." - -"Can't say; never was, myself. But I don't believe you can do -anything, if you've got it badly; you have to let yourself go, and -hope for the best." - -"I don't believe you know any more about it than I do, Phyllis. I'll -tell you what it is that is attractive to a man in a woman: it is her -imperfections. He likes her to be jealous, and vain, and full of small -deceptions. He hates her to be tolerant, and large-minded, and -truthful; above all, he hates her to be truthful. I don't know why it -is so, but it is." - -"It is because she isn't too mighty big to worship him, then; nor cute -enough to see through him," said Phyllis. - -"If you can see through a man, you should never fall in love with -him," added Katharine. - -"Oh, I don't know!" said Phyllis. "You can always pretend not to see; -they never know." - -"A nice man does," said Katharine, smiling for the first time. The tea -had made her feel more charitable; and she took up her pen, and wrote -to her mother's connections, the Keeleys, who did not know she was in -town, to ask them when she could call and see them. - -She felt the need of knowing some one, now that she had made up her -mind not to know Paul any more. For he had taught her the desire for -companionship, and she shrank from being left entirely friendless. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -At first she was surprised to find that it was so easy to get on -without him. She persuaded herself that her indifference arose from -her annoyance at his having imposed the conventional view of things -upon her; but, in reality, it was due to her conviction that he would -be the first to give in, and would soon write and ask her to go and -see him. And she longed for an opportunity to write and refuse him. -But when a fortnight passed by and no letter came from him, her -righteous scorn deserted her and she became merely angry. The flatness -of being completely ignored was unendurable; and she longed more than -ever for a chance of showing him that her dignity was equal to his, -although she was beginning to fear that he was not going to give her -the necessary occasion. Then came days when she felt reckless, and -determined to cease thinking about him at any cost; and she threw -herself into any distraction that offered itself, and tried to think -that she was quite getting over her desire to see him. It was in one -of these moods that she went to call on the Keeleys, who had written -to tell her that they were always at home on Thursdays. The fact of -putting on her best clothes was in itself some satisfaction; it was a -step towards restoring her self-respect, at all events, and she felt -happier than she had been for some time past as she walked down Park -Lane and found her way to their house in Curzon Street. - -The Honourable Mrs. Keeley was the widow of a peer's son who had been -a cabinet minister and had signalised his political career by -supporting every bill for the emancipation of women, and his domestic -one by impressing upon his wife that her true sphere was the home. The -natural reaction followed after his death, when Mrs. Keeley broke -loose from the restraint his presence had put upon her, and practised -the precepts he had loved to expound in public. She became the most -active of political women; she spoke upon platforms; she harried the -rate-payers until they elected her favourite county councillor; she -canvassed in the slums for the candidate who would vote for woman's -suffrage. She had a passion for everything that was modern, -irrespective of its value; and she spent the time that was not -occupied by her public duties in trying to force her principles upon -her only daughter. But Marion Keeley refused to be modern, except in -her amusements; she accepted the bicycle and the cigarette with -equanimity, but she had no desires to reform anything or anybody; she -merely wanted to enjoy herself as much as possible, and she looked -forward to making a wealthy marriage in the future. Her greatest -ambition was to avoid being bored, and her greatest trial was the -energy of her mother. She never pretended to be advanced; and she felt -that she had been wasted on the wrong mother when she saw most of the -girls of her acquaintance burning to do things in defiance of their -old-fashioned parents. She chose her own friends from the idle world -of Mayfair; and so it was that two distinct sets of people met in the -Keeleys' drawing-room on Thursday afternoons and disapproved of each -other. - -Katharine received a warm reception from her hostess. The fact that -she belonged to the class of working gentlewomen, about whom Mrs. -Keeley had many theories but little knowledge, was a sufficient -evidence of her right to be encouraged; and she found herself seated -on an uncomfortable stool, and introduced to an East-end clergyman -and a lady inspector of factories within five minutes of her entry -into the room. She glanced rather longingly towards the back -drawing-room, where her cousin Marion was looking very pretty and was -flirting very charmingly with three smart-looking boys; but it was -evident that her aunt had labelled her as one of her own set, and she -resigned herself to her fate, and agreed with the East-end clergyman -that the want of rain was becoming serious. - -"My niece lectures, you know; strikingly clever, and _so_ young," said -Mrs. Keeley in a breathless aside to the lady inspector, as she came -back from the opposite side of the room, where she had just coupled a -socialist and a guardian of the poor. - -"Indeed!" said the lady inspector; and Katharine began to lose her -diffidence when she found that she smiled quite like an ordinary -person. "Do you lecture on hygiene? Because Mr. Hodgson-Pemberton is -getting up some popular lectures in his parish, and we are trying to -find a lecturer for hygiene?" - -Mr. Hodgson-Pemberton became animated for a moment; but when Katharine -said, apologetically, that her subjects were merely literary, he took -no further interest in her and resumed his conversation with the lady -inspector of factories. Katharine was left alone again, and relapsed -into one of her dreams, until Marion recognised her and came and -fetched her into the back drawing-room. - -"Isn't it refreshing?" she said to the boys, who had now increased in -number: "Kitty doesn't know anything about politics, and she doesn't -want to be with the fogies at all, do you, Kitty? And, for all that, -she is dreadfully clever, and gives lectures on all sorts of things to -all sorts of people. Oh, dear, I do wish I were clever!" - -"Oh, please don't be clever, Miss Keeley! you won't know me any longer -if you are," said her favourite boy, imploringly. - -"You are far too charming to be clever," added another boy, who had -been her favourite last week, and was trying to regain his position by -elaborate compliments. - -"That's rubbish," said Marion crushingly; "and not very polite to my -cousin, either." - -The dethroned favourite did his best to repair his blunder by assuring -Katharine that he would never have supposed her to be clever, if he -had not been told so. And when she laughed uncontrollably at his -remark, he chose to be offended, and withdrew altogether. - -"You shouldn't laugh at him. He can't help it," said Marion, and she -introduced a third admirer to Katharine to get rid of him. He had very -little to say, and when she had confessed that she did not bicycle, -and never went in the park because she was too busy, he stared a -little without speaking at all, and then contrived to join again in -the conversation that was buzzing around Marion. Most of the other -people had left now, and Katharine was trying to summon up courage to -do the same, when her aunt came up to her again, and presented her to -a weary-looking girl in a big hat. - -"You ought to know each other," she said, effusively, "because you are -both workers. Miss Martin does gesso work, and has a studio of her -own; and my niece gives lectures, you know." - -They looked at one another rather hopelessly, and Katharine resisted -another impulse to laugh. - -"The knowledge of our mutual occupations doesn't seem to help the -conversation much, does it?" she said; and the weary-looking girl -tried to smile. - -"That's right," said Mrs. Keeley, resting for a moment in a chair near -them. "I knew you two would have plenty to say to each other. That's -the best of you working-women; there is such a bond of sympathy -between you." - -"Is there?" said Katharine, remembering the sixty-three working-women -at Queen's Crescent, and her feelings towards them. But Mrs. Keeley -had ideas about women who worked, and meant to air them. - -"It is so splendid to think that women can really do men's work, in -spite of everything that is said to the contrary," she continued. - -The weary-looking girl made no attempt to contradict her, but -Katharine was less docile. - -"I don't think they can," she objected. "They might, perhaps, if they -had a fair chance; but they haven't." - -"But they are getting it every day," cried Mrs. Keeley, waxing -enthusiastic. "Think of the progress that has been made, even in my -time; and in another ten years there will be nothing that women will -not be able to do in common with men! Isn't it a glorious reflection?" - -"I don't think it will be so," persisted Katharine. "It has nothing to -do with education, or any of those things. A woman is handicapped, -just because she is a woman, and has to go on living like a woman. -There is always home work to be done, or some one to be nursed, or -clothes to be mended. A man has nothing to do but his work; but a -woman is expected to do a woman's work as well as a man's. It is too -much for any one to do well. I am a working-woman myself, and I don't -find it so pleasant as it is painted." - -"I'm _so_ glad you think so," murmured Marion, who had come up -unobserved, with her favourite in close attendance. "I was afraid you -would be on mamma's side, and I believe you are on mine, after all." - -At this point the weary-looking girl got up to leave, as though she -could not bear it another minute, and Katharine tried to do the same; -but she was not to be let off so easily. - -"Tell me," said her aunt earnestly, "do you not think that women are -happier if they have work to do for their living?" - -"I suppose it is possible, but I haven't met any who are," answered -Katharine. "I think it is because they feel they have sacrificed all -the pleasures of life. Men don't like women who work, do they?" - -The eyes of Marion met those of her favourite admirer; and Marion -blushed. But Mrs. Keeley returned to the charge. - -"Indeed, there are many in my own acquaintance who have the greatest -admiration for working-women." - -"Oh, yes," laughed Katharine, "they have lots of admiration for us; -but they don't fall in love with us, that's all. I think it is because -it is the elusive quality in woman that fascinates men; and directly -they begin to understand her, they cease to be fascinated by her. And -woman is growing less mysterious every day, now; she is chiefly -occupied in explaining herself, and that is why men don't find her -such good fun. At least, I think so." - -"You know us remarkably well, Miss Austen, you do, really," drawled -the favourite boy. - -"Oh, no," said Katharine, really getting up this time, "I don't -pretend to. But I do know the working gentlewoman very well indeed, -and I don't think she is a bit like the popular idea of her." - -She was much pleased with herself as she walked home; and even the -bustle of Edgware Road and the squalor of Queen's Crescent failed to -remove the pleasant impression that her excursion into the fashionable -world had left with her. It comforted her wounded feelings to -discover that she could hold her own in a room full of people, -although the only man whose opinion she valued held her of no more -account than a child. - -"Hullo! you seem pleased with yourself," said Polly Newland, as she -entered the house. The cockney twang of her voice struck un-musically -on Katharine's ear, and she murmured some sort of ungracious reply and -turned to rummage in the box for letters. There was one for her, and -the sight of the precise, upright handwriting drove every thought of -Polly, and the Keeleys, and her pleasant afternoon out of her head. -Even then something kept her from reading it at once, and she took it -upstairs into her cubicle, and laid it on the table while she changed -her clothes and elaborately folded up her best ones and put them away. -Then she sat down on the bed and tore it open with trembling fingers, -and tried to cheat herself into the belief that she was perfectly -indifferent as to its contents. - -"Dear child," it ran:-- - - What has become of you? Come round and have tea with me - to-morrow afternoon. I have some new books to show you. - - Yours ever, - - PAUL WILTON. - -Here at last was the opportunity she had wanted. He should know now -that she was not a child, to be laughed at because she was cross, to -be ignored when she was hurt, and to be coaxed back into good humour -again by a bribe. She would be able to show him now that she was not -the sort of woman he seemed to consider her, and she told herself -several times that she was overjoyed at being given the chance of -telling him so. But when it came to the point, she found that the -cold, dignified letter she had been composing for weeks was not so -easy to write; and she spent the rest of the evening in thinking of -new ones. First of all, it was to be very short, and very stiff; but -that was not obvious enough to gratify her injured feelings, and she -set to work on another one that was mainly sarcastic. But sarcasm -seemed a sorry weapon to use when she had reached such a crisis in her -life as this; and she thought of another one in bed, after the light -was out, in which she determined that he should know she was unhappy -as well. And this one was so pathetic that it even roused her own -pity, and she felt that it would be positively inhuman to send such a -letter as that to any one, however badly he had behaved. - -In the end, she did not write to him at all. It was more effective, -she thought, to remain silent. So she went to school the next morning -as usual, and gave her lessons as usual; though she looked in the -glass at intervals to see if she were pale and had a sad expression, -which certainly ought to have been the case. But even her head did not -ache, which it did sometimes; and Nature obstinately refused to come -to her assistance. She reached home again about four o'clock, and the -aspect of the doorsteps and the area completed her discomfiture. If -they had only been a little less squalid, a little more free from the -domination of cats, she might have retained her dignified attitude to -the end. But there was something about them to-day that recalled the -cosy little room in the Temple by vivid contrast; and she flung her -pile of exercise books recklessly upon the hall table, and hastened -out of the house again, without allowing herself time to think. - -"I was afraid you were not coming," he said, and he greeted her with -both hands. She never remembered seeing him so unreserved in his -welcome before; and she marvelled at herself for having attempted to -keep away from him any longer. - -"It was because of the cats," she said, laughing to hide her emotion. -But she could not hide anything from him; he knew something of what -she was thinking, and he bent down and deliberately kissed her. - -"Why did you do that?" she asked, trying to free her hands to cover -her burning face. - -"Because you didn't stop me, I suppose," he replied, lightly. - -"But I didn't know you were going to." - -"Because I knew you wouldn't mind, then." - -She did not speak, and her eyes were lowered. - -"Did you mind, Katharine?" - -"No," she whispered. - -"Now, tell me why I am indebted to the cats," he said, as he rang the -bell for tea; and for the rest of the afternoon they talked, as -Katharine laughingly said, "without any conversation." - -There was no explanation on either side, no attempt at facing the -situation; and she felt when she left him that she had thrown away her -last chance of controlling their friendship. There had been a tacit -struggle between their two wills, and his had triumphed. She could -never put him out of her life now, unless he broke with her of his -own accord; and she realised bitterly, even while she was glad, that -he did not care enough for her to do that. - -She saw him constantly all through the hot months of July and August. -She gave up her original intention of going home for the summer -holidays, on the pretext of reading for her next term's lectures at -the British Museum; but she did very little work in reality, and she -spent whole days in the reading-room, regardless of the people around -her, sometimes even of the book before her, and dreamed long hours -away, making visions in which only two people played any prominent -part,--and those two people were Paul and herself. Her whole life -seemed to be a kind of dream just then, with a vivid incident here and -there when she met him or went to see him, and the rest a vague -nebula, in which something outside herself made her do what was -expected of her. Sometimes she felt impelled to work furiously hard -for a day or two, or to take long walks by herself, as though nothing -else would tire her restless energy; and then she would relapse into -her lethargic mood again, and do nothing but watch vigilantly for the -post, or haunt the streets where she had sometimes met him. And all -the while she thought she was happy, with a kind of weird, passionate -happiness she had never known before; and it seemed to compensate for -the hours of suspense and anxiety she went through when he took no -notice of her. For his conduct was as inexplicable as ever; and for -one day that he was demonstrative and even affectionate, she had to -endure many of indifference that almost amounted to cruelty. - -"We are horribly alike; it hurts me sometimes when I suddenly find -myself in you," she said to him one day, when he was in an expansive -mood. - -"I am much honoured by the discovery, but I fail to see where the -likeness lies," was his reply. - -"It is not very definite," she said, thoughtfully. "I think it must be -because I feel your changes of mood so quickly. We laugh together at -something, and everything seems so fearfully nice; and then, suddenly, -I feel that something has sprung up between us, and I look up and I -see that you feel it too, and all at once there is nothing to talk -about. Haven't you ever noticed it?" - -"I think you are an absurdly sensitive little girl," he said, smiling. - -"Of course," she continued, without heeding his remark, "on the -surface, no two people could be more unlike than we are. You are so -awfully afraid of showing what you feel, for instance; but I always -tell you everything, don't I?" - -"My dear child, what nonsense! I am of the most artless and confiding -nature; while you, on the contrary, never give yourself away at all. -Why, you never tell me anything I really want to know! Whatever put -such an idea into that curious head of yours?" - -"Oh, don't!" she cried. "You make me feel quite hysterical! You have -no right to upset all my views on my own character, as well as on -yours. I _know_ I am stupidly demonstrative. I have often blushed all -over because I have told you things I never meant to tell any one. How -can you say I am reserved? I only wish I were!" - -"The few confidences of a reserved person are always rash ones," -observed Paul. "The same might be said of the reflections of an -impulsive person, or the impulses of a reflective one. It all comes -from want of habit. You can't alter your temperament, that's all." - -"But I can't believe that I am reserved," she persisted; "it seems -incredible. And it makes us more alike than ever." - -"Really, Katharine, I beg you to rid your mind of that exceedingly -fallacious notion," said Paul, laughing. "I assure you I am to be read -like a book." - -"A book in a strange language, then. I don't think I shall ever be -able to read it," said Katharine, shaking her head. And she drew down -a rebuke upon herself for being solemn. - -They had a tacit unwillingness to become serious, about this time; -their conversation was made up of trivialities, and he never kissed -her except on the tips of her fingers. They avoided any demonstration -of feeling that might have revealed to them the anomaly of their -position, and they mutually shrank from defining their relations -towards one another. - -They were standing together at the window, one day, looking down into -Fountain Court, which was as hot and as dusty as ever in spite of the -water that was playing into the basin in the middle. - -"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, so suddenly that she was -surprised into an answer. - -"I was thinking how queer it is that you and I should be friends like -this," she replied, truthfully. - -"What's the matter with our friendship, then?" he asked, in the -prosaic manner he always assumed when she showed any sentiment. She -laughed. - -"There's nothing the matter with it, of course. You are the most -unromantic person I ever knew. You seem to delight in divesting every -little trivial incident of its sentiment. What makes you such a -Vandal?" - -"But, surely, you are not supposing that there _is_ any romance in our -knowing each other, are you?" - -"I never dreamed of such a thing," retorted Katharine. "I think there -is more romance in your cigarette holder than in the whole of you!" - -Sometimes she wondered if he were capable of deep feeling at all, or -if his indifference were really assumed. - -"I envy you your utter disregard of circumstance," she once exclaimed -to him. "How did you learn it? Do you really never feel things, or is -it only an easy way of getting through life?" - -"I'm afraid I don't see what you are driving at. I dare say you are -being very brilliant, but I fail to discern what I am expected to -say." - -"You are not expected to say anything," she said, playfully. "That is -the best of being a gigantic fraud like yourself; nobody ever does -expect you to fulfil the ordinary requirements of every-day life. You -might be a heathen god, who grins heartlessly while people try to -propitiate him with the best they have to offer, and who eats up their -gifts greedily when they are not looking." - -"Has all this any reference to me, might I ask?" - -"I don't believe you've got any ordinary human feeling," pursued -Katharine. "I don't believe you care for anybody or anything, so long -as you are left alone. Why don't you say something, instead of staring -at me as though I were a curiosity?" - -"If you reflect, you will see that there has not been a single pause -since you began to speak. Besides, why shouldn't you be catechised as -well as myself? Where do you keep all your deep feeling, please? I -haven't seen much of it, but perhaps I have no right to expect such a -thing. No doubt you keep it all for some luckier person than myself." - -His tone was one of raillery, as hers had been when she began to talk. -But she startled him, as she did sometimes, by a sudden change of -mood; and she flashed round upon him indignantly. - -"It is horrible of you to laugh at me. You know you don't mean what -you say; you know I have any amount of deep feeling. I hide it on -purpose, because you don't like me to show it, you know you don't! -I--I think you are very unkind to me." - -He reached out his hand and stroked her hair gently; she was sitting a -little away from him, and he could see the sensitive curve of her -lower lip. - -"Don't, child! One never knows how to take you. Another time you would -have seen that I was only joking." - -"You have no right to joke about such a serious matter. You know it -was a serious matter, now; wasn't it?" - -"The most serious in the universe," he assured her; and he brought his -hand gently down her cheek, and laid it against her throat. - -"You are only laughing; you always laugh at me," she complained; but -she bent her head, and kissed his hand softly. "I feel like a wolf, -sometimes," she added, impetuously. - -"Didn't you have enough tea?" he said. But she knew by his tone that -he was not laughing at her now, and she went on recklessly. - -"I am certain I could not love any one very much, without hating him -too. It is a horrible dual feeling that tears one to pieces. Is it the -badness in me, I wonder? Other people don't seem to feel like that -when they are in love. Why is it?" - -"Because it is the same emotion, or set of emotions, that inspires -both love and hatred," said Paul. "Circumstance does the rest, or -temperament." - -"It is inexplicable," said Katharine solemnly. "I can understand -killing a man, because he could not understand my love for him; or -casting off my own child, because it was bored by my affection. I am -quite sure," she added, quaintly, "that I should bore any one in a -week, if I really loved him." - -"Oh, no," said Paul politely; and they again laughed away a crisis. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -At the beginning of October Paul went abroad. She had thought that -life without him would be unendurable, and she could not analyse her -own feelings when she found that she could laugh with as much -enjoyment as ever, and that her fits of depression were less frequent -than before. In fact, she had often been far more unsettled if a -letter from him had failed to arrive when it was due; and a new -sensation of freedom went far to cure her of the restlessness that had -possessed her all the summer. She began to probe into her truth-loving -soul, to try and discover whether her feeling for him was not an -illusion after all; but she found no satisfactory explanation of the -problem that was puzzling her, and she put it voluntarily away from -her, and turned to her work as a healthy antidote. And she had a good -deal of work just then. Thanks to the influence of the Honourable Mrs. -Keeley, her private pupils were increasing in number, and these, with -her lectures at the school, were producing a salary that relieved her -of all financial worry for the present. She was making new friends -too, and it added to her contentment to find that people asked her to -go and see them because they liked her. For the first time since her -arrival in town, she felt sure of being on the way to success; and the -sensation was a very thrilling one. Phyllis asked her, one day, why -she was looking so happy. Katharine laughed, and pondered for a -moment; then answered frankly that she did not know why. "I only know -that I have never been so gloriously happy in my whole life," she -added; and she wondered, as she spoke, whether the mad, feverish -happiness of the summer months had really been happiness at all. But -Phyllis, who felt that she had no share in this strange new life of -hers, looked back regretfully on the earlier days when Katharine had -been lonely and in need of her sympathy. Even Ted told her she was -looking "very fit," and this was the highest term of praise in his -vocabulary. For, since the beginning of October, she had seen a good -deal of Ted. It was very restful to come back to him, after the state -of high pressure in which she had been living lately; and when she -grew accustomed to his being a West-end young man, instead of an -easy-going schoolboy, she found him the same delightful companion as -of old. He did not allude to her many weeks of silence, nor ask her -how she had spent them; he came at her bidding, and when he found that -she liked him to come he came again. He was as humble as ever, except -in matters of worldly knowledge, and there he showed a youthful -superiority over her which amused her immensely. His laziness, which -had always been more or less an assumption with him, had developed -into the fashionable pose of indifference; and she tried in vain to -spur him on to doing something definite with his life, instead of -letting it drift away in a city office. - -"Girls don't understand these things," he would say with good-natured -obstinacy. "Of course I loathe the beastly hole; any decent chap -would. But I may as well stop there. It's not my fault that I was ever -born, is it? I get enough to live on, with what my cousin allows me; -and I'm not going to grind all I know, to get a rise of five bob a -week. It isn't good enough. I'm sure I'm very easily contented, and my -wants are few enough. Oh, rats! I must have a frock coat; every decent -chap has. And you couldn't possibly call that extravagant, because I -sha'n't think of squaring it for a year at least. Of course I don't -expect you to understand these things, Kitty; it's impossible for a -man to do the cheap, like a woman." - -And Katharine, who always wanted to reconstitute society, with a very -limited knowledge of its first principles, would strike in with a -vigorous denunciation of his comfortable philosophy; and he would -listen and laugh at her, and make no effort to support his own opinion -which he continued to hold, nevertheless. He was the best companion -she could have had just then; he never varied, whatever her mood was, -and he kept her from thinking too much about herself, which was a -habit she had acquired since she last saw him. Besides, he was a link -with her childhood, that period of vague existence which had held no -problems to be solved, and had never inspired her with a wish to -reform human nature. So they spent many evenings and half-holidays -together, and they went frequently to the theatre and sat in the -gallery, which often entertained them as much as the play itself; and -he loved to pay for her, with a manly air, at the box office, and -always made the same kind of weak resistance afterwards, when -Katharine insisted on refunding her share, under the lamp at the -corner of Queen's Crescent, Marylebone. Sometimes, when they were -unusually well off, they would dine at an Italian restaurant first, -where they could have many wonderful dishes for two shillings, and a -bottle of tenpenny claret. On one occasion--it was Ted's birthday, and -his cousin had sent him a five-pound note--they had more than an -ordinary jubilation. - -"Buck up, and get ready!" he had rushed into the little distempered -hall to say. "We'll go to a new place, where the waiters aren't dirty, -and the wine isn't like sulphuric acid. And, Kitty, put on that hat -with the pink roses, won't you?" - -They did their best, on that memorable evening, to reduce the five -pound-note, and to behave as though they were millionaires. They drove -in a hansom to the restaurant in question, which was a very brilliant -little one close to the theatres, where they had a waiter to -themselves instead of the fifth part of a very distracted and -breathless one. The state of Ted's pockets could always be estimated -by the amount of attention he exacted from the waiter; and this -evening there was absolutely nothing he would do for himself, from the -disposal of his walking stick to the choice of the wine. - -"It's a very good tip to start by taking the waiter into your -confidence," he assured Kitty, when it had just been settled for them -that they were to have _bisque_ soup. - -"It's convenient, sometimes, when everything is written in French," -observed Katharine. Ted changed the conversation. On his twenty-second -birthday he felt inclined, for once in a way, to assert himself. - -"I'm rather gone on this place; pretty, isn't it?" he continued. "All -the candle-shades are red, white, and blue; mean to say you didn't -twig that? You're getting less alive every day, Kit! Awfully -up-to-date place, this! I don't suppose there is a single decent woman -in the room, bar yourself." - -He said this with such pride in the knowledge, that she would not have -robbed him of his satisfaction for the world. - -"They look much the same as other women to me," she observed, after a -quick survey of the little tables. - -"That's because you don't know. How should you? Women never do, bless -them! Do you like fizz?" - -"Oh, Ted, don't! Isn't it a pity to spend such a lot just for -nothing?" she remonstrated. She had visions of all the unpaid bills he -had disclosed to her in one of his recent pessimistic moods. - -"My dear Kitty, you really must learn to enjoy life. Don't be so -beastly serious over everything. Bills? What bills? There aren't any -to-night. The art of living is knowing when to be extravagant." - -And she had to acknowledge, for the rest of the evening, that he had -certainly mastered the art of living. They went to a music hall, and -sat in the stalls; and Katharine enjoyed it because Ted was there, and -because he was so funny all through,--first, in his fear of being -asked by the conjurer for his hat which was a new one, or his watch -which was only represented by his watch chain; and secondly, because -he tried so hard to distract her attention from the songs that were -inclined to be risky. And Ted enjoyed it because it was the thing to -do, and because there would be hardly any of that fiver left by the -time he got home. - -"Then you'll look me up at the office at five to-morrow; you won't -forget?" he asked rather wistfully, when they parted on the doorstep. - -"Of course I won't forget," she answered, hastily. "Dear old Ted, I -have enjoyed it so much!" - -"Good-night, dear," he said, as he turned away. And his tone haunted -her rather, as she groped her way up to bed in the dark. She began to -feel half afraid, with some annoyance at the thought, that this -pleasant state of things could not go on for ever, and that Ted was -going to spoil it all again as he had done once before, by taking -their relationship seriously. So she prepared to meet him, the next -afternoon, with a reserve of manner that was meant to indicate her -displeasure; but he disconcerted her very much by asking her bluntly -why the dickens she was playing so poorly; and she felt unreasonably -annoyed to find that her fears were groundless. So for some time -longer they went on as before, in the same happy-go-lucky kind of way -that had always characterised them. She learned to know several of his -friends, most of them genuine boyish fellows, who appealed to her more -by their affection for Ted than by any qualities they possessed -themselves. They seemed very much alike, though she was bound to -acknowledge that this impression may have been conveyed by the cut of -their clothes and the shape of their hats, which did not differ by so -much as a hair's breadth. But Ted always shone by comparison with the -best of them. He was the only one of his set who did not take himself -seriously; he had a sense of humour, too, and this compensated for the -exhausted manner which he felt obliged to assume as a mark of -fellowship with them. - -He asked her, one night, with some diffidence, if she would mind -coming to tea in his chambers on the following Sunday. - -"I shouldn't think of asking you to come alone," he hastened to add; -"but Monty is going to bring his sister along, so that's all square as -long as you don't mind." - -"Mind! Why, of course not," said Katharine, in frank astonishment. -"What is there to mind? I want to see your chambers very much. I have -often wondered why you never asked me before." - -Ted stared at her for a moment, and then began tracing what remained -of the pattern in the linoleum with his walking stick. They were -standing, as usual, in the hall of number ten, Queen's Crescent. - -"What a babe you are, Kitty!" he said, without looking up; and -Katharine reddened as she suddenly realised his meaning. Of course Ted -was no longer a boy, and she was no longer a child; and she was on -precisely the same footing with him in the eyes of the world as she -was with Paul Wilton. Unconsciously, she compared the attitude of the -two men under similar circumstances; Paul, who was unscrupulous in -letting her visit him as long as no one knew of it; and Ted, who had -no views on the matter at all but merely wished to spare her any -annoyance. - -"I see," she said. "Who is Monty?" She always felt nervous when he -offered to introduce her to any of his friends; because she knew very -well that he warned them all beforehand that she had "ideas," and this -put her at a distinct disadvantage to begin with. - -"Oh, Monty's awfully smart! He knows no end. You'll like Monty, I -expect. He wants to meet you, awfully; says he likes the look of your -photograph. I told him how bally clever you were, and all that. -Monty's clever, too; he reads Ibsen." - -Katharine received this proof of Monty's intellectual ability with -some cynicism which, however, she was careful to conceal. - -"I shall be delighted to meet him," she said. "What time shall I -come?" - -"Oh, any time; four will do. And, I say, Kit, I suppose I must have -cream, mustn't I? You can't give Monty milk that's been sitting for -hours, and spoof him that it's cream. I've done that sometimes, but -you can't spoof Monty." - -"Oh, I'll bring the cream. I know a shop where they'll let me have it -on Sunday," said Katharine confidently; and Ted left comforted. - -After all, Monty's sister could not come; but Ted's sense of the -fitness of things was satisfied by his having asked her, and, as Monty -himself came and did not seem afraid of Katharine as all his other -friends were, he felt that his tea-party was a success. The only thing -that marred his enjoyment was the fact that Katharine, for some -unaccountable caprice, refused to be intellectual in spite of the -efforts of Monty, whose real name proved to be Montague, to draw her -out. Monty was a young man with a gentlemanly view of life, tempered -by a great desire to be thought advanced; and he began the -conversation with a will. - -"Awfully clever new thing at the Royalty! Suppose you've seen it, Miss -Austen?" he began. "Awfully plucky of the Independent Theatre to put -it on, it is really." - -"Is it?" smiled Katharine. "I haven't seen it yet. Ted and I hate -those advanced plays,--they're so slow as a rule. Comic operas, we -like best." - -Monty seemed surprised; and Ted was a little disconcerted by this -frank avowal of his own ordinary tastes. - -"You see, Kit only goes to those things to please me," he said, -apologetically. "She's just as keen on all those humpy plays as you -are, don't you know?" - -Monty was not sure that he knew, but he turned to another branch of -art. - -"Talking about posters," he said,--which was only his favourite method -of opening a conversation, for nobody was talking about posters at -all,--"have you seen that awfully clever one of the new paper, 'The -Future'? It's by quite a new man, in the French style, so bold and yet -so subtle. But of course you must have seen it." - -"Oh, yes," laughed Katharine, "I should think I had! You mean the red -one, don't you, with a black sun and a cactus thing, and a lot of -spots all over it? Ted and I were laughing at it, only yesterday. Do -you really think it is good?" - -Monty said he really did think so; and Ted, who was torn in two by his -admiration for both of them, came to his rescue. - -"You had better be careful, Kitty," he said, anxiously. "Monty does -know." - -"Of course," said Katharine politely, "it is only a matter of taste, -isn't it, Mr. Montague?" - -"Quite so," replied Monty, concealing his feelings of superiority as -well as he could. "By the way, talking of taste, what do you think of -the new Danish poet? Rather strong, don't you think?" - -Katharine sighed, and glanced nervously at Ted. - -"Oh, I suppose he's all right," she said, with the exaggerated -solemnity that would have betrayed to any one who knew her well how -close she was to laughter; "but he isn't a bit new, is he? I mean, he -only says the same things over again that the old poets said ever so -much better. Don't you think so?" - -"They all give you the hump, any way," put in Ted. But Monty ignored -his remark, and said that he never read any of the old poets; he -preferred the new ones because they went so much deeper. - -"Hang it all, Kitty; what a rum girl you are!" said Ted, in a -disappointed tone. "A chap never knows where to have you. I did think -you were advanced, if you couldn't be anything else." - -At this point, Katharine yielded to an irresistible desire to laugh; -and Ted looked anxiously at the friend to whom he had given such a -false impression of her "ideas." But, to his surprise, the great Monty -himself joined in her laughter, and seemed inexpressibly relieved to -find that she was not nearly so intellectual as she had been painted, -and it was therefore no longer incumbent on him to sustain the -conversation at such a high pitch. - -"Now that we have settled I am not advanced," said Katharine, turning -up her veil, "supposing we have some tea." And for the rest of the -afternoon they behaved like rational beings, and discussed the low -comedians and the comic papers. - -"All the same," Ted complained, when Monty had gone, "he's awfully -clever, really. You may rot as much as you like, but Monty does know -about things. You don't know what a fool he makes _me_ feel." - -"He needn't do that," said Katharine. "It would be the kindest thing -in the world not to let him read another magazine or newspaper for six -months. I think he is very nice, though, when he lets himself go." - -Ted looked at her a little sadly. - -"You seemed to be getting on beastly well, I thought," he said. - -"He is certainly very amusing, and it was nice of you to ask me to -meet him," continued Katharine, innocently. Ted walked to the -fire-place, and studied himself silently in the looking-glass. - -"I wish I wasn't such a damned fool," he burst out savagely. Katharine -stood still with amazement. - -"Ted!" she cried. "Ted! What do you mean?" - -Ted planted his elbows on the mantel-shelf, and buried his face in his -hands. - -"Ted!" she said again, with distress in her voice. "What do you mean, -Ted? As if I--oh, Ted! And a man like _that_! You know piles more than -he does, old boy, ever so much more. You don't put on any side, that's -all; and he does. You mustn't say that any more, Ted; oh, you mustn't! -It hurts." - -"You know you are spoofing me," he said, in muffled tones. "You know -you only say that just to please me. You think I am a fool all the -time, only you are a good old brick and pretend not to see it. As if I -didn't twig! I ought never to have been born." - -Katharine walked swiftly over to him, and laid her hand on his arm. -She did not reason with herself; she only knew that she wanted to -comfort him at any price. - -"Ted," she said, earnestly, "_I_ am glad you were born." - -He turned round suddenly, and looked at her; and she started nervously -at the eagerness of his expression. He had not looked like that when -he made love to her in the summer-house. - -"Do you mean that, dear?" - -"Oh, don't be so serious, Ted! Of course I mean it; of course I am -glad you were born. Think how forlorn I should have been without you; -it would have been awful if I had been alone." He looked only half -satisfied; and she went on desperately, caring for nothing but to -charm away the miserable look from his face. "Dear Ted, you know what -you are to me; you know I don't care a little bit for Monty, or -anybody else, either." - -"Do you mean that, Kitty?" he asked again, in a voice that he could -not steady. "Not anybody else, dear?" - -Something indefinable, something that made her long for another man's -voice to be trembling for love of her, as his was trembling now, -seemed to come between them and to strike her dumb. He looked at her -searchingly for a moment, then shook off her hand and pushed her away -from him. She shivered as the suspicion crossed her mind that he had -guessed her thoughts, though she knew quite well that the renewal of -her friendship with Paul was unknown to him. She went up to him again, -and let him seize her two hands and crush them until she could have -cried out with the pain. - -"You are the best fellow in the world, Ted," she said. "But you -mustn't look like that; oh, don't! I am not worth it, Ted; I am not -nearly good enough for you, dear,--you know I am not. I am never going -to marry any one; I am not the sort to marry; I am hard, and cold, and -bitter. Sometimes, I think I shall just work and fight my way to the -end. I know I shall never be happy in the way most women are happy. -But I will be your chum, and stick to you always, Ted. May I?" - -"Oh, shut up!" said Ted, almost in a whisper; and the tears sprang to -her eyes. She stood on tiptoe, and impetuously kissed the only place -on his cheek she could reach. At the moment, it seemed the only right -and proper thing to be done. - -"I couldn't help it. I had to; and I don't care," she said, defiantly. -And Ted wrung her hands again, and let them go. - -"I suppose none of it is your fault, Kit, but--" - -There was a pause, and Katharine avoided his eyes, for the first time -in her life. - -"It's time to go," she said. "Will you see me home?" - -She fetched him his hat and coat, and Ted gave himself a shake. - -"He didn't take cream, after all," he said, with a poor attempt at a -laugh. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -A letter came from Paul, just before Christmas, to say that he was -going to remain at Monte Carlo for another month. Knowing his passion -for warmth and sunshine, she was not surprised; she was hardly even -disappointed. She began to wonder what her feelings would have been if -he had decided to remain another year instead of another month; and -again she was obliged to own that the solution of her own state of -mind was beyond her. The Keeleys went abroad about the same time, -which took away her chief centre of amusement; and her former mood of -satisfaction was succeeded by one of serene indifference, in which she -continued until she went home for the holidays. At Ivingdon the -dulness of four weeks, passed almost entirely in the company of her -father and Miss Esther, caused the old unsatisfied feeling to return -to her; and she longed for a vent for the restless energy that wore -her out as long as there was no work to be done. She grew impatient -once more for a glimpse of Paul Wilton, for the touch of his thin, -nervous hand, and the sound of his quiet, unemotional voice; and she -acted over and over again, in her mind, how they would meet once more -in the little room overlooking Fountain Court, what he would be sure -to say to her, and what she knew she would say to him. No letter came -from Paul all through those weary days, and she only wrote to him -once. The pathetic note was very prominent in that one letter, and she -consoled herself with her own unhappiness while she awaited the answer -to it; but when no answer came her pride revolted, and she wished -passionately that she had never sent it. - -"Can't you stay another week, child?" said Miss Esther, as the end of -the holidays drew near. "You don't look much better than when you -came, though it's not to be expected you should, working away as you -do. I never heard such nonsense, and all to no purpose! When I was a -girl-- But there, what's the use?" - -And Katharine, who had heard it all before, explained over again with -increasing impatience that her work was a definite thing and required -her presence on a certain day. She had never felt less pleased with -herself than on the day of her departure, when she left the home that -had once been the whole world to her, and took leave of the people who -no longer believed in her. But as she neared London a sensation of -coming events dispelled the atmosphere of disapproval which had been -stifling her for a whole month, and she once more felt the mistress of -her own situation and her own future. Here was life and activity, work -and success, and some of it was going to be hers. And Paul Wilton -would soon be coming home again. They told her at Queen's Crescent how -well she was looking, when she appeared in the dining-room at -tea-time; and she laughed back in reply as she contrasted their -greeting with her aunt's farewell words. - -"Just a year since I first came," she said to Phyllis. "What a lot has -happened since then! I don't believe it was myself at all; it must -have been somebody else. Oh, I am glad I am different now!" - -"I remember," said Phyllis, who never rhapsodised. "Your face was -smutty after your journey, and you looked as though you would kill any -one who spoke to you." - -"And you were eating bread and treacle," retorted Katharine. "Let's -have some now, shall we?" - -"By the way," said Phyllis presently, "there's a letter for you -upstairs. It came about a week ago, and I clean forgot to forward it. -I'm awfully sorry, but I don't suppose it matters much because it's -got a foreign post-mark." - -The laughter died out of Katharine's face, as she put down her teacup -and stared speechlessly at her friend. - -"Shall I go and fetch it?" continued the unconscious Phyllis, as she -deluged her last morsel of bread with more treacle than any force of -cohesion would allow it to hold. "Perhaps you're ready to come up -yourself, though? I've prepared a glorification for you--Hullo! what -are you in such a desperate hurry about?" - -When she arrived breathless at the top of the house, Katharine was -already in her cubicle, turning everything over in a wild and -fruitless search. - -"Go away!" she said shortly, when Phyllis came in. "It was the only -thing I asked you to do, and I thought I could trust you. I shall know -better another time. What are all these things doing here?" - -She knocked her head, as she spoke, against a string of Chinese -lanterns. There were flowers on the mantel-shelf, and a look of -festivity in the dingy little room; but it was all lost on Katharine, -who continued to open and shut the drawers with trembling hands, and -to search in every likely place for her letter, until Phyllis put an -end to her aimless task by bringing it to her in eloquent silence. -Then she stole away again; and Katharine sat down in the midst of the -confusion she had created, and became absorbed in its contents. It was -very short, and there was hardly any news in it that could not have -been extracted from a guide-book; but she spent quite half an hour in -reading it and pondering over it, until she knew every one of its -stilted phrases by heart. He was very well and it was very hot, and he -was sitting by the open window looking down on the orange groves, and -the sea was a splendid colour, and there were some very decent people -in the hotel, and amongst them her relations the Keeleys. It was hard -to look up at last, with dazed eyes, and to discover that she was in -Queen's Crescent, Marylebone, instead of being where her thoughts -were, in the sunny South of France. - -"Hullo," said Phyllis, who was standing at the end of the bed. - -"Yes?" said Katharine, smiling. "Do you want anything?" - -"Oh, no," said Phyllis, and crept away again. Katharine sat and -pondered a little while longer. Presently, she shivered and made the -discovery that she was cold, and she jumped up and stretched herself. - -"I suppose I must unpack," she said, still smiling contentedly. "Where -has Phyllis gone, I wonder?" - -She went to the door and made the passage ring with her voice, until -Phyllis hurried out of a neighbouring room and apologised for not -being there when she was wanted. - -"I believe you were there when I didn't want you," said Katharine -candidly. "Wasn't I cross to you or something?" Her foot touched one -of the discarded Chinese lanterns. - -"Hullo! I thought there were some lanterns somewhere. Where are they -gone?" - -"Oh, no!" said Phyllis, going down on her knees before the box. "You -must have been dreaming." - -"I wasn't dreaming, and you're a foolish old dear, and I am a selfish -pig," cried Katharine penitently. - -"Oh, no!" said Phyllis again. "I was the pig, you see, because I -forgot your letter. You'll rumple my hair, if you do that again." - -Katharine did hug her again, nevertheless, and accused herself of all -the offences she could remember, whether they related to the present -occasion or not; and Phyllis silenced her in a gruff voice, and the -unpacking proceeded by degrees. - -"Don't you think," said Katharine irrelevantly, "that women are much -more selfish than men, in some ways?" - -"What ways?" - -"I mean when they are absorbed in anything. Now, a man wouldn't behave -like a cad to his best friend, just because he happened to be in love -with a girl, would he? But a woman would. She would betray her nearest -and dearest for the sake of a man. I am certain I should. Women are so -wolfish, directly they feel things; and they seem to lose their sense -of honour when they fall in love. Don't they?" - -"Where do the stockings go?" was all Phyllis said. - -"Perhaps," continued Katharine, "it is because a woman really has -stronger feelings than a man." - -"I shouldn't wonder," said Phyllis. "Who packed the sponge bag next -to your best hat?" - -"I don't think it matters," said Katharine mildly. "I was saying-- -What are you laughing at?" - -"Nothing. Only, it is so delightful to have you back again, moralising -away while I do all the work," laughed Phyllis. - -Katharine owned humbly that Phyllis always did all the work, and -Phyllis bluntly repudiated the charge, and insisted that Katharine was -the most unselfish person in the world, and Katharine ended in -allowing herself to be persuaded that she was; and the rest of the -evening passed in an amicable exchange of news. Even the "cat in the -pie dish" seemed appetising that evening. - -Her feeling of satisfaction was increased when she arrived at school -the next morning and found that Mrs. Downing was anxious to speak to -her. An interview with the lady principal at the beginning of term -generally foreboded some good. - -"I want you to give up the junior teaching this term, my dear Miss -Austen," she began, after greeting her warmly. "You are really too -good for it, far too good. Mr. Wilton was quite right when he told me -how cultured you were, quite right. At the time, I must confess to -feeling very doubtful; you seemed so inexperienced,--so very young, in -fact. But I have come to think that in your case it is no drawback to -be young; indeed, the dear children seem to prefer it. Their -attachment for you is extraordinary; pardon me, I should have said -phenomenal. And the way you manage them is perfect, quite -perfect,--just the touch of firmness to show that your kindness is not -weakness. Admirable! I am most grateful to Mr. Wilton for introducing -you to me, most grateful. Such a charming man, is he not? So -distinguished!" - -She paused for breath, and Katharine murmured an acknowledgment of Mr. -Wilton's distinction. - -"To come to the point, my dear Miss Austen, I should be charmed, quite -charmed, if you would take the senior work this term,--English in all -its branches, French translation, Latin, and drawing. I think you know -the curriculum, do you not? Thank you very much; that is so good of -you! Did you have a pleasant holiday? There is no need to ask how you -are,--the very picture of health, I am sure! And the architecture -lectures, too; I should be more than grateful if you would continue -them as before. Thank you so much-- Ah, I beg your pardon?" - -Katharine here made a desperate inroad into the torrent of words, and -mentioned that she knew no Latin and had never taught any drawing. - -"Indeed? But you are too modest, my dear Miss Austen; it is your one -failing, if I may say so. Of course, if you wish--then let it be so. -But I am convinced you would do both as well as Miss Smithson, quite -convinced. However, that can easily be arranged. The salary I think -you know, and the lectures will be as before. Indeed, we are most -fortunate to have so delightful a lecturer, most fortunate. Ah, there -is one more thing," continued Mrs. Downing, leading her towards the -door. The rest of her speech was said on the landing which happened, -fortunately, to be empty. "This is between ourselves, my dear Miss -Austen,--quite between ourselves. I should be more than grateful if -you would act as chaperon to the music master this term. It may appear -strange that I should ask you to do this,--indeed, I may say peculiar; -but I do so in the conviction that I can trust you better than any one -else. Of course you will not mention what I have said! I am sure you -understand what I mean. That is so charming of you! Thank you so -much!" - -And the lady principal returned to say very much the same thing over -again to the next teacher whom she summoned. But Katharine, who had -long since learnt to regard her insincerity as inevitable, merely -congratulated herself on the practical results of her interview, and -thoroughly enjoyed the contest that ensued when her new pupils found -they were going to be taught by a junior mistress. She felt very -elated when she came out of it victorious; and for the next week or -two everything seemed to go well with her. She had made a position for -herself, although every one had told her it would be impossible; there -were people who believed in her thoroughly, and there were others, -like Ted and Phyllis Hyam, who did not understand her but worshipped -her blindly. It was all very gratifying to her, after the dull month -she had spent at home; and for the first time she threw off the -reserve she usually showed, though unconsciously, towards the working -gentlewomen of Queen's Crescent, and talked about herself in a way -that astonished them not a little. Work to them was a sordid -necessity, and they were a little jealous of this brilliant girl, with -the youth and the talent, who found no difficulty in winning success -where they had barely earned a living, and who seemed to enjoy her -life into the bargain. - -"Who is that girl with the jolly laugh and the untidy hair?" she -overheard a stranger asking Polly Newland one day. - -"That one?" was the reply, given in a contemptuous tone. "Oh, she's a -caution, I can tell you! Nice? Oh, I dare say! She's a prig, though. -Phyllis Hyam--that's the other girl in our room--thinks all the world -of her; but I can't stand prigs, myself." - -It was a little shock to her self-esteem to hear herself described so -baldly, though she consoled herself by the reflection that Polly had -never liked her, and there was consequently very little value to be -attached to her opinion. But she was careful to remain silent about -her own affairs for the next day or two; and she startled Ted, one -evening, by asking him suddenly, between the acts of a melodrama, what -was meant by a "prig." - -"A prig? Oh, I don't know! It's the same thing as a smug, isn't it?" - -"But what is a smug?" - -"Well, of course, a smug is--well, he's a smug, I suppose. He hasn't -got to be anything else, has he? He's a played-out sort of bounder, -who wants to have a good time and hasn't the pluck, don't you know?" - -"Are all prigs bounders?" asked Katharine, in a voice of dismay. - -"Oh, I expect so! It doesn't matter, does it? At least, there's a chap -in our office who is a bit of a prig, and he isn't a bounder exactly. -He's a very decent sort of chap, really; I don't half mind him, -myself. But they always call him a prig because he goes in for being -so mighty saintly; at least, that's what they say. I don't think he is -so bad as all that, myself." - -"Is it priggish to be good, then? I thought one ought to try." - -"My dear Kit, of course you are a girl; don't worry yourself about it. -It's altogether different for a girl, don't you see?" - -"Then girls are never prigs?" said Katharine eagerly. - -"Bless their hearts," said Ted vaguely; and she did not get any -further definition from him that evening. - -And so the days grew into weeks, and her life became filled with new -interests, and she told herself she was learning to live at last. But -she had her bad days, as well; and on these she felt that something -was still wanting in her life. And the end of February came, and Paul -Wilton had not yet returned to his chambers in Essex Court. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -The courts had just risen, and the barristers in their wigs and gowns -were hastening through the Temple on the way to their various -chambers. It was not a day on which to linger, for a pitiless east -wind swept across Fountain Court, making little eddies in the basin of -water where the goldfish swam, and swirling the dust into little -sandstorms to blind the shivering people who were using the -thoroughfare down to the Embankment. The city clocks were chiming the -quarter after four, as Paul Wilton came along with the precise and -measured step that never varied whatever the weather might be, and -mounted the wooden staircase that led to his rooms. A man rose from -his easiest chair as he walked into his sitting-room, and they greeted -one another in the cordial though restrained manner of men who had not -met for some time. - -"Sorry you've been waiting, Heaton. Been here long?" said Paul, -throwing off his gown with more rapidity than he usually showed. - -"Oh, no matter; my fault for getting here too early," returned Heaton -cheerily, as he sat down again and pulled his chair closer to the -fire. He never entered anybody's house without making elaborate -preparations to stay a long while. - -"Fact is," he continued, "it's so long since I saw you that, directly -I heard you were back, I felt I must come round and look you up. It -was young Linton who told me,--you remember Linton? Ran across him in -the club, last night; he knows some friends of yours,--Kerry, or -Keeley, or some such name as that; just been calling on them, -apparently, and they told him you had travelled back with them. -Suppose you know the people I mean?" - -Paul admitted that he knew the people he had been travelling with, and -Heaton rattled on afresh. - -"We were talking about you at the club, only the other afternoon; -coincidence, wasn't it? Two or three of us,--Marston, and Hallett, and -old Pryor. You remember old Pryor, don't you? Stock Exchange, and -swears a lot--ah, you know; he wanted to know what had become of you -and your damned career; it was a damned pity for the most brilliant -man at the bar, and the only one with a conscience, to be wasted on a -lot of damned foreigners, and so on. You know old Pryor. Of course I -agreed with him, but it wasn't my business to say so." - -He paused a little wistfully, as though he expected Paul to say -something to explain his long absence; but the latter only smiled -slightly, and walked across to his cupboard in the corner. - -"I'm going to have some tea," he observed, "but I don't expect you to -join me in that, Heaton. There's some vermuth here, Italian vermuth; -or, of course, you can have whiskey if you prefer it." - -"Thanks, my boy," laughed the other. "I'm glad to see that five months -in the infernal regions haven't spoilt your memory. Claret for boys, -brandy for heroes, eh?" - -He helped himself to whiskey, and then leaned back in his chair to -survey Paul, who was making a cigarette while the water boiled. There -was one of the long silences that were inevitable with Paul, unless -his companion took the initiative; and for the next five minutes the -only sounds to be heard were the singing of the kettle, the rise and -fall of footsteps in the court below, and the occasional rattle of the -window sash as the wind wrestled with it. Paul made the tea, and -brought his cup to the table, and flung himself at full length on the -sofa beside it. - -"Well," he said at last, "haven't you any news to tell me? Who is the -last charming lady you have been trotting round to all the picture -galleries,--the one who is more beautiful, and more intellectual, and -more sympathetic than any woman you have ever met?" - -Heaton laughed consciously. - -"Now, it's odd you should happen to say that," he said in his simple -manner. "Of course I know it's only your chaff, confound you, but -there _is_ just a smattering of truth in it. By Jove, Wilton, you must -come and meet her; you never saw such a figure, and she's the wittiest -creature I ever ran across! I'm nowhere, when it comes to talk; but -she's so kind to me, Wilton,--you can't think; I never met such a -sympathetic woman. Really, she has the most extraordinary effect upon -me; I haven't been so influenced by any woman since poor little May -died, 'pon my word I haven't. I can't think how it's all going to end, -I tell you I can't. It's giving me a lot of worry, I know." - -"Ah," said Paul gravely. "Widow?" - -"Her husband was a brute," said Heaton energetically. "Colonel in the -army, drank, used her villainously I expect, though she doesn't say -much; she's awfully staunch to the chap. Women are, you know; I can't -think why, when we treat them so badly. That's where they get their -hold over us, I suppose. But her influence over me is wonderful. I -wouldn't do anything to lose her respect, for the world." - -He blinked his eyes, and drank some more whiskey. Perhaps it occurred -to him that his companion was even less responsive than usual, for -there was more vigour and less sentiment in his tone when he resumed -the conversation. - -"You never tell me anything about yourself," he complained, rather -pathetically. "You draw me out, and I'm ass enough to be drawn; and -then you sit and smile cynically, while I make a fool of myself. How -about _your_ experiences, eh? 'Pon my word, I don't remember a single -instance of your giving me your confidence! You're such a rum, -reserved sort of chap. Well, I dare say you're right to keep it all to -yourself. It does me good to tell things; but then, I'm different." - -"My dear fellow, I've nothing to tell," replied Paul, smiling. "You -forget that my life is not full of the charming experiences that seem -to fall so continually to your lot. And your conversation is so much -more interesting than mine would be, that I prefer to listen; that's -all. I'm not secretive; I have merely nothing to secrete." - -"That's all very well," said Heaton, shaking his head; "but I'm older -than you, so that won't wash. You should have heard what those fellows -at the club were saying about you." - -"Yes? It doesn't interest me in the least," said Paul coldly. But tact -was not the strong point of his friend's character, and he went on, -notwithstanding. - -"Of course I didn't say much,--it isn't my way; besides, you know I -think you're always right in the main. But it's enough to make fellows -talk, when a man like you, who always sets his career before his -pleasure, goes away out of the vacation, and stays away all these -months. You must own it's reasonable to speculate a little; it's only -in man's nature." - -"Some men's," said Paul, as coldly as before. "I should never dream of -speculating about anybody's course of action, myself." - -"No, no, of course not; I quite agree with you, quite," said Heaton. -"By the way," he added, with bland innocence in his expression, "what -sort of people are these Kerrys you have been travelling with? An old -married couple of sorts, I suppose!" - -Paul raised himself on his elbow and drank his tea straight off, as -though he had not heard the question. He was always divided, in his -conversations with Heaton, between a desire to snub him and a fear of -wounding his sensitiveness. - -"You haven't told me the charming widow's name," he said, dropping -back into his former position. The other man's face brightened, and -the conversation again became a monologue until even Heaton's -prosiness was exhausted, and silence fell upon them both. And then, -very characteristically, as soon as he was quite sure he was not -expected to say anything, Paul suddenly became communicative. - -"The Keeleys are rather nice people," he observed, taking his -cigarette out of his mouth and staring fixedly at the lighted end of -it. "Mother and daughter, you know, just abroad for the winter. Nice -little place in Herefordshire, I believe, but they come to town for -the season,--Curzon Street." - -Heaton was wise enough to remain silent; and Paul went on, after a -pause. - -"Sat next to them at table d'hôte, and that sort of thing. One is -always glad of a compatriot abroad, don't you know! And the mother was -really rather nice," he added, as an afterthought. - -"And what was the daughter like?" asked Heaton. - -"Oh, just an ordinary amusing sort of girl! She's pretty, too, in a -sort of way, but I don't admire that kind of thing much, myself. And I -think she found me very dull." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "I -must take you there when they come up to town, Heaton. You'd get on -with them, and the girl is just your style, I fancy. She is really -very pretty," he added, becoming thoughtful again. - -"Nothing I should like better! Delightful of you to think of it!" -exclaimed Heaton, with a warmth that was a little overdone. His want -of a sense of proportion was always an annoyance to Paul. "You take me -there, that's all," he said, chuckling; "and let me have my head--" - -"Which is precisely what you wouldn't have," said Paul drily. "And I'm -sure I don't know why you want to know them; they are quite ordinary -people, and don't possess every grace and virtue and talent, like all -your other lady friends. However, I shall be very pleased if you -really care about it. But you'll be disappointed." - -Heaton agreed to be disappointed, and as another pause seemed -imminent, he began to think about taking his departure. But Paul did -not notice his intention, and seized the occasion to start a new -subject. - -"Look here, Heaton," he began, so suddenly that the elder man sat down -again with precision; "you say I never tell you anything about my -experiences. Does that mean that you really think I have anything to -tell?" - -Heaton looked at him dubiously. - -"I'm hanged if I know," he said. - -Paul smiled, a little regretfully. - -"After years of renunciation," he murmured, "to be merely accounted a -riddle! Then you think," he continued, with an interested expression, -"that I am not the sort of man women would care about, eh? Well, I -dare say you're right. But then, why do they ever care for any of us? -I never expect them to, personally." - -Heaton was looking at him in a perplexed manner. - -"Perhaps I didn't express myself quite clearly," he hastened to say, -with his usual wish to compromise. "I only meant that I sometimes -think you never can have cared for any one seriously. But I've no -doubt I'm wrong. And I never said that nobody had ever cared for -_you_; I think that's extremely unlikely. In fact-- Do you really want -me to say what I think?" - -"It would be most interesting," said Paul, still smiling. - -"Well," said Heaton decidedly, "I think you're the sort of man who -would break a woman's heart and spare her reputation, and perhaps not -discover that she liked you at all. I know what women are, and they -just love to pine away for a man like you who would never dream of -giving them any encouragement. And you have such a fascinating way -with you that you just lead them on, without meaning to in the least. -You can curse, if you like, Wilton; it's great impertinence on my -part, eh?" - -"My dear fellow," was all Paul said. As a matter of fact, he had never -liked him better than he did at that moment, and his words had set him -thinking. But Heaton's next remark undid the good impression he had -unwittingly made. - -"The fact is," he said, "a woman's reputation is worth only half as -much to her as her happiness." - -And his worldly wisdom jarred on Paul's nerves, and sounded -unnecessarily coarse to him in his present mood; and he did not try to -detain him again, when Heaton rose for the second time to take his -leave. When he had gone, Paul strolled to the window-seat and smoked -another cigarette, looking down into the wind-swept court. And his -thoughts deliberately turned to Katharine Austen. He had not seen her -for five months, he had not written to her for two, and her last -letter to him was dated six weeks back. It had not occurred to him, -until he drew it from his pocket now and looked at it, that it was -really so long as that since she had written to him; and he became -suddenly possessed of a wish to know what those six weeks had held for -her. Out there in the orange groves of the South, walking by the side -of the beautiful Marion Keeley, with the rustle of her skirts so close -to him and the shallow levity of her conversation in his ears, it had -been easy to forget the desperately earnest child who was toiling away -to earn her living in the dullest quarter of a dull city. But here, -where she had so often sat and talked to him, where they had loved to -quarrel and to make it up again, where she had given him rare -glimpses of her quaint self and then hastily hidden it from him again, -where she had been whimsical and serious by turns, where he had -sometimes kissed her and felt her cheek warm at his touch,--here, all -sorts of memories rushed back into his mind, and made him wonder why -he had yielded so easily to the persuasions of the Keeleys, and -remained so long away from England. It was impossible to name Marion -Keeley in the same breath with this curiously lovable child who had -held him in her sway all last summer, who had never used an art to -draw him to her, and yet had succeeded, by force of qualities that she -did not know she possessed, in gaining his sincere affection. Yet he -had hardly thought of her for two months, and she had not written to -him for six weeks. What had she been doing in those six weeks? It had -not seemed to matter, when he walked by the side of Marion Keeley, how -Katharine was passing her time in London; but now that Marion was no -longer near him, now that he was free from her fascination and the -necessity of replying to her banalities, it suddenly became of the -first importance to him to know what had happened to Katharine in -those six weeks. He had gone away, he told himself, because he had -taken fright at the situation, because he could not analyse his own -feelings for her, because everything, in the eyes of the world, was -hurrying them on to marriage,--and of marriage he had the profoundest -dread. And he had allowed himself to be captivated almost immediately, -by the ordinary beauty of an ordinary girl, someone who knew how to -play upon a certain set of his emotions which Katharine had never -learnt to touch. An expression of distaste crossed his face as he -threw away his cigarette only half smoked, and looked down at the -fountain as he had so often stood and looked with her in the hot days -of last July. Heaton's words returned to his mind with a new -significance: "Their reputation is worth only half as much to them as -their happiness." He remembered how he had parted from Katharine in -this very room, before he went abroad; and how he had congratulated -himself afterwards on having refrained from kissing her. But he had a -sudden recollection now of the look on her face as she turned away -from him; and, for the first time, he thought he understood its -meaning. - -He had never acted on an impulse in his life, before, nor yielded to a -wish he could not analyse; but this afternoon he did both. It was -about an hour later that Phyllis Hyam strolled into Katharine's -cubicle with the announcement that a gentleman was in the hall, -waiting to speak to her. - -"Bother!" grumbled Katharine, who was correcting exercises on the bed. -"He never said he was coming to-night." - -"It isn't Mr. Morton," volunteered Phyllis, from behind her own -curtain. "I've never seen him before. He's tall, and thin, and serious -looking, with a leathery sort of face, and a dear little fizzly -beard." - -She made a few more gratuitous remarks on the gentleman in the hall, -until she began to wonder why she received no reply to them, and then -made the discovery that the occupant of the neighbouring cubicle was -no longer there. - -Paul was already regretting his impulse. He had never been inside the -little distempered hall before, and it struck a feeling of chill into -him. A good many girls came in at the door while he was waiting, and -they all stared at him inquiringly, and most of them were dull -looking. He remembered the sumptuous house in Mayfair that would soon -contain Marion Keeley, and he shuddered a little. - -"I don't think I should like to live with working-women much," he -said, when Katharine came running down the wooden stairs. - -It was the only remark that came easily to him, when he felt the warm -clasp of her hand and saw the glad look in her eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -She was looking rather tired, he thought, when he examined her more -critically; her eyes seemed larger, and her expression had grown -restless, and she had lost some of the roundness of her face. But she -had gained a good deal in repose of manner; and her voice, when she -answered him, was more under control at the moment than his own. - -"I shouldn't think you would," she laughed. "I shocked them all at -breakfast, this morning, by saying I should like to try idle men for a -change!" - -It struck him that she would not have made such a remark when he left -her last autumn; and again he would have liked to possess a chronicle -of the last six weeks. But her laugh was the same as ever, and her -hand was still grasping his with a reassuring fervour. - -"Come back with me," he said, spontaneously. "We can't talk here, can -we? I dare say I can knock up some sort of a supper for you, if you -don't mind a very primitive arrangement." - -"It will be beautiful," she said; and the throb of pleasure in her -voice allayed his last feeling of suspicion. - -They found that, after all, they had very little to say to one -another; and they were both glad of the occupation of preparing -supper, when they arrived at the Temple and found that the housekeeper -had gone out for the evening. They made as much fun as they could over -the difficulties of procuring a meal, and avoided personal topics with -a scrupulous care, and did not once run the risk of looking each other -in the face. And afterwards, when they had made themselves comfortable -in two chairs near the lamp and conversation became inevitable, an -awkward embarrassment seized them both. - -"It's very odd," said Katharine, frowning a little; "but I have been -bottling up things to tell you for weeks, and now they seem to have -got congested in my brain and I can't get one of them out. Why is it, -I wonder? I can't have grown suddenly shy of you; but we seem to have -lost touch, somehow. Oh, it's queer; I don't like it!" - -She gave herself a little shake. Paul laughed slightly. - -"What an absurd child you are! It is only because we have not been -together lately, and so we've lost the trick of it. You are always -turning yourself inside out, and then sitting down a little way off to -look at it." - -"I believe I do," owned Katharine. "I always want to know why certain -things affect me in certain ways." - -"Did you want to know why you were glad to see me, this evening?" - -She looked up quickly at him for the first time. - -"No," she said, frankly. "At least, I don't think I thought about it." - -"Good child!" he said. "Don't think about it." And she wondered why he -looked so pleased. - -"Why not?" she asked him. "Please tell me." - -"Oh, because it isn't good for you to be always turning yourself -inside out; certainly not on my account. Besides, it spoils things. -Don't you think so?" - -"What things?" - -"Oh, please! I'm not here to answer such a lot of puzzling questions. -Who has been getting you into such bad habits, while I have been -away?" - -"Nobody who could answer any of my puzzling questions," she replied, -softly; and Paul asked hastily if she would make the coffee. He had -fetched her here as an experiment, a kind of test of his own feelings -and of hers; and he had a sudden fear lest it should succeed too -effectually. She went obediently and did as she was told, and brought -him his coffee when it was ready; and he submitted to having sugar in -it, since it compelled her to brush his hair with her sleeve as she -bent over him with the sugar basin. - -"Well?" he asked, in the next pause. She was balancing her spoon on -the edge of her cup, with a curious smile on her face. - -"Oh, nothing!" - -"Nothing must be very interesting, then. But I don't suppose I have -any right to know. Have I?" - -The spoon dropped on the floor with a clatter. - -"Of course you have! I wish you wouldn't say those things! They hurt -so. I was only thinking,--it wasn't anything important, but--I'm so -awfully happy to-night." - -"But that is surely of the very first importance. Might one know why? -Or is that some one else's secret, too?" - -She disturbed his composure by suddenly pushing her coffee away from -her; and there was an angry light in her eyes, as she sprang to her -feet and stood looking down at him. - -"Sometimes I think I hate you," she said; and the words struck him as -being strangely inadequate to the occasion. They might have been -spoken by a petulant child, and the moment before he had felt that she -was a woman. He put his cup down too, and went towards her. - -"Does sometimes mean now?" he asked jestingly. He was trying, -impotently, to prevent her from going any farther. But she took a step -backward, and did not heed his intention. - -"Yes, it does," she said, angrily. "I am tired of being treated like a -child; I am tired of letting you do what you like with me. One day you -spoil me; and another, you hurt me cruelly. And you don't care a -little bit. I am a kind of amusement to you, an interesting puzzle, a -toy that doesn't seem to break easily; that's all. And I just let you -do it,--it is my own fault; when you hurt me I hide what I feel, and -when you are nice to me I forget everything else. Oh, yes, of course I -am a fool; do you think I don't know it? You have only to touch my -face, or to look at me, or to smile, and you know I am in your hands. -I despise myself for it; I would give all I know to be strong enough -to put you out of my life. But I can't do it, I can't! And you know I -can't; you know I am bound up in you. Everything I feel seems to be -yours; all my thoughts seem to belong to you, directly they come into -my head; I can't take the smallest step without wondering what you -will think of it. Oh, I hate myself for it; you don't know how I hate -myself! But I can't help it." - -"Stop," said Paul, putting out his hand. But she waved him away, and -went on talking rapidly. - -"I must say it all now; it has been driving me mad lately. At first, -it seemed so easy to get on without you; but it grew much harder as it -went on, and when you stopped writing to me, I--I thought I should go -mad. It was so awful, too, when I had got used to telling you things; -there was no one else I could tell things to, and the loneliness of it -was so terrible! I wanted to kill myself, those days; but I was too -big a coward. So I got along somehow; and some days it was easier than -others, but it was always hard. Only, nobody ever guessed. Oh, if you -knew how I have learnt to deceive people! And there was always my work -to get through, as well; it has been horrible. And I could no more -help it than I could help breathing. I wanted to kill myself!" - -"Don't," half whispered Paul, and he came a little nearer to her. But -she turned and leaned against the mantel-shelf for support, and -clasped the cold marble with her fingers. - -"I must say it, Paul. If you like, I will go away afterwards and never -see you again. But I cannot let it spoil my life any longer; I feel as -though you had got to hear it _now_. When I wrote you that last -letter, I said that if you did not answer it I would not write to you -again, or think about you, or come and see you any more. And you -didn't answer it. I got to loathe the postman's knock, because it made -my face hot, and I was afraid people would find out. But they never -did! I came down to breakfast every day, in the hope of finding a -letter from you; and when there wasn't one, and everything seemed a -blank,--oh, don't I know the awful look of that dining-room when -there isn't a letter from you!--I just had to pretend that I hadn't -expected to find one at all." She paused expectantly, but this time -Paul made no attempt to speak. "I was never any good at pretending, -before," she went on in a gentler tone, "but I believe I could deceive -any one now. Only, I never succeeded in cheating myself! I used to -find out new ways to school, because the old ones reminded me of you; -and I had to do all my crying in omnibuses, at the far end up by the -horses, because I dare not do it at Queen's Crescent, where I might -have been seen. For I did cry sometimes." Her voice trembled, and she -ended with a little sob. She buried her face in her hands. - -"So that is what you have been doing for these six weeks?" said Paul, -involuntarily. - -"Do you find it so amusing, then?" asked Katharine in a stifled tone. -He stepped up behind her, and twisted her round gently by the -shoulders, so that she was obliged to look at him. The hardness went -from her face, and she held out her hands to him instinctively. -"Paul," she said, piteously, "I couldn't help it. Aren't you a little -bit sorry for me? What have I done that I should like the wrong -person? Other girls don't do these things. Am I awfully wicked, or -awfully unlucky? Paul, say something to me! Are you very angry with -me? But I couldn't help it, I couldn't indeed! I have tried so hard to -make myself different, and I can't!" - -He bit his lip and tried to say something, but failed. - -"And after all," she added in a low tone, "when I had been schooling -myself to hate you for six weeks, I nearly went mad with joy when -Phyllis came and told me you were in the hall. Oh, Paul, I know I am -dreadfully foolish! Will you ever respect me again, I wonder?" - -There was a quaint mixture of humour and pathos in her tone; and he -gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, without finding -any words with which to answer her. She clung to him, and kissed him -for the first time in return, and forgot that she had once thought it -wrong to be caressed by him; just now, it seemed the most natural -thing in the world that he should be comforting her for the suffering -of which he himself was the cause. And her passionate wish to rouse -him from his apathy had ended in a weak desire to regain his tolerance -at any cost. - -"You are not angry with me? I haven't made you angry?" she asked him -in an anxious whisper. - -"No, no, you foolish child!" was all he said as he drew her closer. - -"But it was dreadful of me to say all those things to you, wasn't it?" - -"I like you to say dreadful things to me, dear." - -She swayed back from him at that, with her two hands on his shoulders. - -"Do you mean that, really? But--you _must_ think it dreadfully wicked -of me to let you kiss me, and to come and see you like this? It is -dreadfully wicked, isn't it? Oh, I know it is; everybody would say -so." - -"I can't imagine what you mean. You are a dear little Puritan to me. -You don't know what you are saying. Come, there are all those things -you have got to tell me. I want to hear everything, please; whom you -have been flirting with, and all sorts of things. Now, it is no use -your pretending that you are going to hide anything from me, because -you know you can't!" - -He had resumed his former manner with a rather conscious effort, and -drew her down beside him on the sofa. She tried to obey him, but she -could think of very little to say; and towards ten o'clock, Paul -looked at his watch. - -"My child, you must go," he said. Katharine rose to her feet with a -sigh. - -"I don't want to go," she said, reluctantly. - -"Has it been nice, then?" he asked, smiling at her dejected face. - -"It has been the happiest evening I have ever spent," she said, -looking away from him. - -"Surely not!" laughed Paul. "Think of all the other evenings at the -theatre, with Ted and Monty and all the rest of them!" - -"You know quite well," she said indignantly, "that I like being with -you better than with any one else in the world. You know I do, don't -you?" she repeated, anxiously. - -"It is enough for me that you say so," replied Paul; and they stood -silent for a moment or two. "Come, you really must go, child," he said -again. Katharine still remained motionless, while he put on his coat. - -"Must I?" she said, dreamily. He came back to her and gave her a -gentle shake. - -"What is it, you strange little person? I believe you would have been -much happier if I had not come back to bother you, eh?" - -She denied it vehemently, and exerted herself to talk to him all the -way home in the cab. She was solemn again, however, when the time -came to say good-bye. - -"May I see you again soon?" she asked him wistfully. - -"Why, surely! We are going to have lots of larks together, aren't we? -Well, what is it now?" - -"Oh, I was only thinking!" - -"What about?" - -She unlocked the door with her latch-key before she replied. - -"It seems so odd," she said, "that I care more about your opinion than -about anybody else's in the whole world; and yet I have given you the -most reason to think badly of me. Isn't it awfully queer?" - -She shut the door before he had time to answer her. And Paul walked -home, reflecting on the futility of experiments. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -The Sunday afternoon on which the Honourable Mrs. Keeley gave her -first reception, that season, was a singularly dull and sultry one. -The room was filled with celebrities and their satellites; and -Katharine's head was aching badly, as she struggled with difficulty -through the crowd and managed to squeeze herself into a corner by the -open window. She was always affected by the weather; and to-day, she -felt unusually depressed by the absence of sunshine. A voice from the -balcony uttered her name, and she turned round with a sigh, to be met -by the complacent features of Laurence Heaton. For a moment she did -not recognise him; and then, the sound of his voice carried her back -to Ivingdon, and she smiled back at him for the sake of the -associations he brought to her mind. - -"Is it really two years?" he was saying. "Seems impossible when I look -at your face, Miss Austen. Two years! And what have you been doing -with yourself all this time, eh? And how do you contrive to look so -fresh on a day like this? I am quite charmed to have this opportunity -of renewing so pleasant an acquaintance." - -He forgot that, when he had known her before, she had annoyed him by -not being in his style. And Katharine answered him vaguely, while her -eyes wandered over the crowd of faces; for Paul had told her he was -going to be there, and she felt restless. - -"Small place the world is, to be sure," continued Heaton, with the air -of a man who says something that has not been said before. "Who would -have expected you to turn up at my old friends', the Keeleys'? Most -curious coincidence, I must say!" Katharine, who knew of his very -recent introduction to the house, explained her own relationship -demurely. But her companion was quite unabashed, and changed the -conversation skilfully. - -"Wilton often comes here, he tells me. You remember Wilton, don't you? -Ah, of course you do, since it is to him that I owe your charming -acquaintance," he said, gallantly. "He met them at Nice, or somewhere. -Astonishing how many people one meets at Nice! Wilton always meets -every one, though, and every one likes him; he's so brilliant, don't -you think? Yes, brilliant exactly describes him. Ever seen him since -he stayed in your delightful rural home?" - -"Oh, I see him here sometimes. And my aunt is expecting him to-day, I -believe." - -"I have no doubt of it, no doubt of it whatever!" smiled Heaton, -nodding his head wisely. "If I'm not very much mistaken, Wilton is -often the guest of Mrs. Keeley, is he not?" - -The meaning in his remarks was wasted on Katharine, for most of her -attention was still concentrated on the doorway. But Heaton, to whom -she was more of an excuse than a reason for conversation, rambled on -contentedly. - -"Nice fellow, Wilton, to bring me here, pretending he wanted me to -know her! Not much chance of that, I fancy! I haven't had two words -with her since I first called here with him, three weeks ago. Ah, -well, I mustn't be surprised at that,--an old fellow like me; though I -would have you know, Miss Austen, that I am still young enough to -admire the charms of a beautiful woman! But it is amusing, all the -same, to watch how a serious fellow like Wilton suddenly forgets all -his prejudices against marriage, and behaves like every one else. If -it had been me, now--but then, I'm a marrying man, and I've had two of -the sweetest wives God ever gave to erring man-- Ah, I beg your -pardon?" - -"I--I don't quite understand," said Katharine. - -"Nobody does, my dear young lady; nobody does. It is impossible to -understand a clever, quiet sort of chap like Wilton. To begin with, he -doesn't mean you to. But I'm heartily glad he has made such a -fortunate choice; he is an old friend of mine, and my friends' -happiness is always my happiness. He is lucky, for all that; beauty -and money and influence, all combined in one charming person, are not -to be despised, are they? She is so sweet, too; and sweetness in a -woman is worth all the virtues put together, don't you agree with me? -Now, tell me,--woman's opinion is always worth having,--do you -consider her so very pretty?" - -"I don't know whom you mean," said Katharine. She was wishing he would -take his idle chatter away to some one else. But Heaton was accustomed -to inattention on the part of his hearers, and he was not disconcerted -by hers. - -"Why, the beautiful Miss Keeley, to be sure," he replied. "For all -that," he added, hastily, "I think she is rather overrated, don't -you?" This was meant to be very cunning, for he prided himself on -being an accomplished lady's man. But Katharine's reply baffled him. - -"Do you mean Marion? I think she is beautiful," she said, warmly. "I -am not surprised that every one should admire her." - -"Just so, just so; quite my view of the case!" exclaimed Heaton, at -once. "I call her unique, don't you? 'Pon my word, I never felt more -pleased at anything in my life! What a future for Wilton, with the -Honourable Mrs. Keeley for a mother-in-law, and her beautiful daughter -for a wife; why, we shall see him in Parliament before long! The -Attorney-General of the future,--there's no doubt about it. Ah, I see -you are smiling at my enthusiasm, Miss Austen. That is because you do -not know me well enough to realise how much my friends are to me. All -the real happiness in my life comes from my friends, it does indeed. -But I am boring you with this dull conversation about myself. Come -along with me, and I'll see where the ices are to be found. Young -people always like ices, eh?" - -And she yielded to his kindly good-nature, even while she felt -indignant with him for spreading such an absurd piece of gossip. And -what had Paul been doing, to allow such an idea to take root in his -foolish old head? He had known nothing of the rumour on Wednesday, for -she had been to a concert with him then, and he had never once alluded -to her cousin. Of course, it was ridiculous to give it another -thought, and she roused herself to chatter gaily to her companion as -they slowly made their way downstairs. - -But, as she stood in the crowded dining-room, wedged between the table -and Heaton who was occupied for the moment in seeking for champagne -cup, she became again the unwilling hearer of that same absurd piece -of gossip. It sounded less blatant, perhaps, from the lips of the two -magnificent dowagers who were lightly discussing it, but it was hardly -less vulgar in its essence; and Katharine ceased to be gay, and shrank -instinctively away from them. - -"Who is he? I seem to know the name, but I never remember meeting him -anywhere. Surely her mother would not throw her away on a nobody? She -expects such great things from Marion, one is always led to believe; -though she is just the sort of girl to end in being a disappointment, -don't you think so?" - -"My dear, it is a _fait accompli_, and he is not a nobody at all. He -would not visit here if he were; at least, not seriously. His name is -Wilton,--something Wilton, Peter or Paul or one of the apostles, I -forget which. He belongs to a very good Yorkshire family, I am told. -His father was a bishop, or it may have been a canon; at all events, -he was not an ordinary person. Mr. Wilton, this one, is one of our -rising men, I believe,--a lawyer, or a barrister, or something of that -sort. He defended the plaintiff in the Christopher case, don't you -remember? And with Mrs. Keeley to back him up, he will soon be in the -front rank,--there is no doubt about that. They always ice the coffee -too much here, don't they? Have you seen Marion to-day?" - -"Yes. She's over there in the same green silk. Wonderful hair, isn't -it? A little too red for my taste, but any one can see it is -wonderful. He's over there too, but you can't see him from here. He is -much older than Marion, and delicate looking. I shouldn't like a child -of mine to marry him, but that's another matter. And, of course, all -_my_ girls were so particular about looks. How insufferably hot it -is! Shall we go upstairs?" - -Laurence Heaton had a second glass of champagne cup, and when he had -drunk it he found that Katharine was gone. He dismissed her from his -mind without any difficulty, however, and fought his way upstairs to -find some one who was more to his taste. He certainly did not connect -her disappearance with his gossip, nor yet with his old friend, Paul -Wilton. - -And Katharine could not have told him herself why she had slipped away -so abruptly. Of course, the rumour was not true; she did not believe a -word of it; and it was disloyal to Paul even to be annoyed by it. But -it was disquieting, all the same, to hear his name so persistently -coupled with her cousin's; and she wondered if her aunt knew any of -his views against marriage, to which she had been so often a humble -listener. And it was equally certain that he was one of the most -rising men of the day; she did not want to be told that by a number of -society gossips, who had never even heard of him until he paid his -attentions to one of their set,--just the ordinary attentions of a -courteous man to a beautiful woman. Had he not repeatedly told her -that she knew more about his real life and his real self, more about -his ambition and his work, than any one else in the world? He had -chosen her out of all his friends for a confidant; and yet, she might -not even acknowledge her friendship for him. He only trifled with -Marion, teased her about the number of her admirers, talked to her -about the colour of her hair, and the daintiness of her appearance; he -had told her that, too. Marion knew nothing of his aspirations; she -would not understand them, if she did. And yet it was common talk that -he admired Marion, while _she_ was to make a secret of her intimacy -with him. Something of the old feeling of rebellion against him, which -had been dead ever since the evening they had supped together in his -chambers, was in her mind as she left the house where he was sitting -with Marion, and walked aimlessly towards the park. The sun had -completely vanished in a dull red mist; and the intense heat and lurid -atmosphere did not tend to raise her spirits. A nameless feeling of -impending trouble crept over her, and she felt powerless to shake it -off. She wandered along the edge of the crowds as they listened to the -labour agitators, past groups of children playing on the grass, past -endless pairs of lovers in their Sunday garments, until the noisy -tramp of footsteps began to grate upon her nerves; and she turned and -fled from the park, as she had fled from Curzon Street. Something at -last took her towards the Temple, and an hour later she was knocking -furtively at the door of Paul's chambers. She had never been there on -a Sunday before, and the deserted look of the courts, and the silk -dress of the housekeeper whom she met on the stairs, depressed her -still further. Would she come in and wait, the housekeeper suggested, -as Mr. Wilton was out, and had not said when he would be back? But -Katharine shook her head wearily, and turned her face homewards. Even -the solitude of Queen's Crescent could not be worse than the -unfriendliness of the deserted London streets. She went out of her way -to walk down Curzon Street, without knowing why she did so, and took -the trouble to cross over to the side opposite her aunt's house, also -without a definite purpose in her mind. It was not much after eight, -but the storm was still gathering, and there was only just enough -daylight left to show the figure of a girl on the balcony. It was -Marion, beyond any doubt Marion, who was leaning forward and looking -down into the street as though she expected to see some one come out -of the house. The front door opened, and a man came down the steps; -he looked up and raised his hat, and lingered; and Marion glanced -hastily around, kissed her fingers to him, and vanished indoors. The -man walked away down the street with a leisurely step, and Katharine -stepped back into the shadow of the portico. But her caution was quite -unnecessary, for neither of them had noticed her. - -For the second time that evening Katharine knocked gently at the door -of Paul's chambers in the Temple. This time, he opened to her himself. - -"Good heavens!" he was startled into exclaiming. "What in the name of -wonder has brought you here at this time of night? It is to be hoped -you didn't meet any one on the stairs, did you?" - -He motioned her in as he spoke, and shut the door. Katharine walked -past him in a half-dazed kind of way. There had been only two feelings -expressed in his face, and one was surprise, and the other annoyance. - -"What is it, Katharine? Has anything gone wrong?" he demanded in his -low, masterful tone. Katharine turned cold; she had never realised -before how pitilessly masterful his tone was. - -"I couldn't help coming,--I was so miserable! They were all saying -things about you, things that were not true. And I wanted to hear you -say they were not true. I couldn't rest; so I came. Are you angry with -me for coming, Paul?" - -She faltered out the words, without looking at him. Paul shrugged his -shoulders, but she did not see the movement. - -"It was hardly worth while, was it, to risk your reputation merely to -confirm what you had already settled in your own mind?" - -She opened her eyes, and stared at him hopelessly. Paul walked away to -look for some cigarette papers in the pocket of a coat. - -"Was it?" he repeated, with his back turned to her. Katharine -struggled to answer him. - -"You have never spoken to me like that, before," she stammered at -last. - -"You have never given me any cause, have you?" said Paul, rather -awkwardly. - -"But what have I done?" she asked, taking a step towards him. "I -didn't know you would mind. I always come to you when I am unhappy; -you told me I might. And I was unhappy this evening; so I came. Why -should it be different this evening? I don't understand what you mean. -Why are you angry with me? You have never been angry before. What have -I done?" - -"My dear child, there is no occasion for heroics," said Paul, speaking -very gently. "I am not angry with you at all. But you must own that it -is at least unusual to call upon a man, uninvited, at this unearthly -hour. And hadn't you better sit down, now you have come?" - -Katharine did not move. - -"What does it matter if it is unusual?" she asked. "You know I have -been here sometimes, as late as this, before. There is no harm in it, -is there? Paul! tell me what I have done to annoy you?" - -Paul gave up rummaging in his coat pocket, and came and sat on the -edge of the table, and made a cigarette. - -"I seem to remember having this same argument with you before," he -observed. "Don't you think it is rather futile to go all through it -again? You know quite well that it is entirely for your sake that I -wish to be careful. Hadn't we better change the subject? If you are -going to stop, you might be more comfortable in a chair." - -Katharine clenched her hands in the effort to keep back her tears. - -"I am not going to stay," she cried, miserably. "I can't understand -why you are so cruel to me; I think it must amuse you to hurt me. Why -do you ask me to come and see you sometimes, quite as late as this, -and then object to my coming to-night? I don't know what you mean." - -Paul lighted his cigarette before he answered her. - -"You have quite a talent, Katharine, for asking uncomfortable -questions. If you cannot see the difference between coming when you -are asked, and coming uninvited, I am afraid I cannot help you. Would -you like any coffee or anything?" - -All at once her brain began to clear. For two hours she had been -wandering aimlessly through the streets, in a strange bewilderment of -mind, not knowing why she was there nor where she was going. Then she -had found herself in Fleet Street; and habit, rather than intention, -had brought her to the Temple. And now his maddening indifference had -touched her pride, and her deadened faculties began slowly to revive -under the shock. She put her fingers over her eyes, and tried to -think. The blood rushed to her face, and she thrilled all over with a -passionate instinct of resistance. He did not know what to make of -her, when she stepped suddenly in front of him and faced him -unflinchingly. - -"You must not expect me to see the difference," she said, proudly. "I -shall never understand why I have to make a secret of what is not -wrong, nor why you allow me to do it at all if it is wrong. I think -you have been playing with my friendship all the time; I can see now -that you have not valued it, because I gave it you so freely. But I -didn't know that; I wasn't clever enough; and I had never liked -anybody but you. I didn't know that I ought to hide it, and pretend -that I didn't like you. Perhaps, if I had done that you would have -gone on liking me." - -He was going to interrupt her, but she did not give him time. - -"Would you ask Marion Keeley to come and see you, as you have asked -me?" - -Paul's face grew dark, and she trembled suddenly at her own boldness. - -"I fail to see how such a question can interest either of us," he -said, coldly. - -"But would you ask her?" she repeated. - -"I am perfectly assured," he replied, quietly, "that if I were to -forget myself so far as to do so, Miss Keeley would certainly not -come." - -"Then you mean to say that it has always been dreadfully wrong of _me_ -to come?" - -"Really, Katharine, you are very quarrelsome this evening," said Paul, -with a forced laugh. "I have repeatedly pointed out to you that a man -chooses some of his friends for pleasure, and others for business. I -really fail to see why I should be subjected to this minute catechism -at your hands." - -"Then you chose Marion--for business? It is true, then, what they -said! I wish--oh, I wish you had never chosen me--for pleasure!" - -The anger had died out of her voice; he could hardly hear what she -said; but he made a last attempt to treat the matter lightly. - -"I really think, my child, that any comparison between you and your -cousin is unnecessary," he began in a conciliating manner. - -"I thought so too, until to-day," she replied, piteously. - -"But what has happened to-day to put you in this uncomfortable frame -of mind?" - -"It is what every one is saying about you and Marion,--all those -horrid people, and Mr. Heaton, and everybody. I want to know if it is -true. Everything is going wrong, everywhere. I wish I were dead! I -came to ask you if it is true; I thought I might do that; I thought I -knew you well enough. I didn't know you would mind. If you like, I -will go away now, and never come and see you any more, or bother you, -or let you know that I care for you so awfully. Only, tell me first, -Paul, whether it is true or not?" - -Her voice had risen, as she went on, and it ended full of passionate -entreaty. The stern look on his face deepened, but he did not speak. - -"I wish I knew the meaning of it all," she continued, relentlessly as -it seemed to him. "I wish it were easier to like the right people, and -to hate all the others. Why was I made the wrong way? If I had never -wanted to like you, it would have been so simple. It would not have -mattered, then, that you did not really care for me. But I wish I -understood you better. Why did you tell me that you wanted me for your -friend, always; and that you didn't believe in marriage, and those -things? I believed you so, Paul; and I was content to be your friend; -you know I was, don't you? And now you have met Marion, and she is -beautiful, and she can help you to get on, to become one of the first -men in the country, they said. And you have forgotten all about your -views against marriage; and you allow people to talk as though you -were making a kind of bargain. Oh, it is horrible! But it isn't true, -Paul, is it?" - -"Who has been telling you all these things?" he asked. - -"Then it is true? You are going to marry her, because of the position, -and all that? I wish it wasn't so difficult to understand. Is it a -crime, I wonder, to like any one so desperately as I like you? But I -can't help it, can I? Oh, Paul, do tell me what to do?" - -He winced as she turned to him so naturally for protection, even -though it was against himself that she asked it. - -"Don't talk like that, child," he said, harshly. And the hand she had -held out to him appealingly fell down limply at her side. - -"I can't expect you to think anything of me, after what I have just -said to you," she went on in the same hopeless voice. "Girls are never -supposed to tell those things, are they? It doesn't seem to me to -matter much, now that it has all got to stop, for always. I only -wish--I wish it had stopped before. I--I am going now, Paul." - -Although she turned away from him, she still half expected him to -come and comfort her. For a couple of seconds she stood quite still, -possessed with a terrible longing to be comforted by him. But he sat -motionless and silent on the table; even his foot had ceased swinging. -She walked unsteadily to the door. - -"Stop," said Paul. "You cannot go out in this storm." - -A peal of thunder broke over the house as he spoke. She had not -noticed the rain until then. - -"I must go," she said dully, and fumbled at the fastening of the door. -Paul came and took her by the arm, and led her back gently. - -"I want to explain, first," he said. - -"There is nothing to explain," said Katharine. "I understand." - -"Not quite, I think," said Paul. They were standing together by the -table, and he was nervously caressing the hand he held between his -own. "You have only been talking from your own point of view; you have -forgotten mine altogether. You do not seem to think that I, too, may -have had something to suffer." - -"You? But you do not care--as I do." - -He did not heed the interruption. - -"It is the system that is at fault," he said. "A man has to get on at -the sacrifice of his happiness; or he has to be happy at the -sacrifice of his position. It is difficult for a woman to realise -this. She never has to choose between love and ambition." - -"And you have chosen--ambition," said Katharine bitterly. - -"My child, when you are older you will understand that the very -qualities you affect to despise in man now, are the qualities that -endear him to you in reality. You are far too fine a woman, Katharine, -to love a man who has no ambition. Is it not so?" - -She quivered, and lowered her eyes. - -"I don't know," she said. "It seems so hard." - -"It is terribly hard for both of us," continued Paul, looking down -too. "But believe me, there would be nothing but unhappiness before us -if it were otherwise. I am thinking of you, child, as much as of -myself. Marriage for love alone is a ghastly mistake. There, I have -said more to you than I have ever said to any woman; I felt you would -understand, Katharine." - -He mistook her silence for indifference, and put his arms round her. -But she clung to him closely, and lifted her face to his and broke out -into a desperate appeal. - -"Paul, don't say those horrid, bitter things! They are not true; I -will never believe they are true. Why must you marry for anything so -sordid as ambition? Why must you marry at all? Can't we go on being -friends? I want to go on being your friend. Paul, don't send me away -for ever. I can't go, Paul; I can't! I will work for you, I will be -your slave, I will do anything; only don't let it all stop like this. -I can't bear it; I can't! Won't you go on being nice to me, Paul?" - -He threw back his head and compressed his lips. He had grown quite -white in the last few moments. She sobbed out her entreaties with her -face hidden on his shoulder, and wondered why he did not speak to her. - -"Why did you never look like that before?" he asked in a hoarse -whisper. She raised her head and stared at him with large, frightened -eyes. - -"Like what, Paul? What do you mean?" - -He flung her away from him almost roughly. - -"You must go," he said, "at once." - -She laid her hand on his arm, and looked into his face. - -"Why are you so angry?" she asked, wonderingly. "Is it because I have -told you all these things?" - -"My God, no! You must go," he repeated, vehemently, and pushed her -towards the door. She stumbled as she went, and he thought he heard -her sob. He sprang to her side instantly, and took her in his arms -again. - -"Why didn't you go quickly?" he gasped, as he crushed her against him. - -His sudden change of manner terrified her. None of the tenderness or -the indifference, or any of the expressions she was accustomed to see -on his face were there now, and his violence repelled her. She -struggled to free herself from his grasp. - -"Let me go, Paul!" she pleaded. "I don't want to stop any more. What -is the good of it all? You know I have got to go; don't make it so -difficult. Paul, I--I _want_ to go." - -He looked searchingly into her eyes, as though he would have read her -inmost thoughts; but he did not see the understanding he had almost -hoped to find there, and he laughed shortly and relinquished his hold -of her. - -"There, go!" he said in an uncertain tone. "Why did I expect you to -know? Your day hasn't come yet. Meanwhile-- Ah! what am I saying?" - -"I have annoyed you again," said Katharine sorrowfully. "What ought I -to have known?" - -"Oh, nothing," said Paul, flinging open the door. "You can't help it. -Now and again Nature makes woman a prig, and it is only the right man -who can regenerate her. Unfortunately, circumstances prevent me from -being the right man. Are you ready to come, now?" - -He spoke rapidly, hardly knowing what he said. But Katharine walked -past him without speaking, with a set look on her face. He talked -mechanically about the storm and anything else that occurred to him, -as they went downstairs, but she did not utter a word, and he did not -seem to notice her silence. She held out her hand to him as they stood -in the doorway. - -"You will let me see you to a cab?" he said. "Oh, very well, as you -like; but, at least, take an umbrella with you." - -She shook her head mutely, and plunged out into the rain and the -storm. It was on just such a night as this, more than two years ago, -that she had first gone out to meet him. Paul called after her to come -back and take shelter; and some one, who was walking swiftly by, -turned round at the sound of his voice. The dim lamp above shed its -uncertain light for a moment on the faces of the three, whom -circumstances had thus strangely brought together in the fury of that -June thunder-storm. It was only for a moment. Paul drew back again -into the doorway, and Katharine stumbled blindly against the man -outside. - -"Ted!" she cried, with a sob of relief. "Take me home, Ted, will you? -Something terrible has happened to me; I can't tell you now. Oh, I am -so glad it is you!" - -She clung to his arm convulsively. Some clock in the neighbourhood was -striking the hour, and it struck twelve times before Ted spoke. - -"Kitty!" he said. - -She waited, but not another word came. Exhaustion prevented her from -resisting, as he led her to a hansom, and paid the driver, and left -her. Then she remembered dimly that he had not spoken to her, except -for that one startled exclamation. - -It seemed to Katharine as though nothing could be wanting to complete -her wretchedness. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -But, humiliated as she was, the predominant feeling in her mind was -astonishment. Could it be true that she was a prig? Was that the final -definition of the pride and the strength in which she had gloried -until now? Was that all that people meant when they told her she was -not like other girls? It was an odious revelation, and for the moment -her self-respect was stunned by it. She had boasted of her success; -and to be successful was merely to be priggish. She had been proud of -her virtue; and virtue, again, was only an equivalent for -priggishness. She wondered vaguely whether there was a single -aspiration left that did not lead to the paths of priggishness. A -prig! He had called her a prig! She had thought it such a fine thing -to be content with his friendship, and this was the end of it all. All -the wretchedness of her solitary drive home was centred in those last -cruel words of his; all the bitterness of that long, miserable Sunday -was concentrated in that covert insult. She could have borne his -indifference, or even his displeasure; but she could have killed him -for his contempt. - -And Ted? She did not give a thought to Ted. Even the reason for his -curious behaviour had not fully dawned upon her yet. It had only -seemed in keeping with the rest of her misfortunes, just like the -rain, which she allowed to beat in upon her, with a kind of reckless -satisfaction. In the fulness of her more absorbing personal trouble, -Ted would have to wait. It had been her experience that Ted always -could wait. It was not until she stood once more within the familiar -hall of number ten, Queen's Crescent, that the recollection of Ted's -astonished look returned to her mind; and then she put it hastily away -from her, as something that would have to be faced presently. - -As she walked into her room, too weary to think any more, and longing -for the temporary oblivion of a night's rest, the first thing that met -her eye was the unmade condition of her bed. The desolate look of the -tiny compartment was the crowning point of her day of woe; and the -tears, which she had kept back until now, rushed to her eyes. It -seemed a little hard that, on this day of all others, Phyllis should -have neglected to make her bed. She gave it an impatient push, and it -scraped loudly over the bare boards. - -"Stop that row!" said Polly's sharp voice from the other end of the -room. "You might be quiet, now you _have_ come in." - -"Is Phyllis asleep?" asked Katharine shortly. - -"Can't you be quiet?" growled Polly. "Haven't you heard she is worse? -Don't see how you should, though,--coming in at this hour of the -night!" - -"Worse?" With an effort, Katharine's thoughts travelled back over the -absorbing events of the day, to the early morning; and she remembered -that Phyllis had stayed in bed with a headache. "What is the matter -with her?" she asked, faintly. Everything seemed to be conspiring -against her happiness to-day. - -"Influenza. A lot you care! Nothing but my cousin's funeral would have -taken me out to-day, I know. I had to show up for that. Of course, I -thought you would look after her; I asked you to." - -Katharine had pushed aside the curtain, and was looking at the -flushed, unconscious face of her friend. She dimly remembered saying -she would stop with her; and then a letter had come from Paul, asking -her to meet him in the park, and she had thought no more of Phyllis. -She had not even succeeded in meeting him; and again her eyes filled -with tears at her own misfortunes. - -"I couldn't help it," she said, miserably. "How was I to know she was -so bad? Have you taken her temperature?" - -"Hundred and three, when I last took it. It's no use standing there -and pulling a long face. She doesn't know you; so it's rather late in -the day to be cut up. You'd better go to bed, I should say; you look -as though you'd been out all day, and half the night, too!" - -She ended with a contemptuous sniff. Katharine rubbed the tears out of -her eyes. The weariness had temporarily left her. - -"Let me sit up with her," she said. - -"You? What could you do? Why, you'd fall asleep, or think of something -else in the middle, and she might die for all you cared," returned -Polly contemptuously. "Can you make a poultice?" - -Katharine shook her head dumbly, and crept away. Her self-abasement -seemed complete. She lay down on her untidy bed, and drew the clothes -over her, and gave way to her grief. There did not seem a bright spot -in her existence, now that Phyllis was not able to comfort her. She -hoped, with a desperate fervour, that she would catch influenza too, -and die, so that remorse should consume the hearts of all those who -had so cruelly misunderstood her. - -A hand shook her by the shoulder, not unkindly. - -"Look here! you must stop that row, or else you will disturb her. -What's the good of it? Besides, she isn't as bad as all that either; -you can't have seen much illness, I'm thinking." - -"It isn't that," gasped Katharine truthfully. "At least, not entirely. -I was dreadfully unhappy about something else, and I wanted to die; -and then, when I found Phyllis was ill, it all seemed so hopeless. I -didn't mean to disturb any one; it was dreadfully foolish of me; I -haven't cried for years." - -Polly gave a kind of grunt, and sat down on the bed. It was more or -less interesting to have reduced the brilliant Miss Austen to this -state of submission. - -"Got yourself into trouble?" she asked, and refrained from adding that -she had expected it all along. - -Katharine began to cry again. There was so little sympathy, and so -much curiosity, in the curt question. But she had reached the point -when to confide in some one was an absolute necessity; and there was -no one else. - -"I haven't done anything wrong," she sobbed. "Why should one suffer so -awfully, just because one didn't _know_! We were only friends, and it -was so pleasant, and I was so happy! It might have gone on for ever, -only there was another girl." - -"Of course," said Polly. "There always is. How did she get hold of -him?" - -Katharine shrank back into herself. - -"You don't understand," she complained. "He isn't like that at all. He -is clever, and refined, and very reserved. He doesn't flirt a bit, or -anything of that sort." - -"Oh, I see," said Polly, with her expressive sniff. "I suppose the -other girl thought herself a toff, eh?" - -"She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," said Katharine -simply. "But I never knew he cared about that. He had views against -marriage, he always said; and he wasn't always talking about women, -like some men. I did not think he would end in marrying, just like -every one else." - -"More innocent you, then! I always said you ought to have stopped at -home; girls like you generally do come the worst cropper. You surely -didn't suppose he would go on for ever, and be content merely with -your friendship, did you?" - -"Yes, I did," said Katharine wearily. "Why not? I was content with -his." - -Polly gave vent to a stifled laugh. - -"My dear, you're not a man," she said in a superior tone. It added -considerably to the piquancy of the conversation that the subject was -one on which she was a greater authority than her clever companion. - -"But he really cared for me, I am certain he did," Katharine went on -plaintively; and her eyes filled with tears again. - -"Then why is he marrying the other girl instead of you? If she is so -beautiful, you're surely very good-looking too, eh? That won't wash -anyhow, will it?" - -Katharine was silent. She felt she could not reveal the full extent of -his infamy just then; there was something so particularly sordid in -having been weighed against the advantages of a worldly marriage and -found wanting; and she felt a sudden disinclination to expose the -whole of the truth to the sharp criticism of Polly Newland. - -"I haven't done anything wrong," she said again. "I don't understand -why things are so unfairly arranged. Why should I suffer for it like -this?" - -"Don't know about that," retorted the uncompromising Polly. "I expect -you've been foolish, and that's a worse game than being bad. Going -about town with a man after dark, when you're not engaged to him, -isn't considered respectable by most, even if it's always the same -man. I'm not so particular as some, but you must draw the line -somewhere." - -"I didn't go about with him much," said Katharine, making a feeble -attempt to justify herself. "He didn't care about it; he was always so -particular not to give people anything to talk about. He didn't care -for himself, he said; it was only for me. So I used to go to his -chambers instead. I couldn't be more careful than that, could I? And I -should have gone in the daytime, if I had had more time; but there was -all my work to get through,--so what else could I do? There wasn't any -harm in it." - -She could not see her companion's face, and was so full of her own -reflections that she failed to notice her silence. Polly did not even -sniff. - -"Then there's Ted," Katharine continued presently. "Even Ted was -strange to-night; and Ted has never been like that to me before. I -can't think what has come over everybody. What have I done to deserve -it all?" - -"Mercy me!" cried Polly suddenly. "Is there another of them? Who on -earth is Ted?" - -"Ted? Why, you must have seen him in the hall sometimes; he often -comes to take me out. I have known him all my life; he is only a -little older than I am, and I am devoted to him. I would not quarrel -with Ted for anything in the whole world; it would be like quarrelling -with myself. And to-night I ran into him, just as I came out of--of -the other one's chambers; and I was so glad to see him, because Ted is -always so sweet to me when I am in trouble; and--and Ted was quite -funny, and he wouldn't speak to me at all, and he just put me into a -hansom and left me to come home alone. I can't think why he behaved so -oddly. I know he used not to get on with--with the other one, and that -is why I never told him I had met him again up here in London; and I -suppose he caught sight of him to-night in the doorway,--there was a -lamp just above,--but still, he need not have been hurt until he had -heard my explanation, need he? Why has every one turned against me at -once?" - -Polly remained silent no longer. She turned and stared at the -prostrate figure on the bed, with all the power of her small, watery -blue eyes. - -"I really think you beat everything I ever knew," she exclaimed. - -"What?" said Katharine, who had turned her face to the wall, and was -occupied in meditating miserably on the problem of her existence. -"What do you mean?" - -Polly lost all control over herself. - -"Do you mean to tell me that you never saw any harm in all this?" she -cried emphatically. "Do you really mean to say that you have been -carrying on anyhow with two men at once, going to their chambers late -at night, and letting yourself be seen in public with them, without -knowing that it was unusual? Didn't you ever see the danger in it? You -are either the biggest fool in creation or the biggest humbug! One man -at a time would be bad enough; but two! My eye!" - -"But--there wasn't any harm," pleaded Katharine. "Why does no one -understand? It seemed quite natural to me. They were so different, -and I liked them in such opposite ways, don't you see? I have known -Ted all my life; he is a dear boy, and that is all. But Paul is clever -and strong; he is a man, and he knows about things. And I never knew -it was wrong; I didn't _feel_ wicked, somehow. I wonder if that was -what Paul was thinking, when he said I was a prig? Oh, dear! oh, dear! -I have never been so wretched in my whole life!" - -"Did he say that about you? Well, I don't wonder." - -Katharine looked hopelessly at her unsympathetic profile, with the -snub nose and the small chin, and the hair twisted up into tight -plaits and the ends tied with white tape; and her eyes wandered down -the red flannel dressing-gown to the large slippered feet that emerged -from beneath it. - -"You called me a prig, too," she said, humbly. "I overheard you." - -"I thought so then," said Polly gruffly. - -"Do you think so now? Is it true? Am I a prig?" She awaited the answer -anxiously. Polly gave her another pitiless stare. - -"I'm bothered if I know," she said. "But if you're not, you ought to -be in the nursery. Only don't go telling people the things you've -been telling me to-night, or you might get yourself into worse -trouble. You'd better go to sleep now, and leave it till to-morrow. My -conscience! you'd make some people sit up, you would!" - -Katharine felt she had endured as much contempt as she could bear that -evening; but she made a last attempt to recover some of her -self-respect. - -"I wish you would tell me why it is wrong to do things that are not -really wrong in themselves, just because people say they are wrong?" -she asked, rather sleepily. - -"Because people can make it so jolly unpleasant for you if you don't -agree with them," said Polly bluntly. "And if you fancy you're going -to alter all that, you must make up your mind to be called a prig. You -can't have a good time and defy convention as you've been doing, and -then expect to get off scot free without being called a prig; it isn't -likely. Most people are content to take things as they are; it's a -jolly sight more comfortable, and it's good enough for them. -Good-night." - -"I sha'n't sleep," Katharine called after her. And Polly sniffed. - -And the next thing that Katharine remembered was being awakened by her -in the early morning, and told in a gruff voice that she might sit -with Phyllis if she liked, until some one came to relieve her. - -"All right," she replied, drowsily. "How tired you look; didn't you -sleep well?" - -"Sleep? There wasn't much chance of that, when she was talking -gibberish all the time. She's quieter now, and you can fetch Jenny if -you want anything. I must be off; I shall be late as it is. Just like -my luck to get my early week when she is ill!" - -And there by the bedside of Phyllis Hyam, before any one else in the -house was astir, Katharine sat and pondered again over the events of -the day before. They seemed just as tragic as ever, separated as they -were from her by a few hours of forgetfulness; and she wondered -miserably how she was going to take up her life as usual, and go about -her work as though nothing had happened. "That is why it is so hard to -be a woman," she murmured, full of pity for her own troubles. And yet, -when Miss Jennings came and took her post in the sick-room, and she -was free to go to school, she found that it was a relief to be -compelled to do something, and her work seemed easier to her than she -had ever found it before. She had never given a better lecture than -she gave that morning; and something that was outside herself seemed -to come to her assistance all day, and remained with her until her -work was done. But when she returned home in the evening, the full -significance of her unfortunate situation stared her again in the -face; and the news that Phyllis was worse and was not allowed to see -any one was so in keeping with her feelings, that she felt unable even -to make a comment upon it. - -"I always said that Miss Austen hadn't a spark of feeling in her," -observed the girl who had given her the information; and Katharine -overheard her, and began to wonder mechanically if it were true. Every -faculty she possessed seemed deadened at that moment; she had no -longer the inclination even to rebel against her fate. She sat on the -stairs, outside the bedroom she was not allowed to enter, and took a -strange delicious pleasure in dwelling upon the whole of her -intercourse with Paul. There was not a conversation or a chance -meeting with him, that she did not go through in her mind with a -scrupulous accuracy; the pain of it became almost unendurable at -moments, and yet it was an exquisite torture that brought her some -measure of relief. She even forced herself to recall her last meeting -with him, and was surprised in an apathetic sort of way when she -found that she did not want to cry any more. - -And from thinking of Paul, she naturally fell to thinking of Ted too. -And it slowly dawned upon her, as she considered it in the light of -her present mood, that what Polly had said in her vulgar, -uncompromising manner, was the truth. For a whole year she had been -living in a false atmosphere of contentment; she had deluded herself -into the belief that she was superior to convention and human nature -combined, and she had ended in proving herself a complete failure. -Paul had seen through her self-righteousness, he had nothing but -contempt for her, and he had found it a relief to turn from her to the -human and faulty Marion Keeley. In the depths of her self-abasement, -she had even ceased to feel angry with Marion. - -And Ted had found her out. That was the worst of all. On the impulse -of the moment, she fetched some paper and wrote to him at once, -sitting there on the uncarpeted stairs, while the people passed up and -down unheeded by her. It was a very humble letter, full of pleading -confession and self-accusation,--such a letter as she had never sent -him before, and written from a standpoint she had never yet been -obliged to assume towards him. It was a relief at the moment to be -doing something; but she regretted her action the whole of the -following day, and hardly knew how to open his reply when she found it -awaiting her, on her return home in the evening. It was very short. - -"Dear Kitty," it ran:-- - - Don't mind about me. It's a rotten world, and I'm the - rottenest fool in it. I was only hit up the other night - because I was so surprised. Of course you're all right, and I - ought never to have been born. I knew all the time that you - were spoofing me when you pretended to care for me; but I - didn't know you cared for any one else, least of all Wilton. - He always seemed so played to me, but then I'm not clever. - Only, I advise you not to go hanging round his chambers at - night; people are so poor, and they might talk. Let me know if - you want me or anything. I won't bother you otherwise. - - TED. - -He still believed in her, then; only it was more from habit than -conviction. But she had destroyed his love for her. She realised these -two facts in the same breath, and she rebelled passionately at the -loss of the affection that had been hers for so long, though she had -valued it so lightly. - -"I do want you, now," she scribbled to him in pencil. "Will you come -here to-morrow evening? Miss Jennings has promised me the use of her -sitting-room. I shall expect you about seven." - -It seemed quite in harmony with the general wretchedness of those few -days that Phyllis should be seriously ill all the time. The -sixty-three working gentlewomen, who had never pretended to care for -the brusque shorthand clerk when she was in good health and trampled -without a scruple on their tenderest susceptibilities, now went about -on tiptoe, and conversed in whispers on all the landings, and got in -the way of the doctor when he came downstairs. And they one and all -condemned Katharine for her indifference, because she refused to -enlarge on the subject at every meal. - -"The conversation is never very exhilarating, at the best of times; -but when all those women take to gloating over a tragedy, it simply -isn't bearable," she was heard to exclaim; and the unlucky remark cost -her the last shred of her popularity at Queen's Crescent. - -She was waiting at her usual post on the stairs, when they came to -tell her that Ted was downstairs. He had come at her bidding; that -was consoling, at all events. But when she walked into Miss Jennings' -private room and saw his face as he stood on the hearthrug, her heart -sank again, and she knew that she was not to find consolation yet. He -held out his hand to her silently, and pulled forward a slender, -white-wood chair tied up with yellow ribbons, and imperilled a bamboo -screen crowded with cheap crockery, and finally sat down himself on -the edge of the chintz-covered sofa. Neither of them spoke for a -moment or two, and Ted cleared his throat uncomfortably, and stared at -the ferrule of his walking-stick. - -"I got your letter," he said at last, "and I've come." - -"Yes," said Katharine, "you've come." - -Having delivered themselves of these two very obvious remarks, they -again relapsed into silence; and Katharine glanced at the cuckoo -clock, and marvelled that so much concentrated wretchedness could be -crowded into something under five minutes. - -"Ted," she forced herself to say, in a voice that did not seem to be -hers, "Ted, will you never come and see me any more?" - -He lifted his head and looked at her; then looked away again. - -"Not unless you want me to do anything for you," he said. "I don't -want to bother, you see." - -She longed to cry out and tell him that he never bothered her; that -she wanted to see him more than she wanted anything in the whole -world. But something new and strange in his face, that told her he was -no longer a boy and no longer her willing slave, seemed to paralyse -her. To be proved inferior to the man she had always considered -inferior to her, was the hardest blow she had yet had to endure. - -"I don't know what you mean," she said, lamely. - -Ted hastened to be apologetic. - -"I'm beastly sorry," he said, and cleared his throat again. - -"I--I wish you would explain," she went on. - -"Oh, that's all right, isn't it?" said Ted vaguely. - -"It isn't all right; you know it isn't," she cried. "What makes you so -strange to me? You've never looked like that before. Is it I who have -changed you so, Ted?" - -"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "You've hit me up rather, that's all. -Don't bother about me. Did you want me for anything particular?" - -She looked in vain for any signs of relenting in his manner; but he -sat on the edge of the sofa, and played with his walking-stick, and -cleared his throat at intervals. In spite of the changed conditions of -their attitude towards one another, she felt that she was expected, as -usual, to take the initiative. - -"I wanted to tell you all about it, to explain," she faltered. "I -thought you would help me." - -"If it's all the same to you, I would rather not hear," said Ted, with -unexpected promptitude. "I know as much about it as I care to know, -thanks. _He_ wrote to me this morning, too." - -"He wrote to you? Paul?" - -"Wilton, yes," he replied, shortly, and glanced at her again. His -under lip was twitching, as it always did when he was hurt or -embarrassed. - -"What for?" she asked, wonderingly. - -"Oh, to explain, and all that! Hang the explanation! I didn't want him -to tell me he hadn't been a blackguard; I knew you,--so that was all -square. But I don't understand it now, and I don't want to. I can't -see any great shakes, myself, in playing about with a girl when you're -engaged to some one else. But I suppose that's because I'm such a -rotten ass. It's none of my business, any way; only, I think you'd -better be careful. But you know best, so that's all right." - -Again she longed to tell him that she was not so bad as he thought -her, and yet, much worse than he thought her; but the words would not -come, and she sat self-condemned. - -"You don't understand," she stammered presently. "I didn't know he was -engaged till yesterday. I saw no harm in it all; I only liked him very -much, as a friend. I liked you in quite a different way, I--" - -"You didn't know he was engaged?" said Ted, rousing himself suddenly. -"Do you mean to say he has been playing fast and loose with you, the -blackguard? If I had thought that--" - -"No, no!" she cried, in alarm at the fierceness of his expression. "He -never treated me badly; he made everything quite clear from the -beginning. It was my fault if I misunderstood him. But I never did; I -always knew we were just friends, and it was pleasant, and I let it go -on. Haven't you and I been friends, too, Ted? There was no harm in -that, was there?" - -"Oh, no," he said, bitterly. "There was no fear of any harm in it!" - -She realised his meaning, and blushed painfully as she felt that he -had spoken the truth. - -"Ted, do you hate me, I wonder?" she murmured. - -"What? Oh, that's all right. Don't bother about me. I was a rotten ass -ever to expect anything else." - -"But, I mean, because--because of the other?" she went on anxiously. - -Ted bit his lip, but did not speak. - -"Do you think it was wrong of me?" she pleaded. "Ted, tell me! I -didn't know; I didn't really. It seemed quite right to me; I couldn't -see that it mattered, just because of what people said. Would you -think it wrong of a girl to come and see you, if she liked coming, and -didn't care what people said?" - -Ted rose from his seat hurriedly, and picked up his hat. - -"I never said you were wrong, did I?" he said, gently. "You see, -you're clever, and I'm not, and it's altogether different. I was only -sorry, that was all; I didn't think you went in for that sort of -thing, and I was hit up, rather. But it was my fault entirely; and of -course you're right,--you always are. I sha'n't bother you any more, -now I know." - -"Ted, don't go," she said, imploringly, as he touched her hand again -and turned towards the door. "Don't you understand, Ted, that--that -_he_ only appealed to half of me, and-- I do care, Ted, and I want you -to come and see me again; I do really, Ted, I--" - -But he only smiled as incredulously as before, and spoke again in the -same gentle tone. - -"Thanks, awfully. But don't bother to spoof yourself about me; I shall -be all right, really. It was always my fault; I won't bother you any -more. Good-bye." - -And, haunted by his changed manner and his joyless smile, she went -back to her seat on the stairs, and sat with her hands clasped over -her knees and her eyes staring vacantly into space, as she tried in -vain to discover what her real feelings were. "Perhaps I haven't got -any," she thought to herself. "Perhaps I am incapable of loving any -one, or of feeling anything. And I have sent away the best fellow in -the whole world, and it doesn't seem to matter a bit. I wonder if -_anything_ could make me cry now?" And she took a gloomy pleasure in -conjuring up all the incidents of the last unhappy week, and laughed -cynically when she found that none of them had any effect upon her. - -"Why don't they light the gas?" complained the working gentlewomen, -when they came downstairs to supper. And when Katharine explained that -she had promised to light it herself and had forgotten to do so, they -passed on their way, marvelling that any one with so little feeling -should have her moments of abstraction like every one else. After they -had all gone down, she had a restless fit, and paced up and down the -landing until Polly Newland came out of the sick room, and stopped -her. - -"You might choose another landing, if you want to do that," she said, -crossly. "You've woke her up now; but you can come in if you like. She -has just asked for you." - -Katharine followed her in, rather awkwardly, and sat down on the chair -that was pointed out to her, and tried to think of something -appropriate to say. It was difficult to know how to begin, when she -looked round the room, and noted all the objects that seemed to have -belonged to some distant period in her life, before the world had -become so hard and cheerless. But Phyllis was looking the same as -ever, except that she was rather white, and her hair was strangely -tidy. She was the first to speak. - -"Hullo," she said. "I've been wanting to see you. What's the matter -with you, child?" - -The incongruity of being asked by the invalid for the cause of her own -malady did not immediately occur to Katharine. But the familiar tone -of sympathy went straight to her heart, and she broke down completely. -She had a dim notion that Polly remonstrated angrily, and that Polly -was sent out of the room; and after that she was conscious of nothing -except of the comfort of being able to cry undisturbed, until Phyllis -said something about red eyes, and they joined in a spasmodic laugh. - -"Poor old girl, what have they been doing to you?" she asked. - -"Everything has been horrid," gasped Katharine. "And you were ill, and -nobody understood, and oh, Phyllis!--I am a _prig_!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Marion Keeley lay in an indolent attitude on the sofa by the window. -Her mother was addressing circulars at the writing-table, with the -anxious haste of the fashionable woman of business. Both of them -looked as though the London season, which a royal wedding had -prolonged this year, had been too much for them. - -"He is coming again to-night," said Marion, throwing down a letter she -had been reading. Her tone was one of dissatisfaction. - -"I know," replied her mother. "I asked him to come." - -Marion made a gesture of impatience. - -"Don't you think," she said, "that you might occasionally, for the -sake of variety, wait until his own inclination prompted him to come?" - -"I don't understand you," said Mrs. Keeley, absently. "I asked him -because I wanted to make final arrangements with him about Lady -Suffolk's drawing-room meeting, at which he has promised to speak -to-morrow." - -"It seems to me," observed Marion sarcastically, "that it would save a -lot of trouble if you were to marry him yourself." - -"It is very surprising," complained her mother, "how you persist in -dragging the frivolous element into everything. If you were only like -your cousin, now,--so earnest and so sympathetic! How is it that you -are really my daughter?" - -"I'm sure I don't know; in fact, I think it is the only subject on -which you have allowed me to remain ignorant," returned Marion, -calmly. "But you needn't bother about me; I am going out to dinner in -any case to-night, so you will be able to make your arrangements with -Paul without the distraction of the frivolous element. Meanwhile, -can't we have some tea?" - -The Honourable Mrs. Keeley returned to her circulars with a sigh. - -"One might almost think, to hear you talk, that you did not want to -marry him at all," she exclaimed. - -"One almost might," assented Marion; and she tore her letter into -little pieces, and threw them deftly into the waste-paper basket. Her -mother looked at her a little apprehensively. - -"How you can, even in fun, pretend to ignore the merits of a -character like Paul Wilton's is beyond my comprehension," she -grumbled. "What more can you want in a man, I should like to know?" - -"More? I don't want any more; I want a good deal less. I'm not -ignoring his merits; I only wish I could. I would give anything to -find a few honest human imperfections in him. It is his eternal -excellence that is driving me to distraction. What a fool I was ever -to let him take me seriously! Of course I never should have done, if -he had not provoked me by being so difficult to fascinate. He is one -of those awful people who are going to make heaven unbearable!" - -"Judging by your aggravating behaviour in this world, you won't be -there to help him," said her mother, who was losing her patience -rapidly after having wrongly addressed two wrappers. - -"I hope I sha'n't. If all the people go to heaven who are popularly -supposed to be _en route_, I should think even the saints would be too -bored to stop there. As for Paul, I grant you that he is eminently -fitted for a son-in-law, but I don't see why I should be the victim of -his heaven-sent vocation." - -"You are not married to him yet; and if you continue in this strain -much longer, I doubt if you ever will be." - -"Oh," said Marion, with sudden animation, "do you really think there -_is_ a chance of his breaking it off?" - -The opportune arrival of Katharine at this moment restored some of -Mrs. Keeley's good-humour. She approved very decidedly of Katharine, -not only because she was a working-woman, but also on account of her -patience as a listener. Katharine, she felt, would have made an ideal -daughter; Katharine understood the serious aspect of the political -situation, and she showed no signs of being bored when people gave her -their opinion of things. So she received her with genuine cordiality. - -"I am so glad you have come," said Marion, offering her a perfunctory -embrace. "You have interrupted mamma, and made tea inevitable. It is -quite providential." - -"I am glad to be the unwitting cause of so many blessings," said -Katharine drily. "I really came to say good-bye. I am going home -to-morrow." - -"Holidays already?" exclaimed Mrs. Keeley, as though she grudged even -the working gentlewoman her moments of relaxation. - -"They have not come too soon for me," observed Katharine, to whom the -last six weeks had seemed an endless period of waiting. "But I am -leaving town for good; so I suppose I shall not see you again for some -time. I mean to say, I have given up my teaching, and--" - -"How charming of you!" exclaimed Marion, who felt that the last -barrier to a warm friendship with her cousin was now removed. "Are you -really going to be like everybody else, now?" - -But the Honourable Mrs. Keeley was bitterly disappointed. - -"It is incredible," she said. "Do you mean to say that you are going -to throw up your life's work, just as you are on the point of being a -brilliant success?" - -"I think, on the contrary, I have merely been a failure," said -Katharine, with a patient smile. "You see, there are hundreds of -people who can do just what I am doing. But I am wanted at home, and I -am going back to my father; I ought never to have left him." - -"Oh, these girls!" sighed Mrs. Keeley. "What is the use of trying to -make them independent? And I thought you were so different; I held you -up as an example to my own daughter--" - -"I am so sorry," murmured Katharine, in parenthesis. Marion only -laughed. - -"I was proud to own you as my niece," pursued Mrs. Keeley, increasing -in fervour as she went on. "You were doing what so few women succeed -in doing, and I had the keenest admiration for your courage and your -talent. And to give it all up like this! Surely, you have some -excellent reason for such an extraordinary course of action?" - -"It seems to me quite sufficient reason that I am more wanted at home -than here," replied Katharine, with the same air of gentle endurance. -She had gone through a similar explanation more than once lately, and -it was beginning to blunt the edge of her newly made resolutions. It -also took away most of the picturesqueness of being good. - -"But, indeed, you are very much mistaken," her aunt continued to urge. -"Who has been putting this effete notion of _duty_ into your head? I -thought we working-women had buried it for ever! Consider what you are -doing in throwing up the position you have carved out for yourself; -consider the bad effect it will have upon others, the example,--everything! -Your place is the world, Kitty, the great world! There cannot be any -work for you to do in a home like yours." - -"There is always plenty to do in the village, and nobody to do it," -said Katharine. "I have considered the matter thoroughly, Aunt Alicia, -and my mind is quite made up. Anybody can do my work up here in -London; you know that is so." - -"Indeed, you are mistaken," said her aunt, vehemently. It seemed -particularly hard that her favourite protégée should have deserted her -principles, just as she had been driven to the last limit of endurance -by her own daughter. "Every woman must do her own work, and no one -else can do it for her." - -"Then why do you always say the labour market is so overcrowded?" -asked Marion, making a mischievous application of the knowledge she -had so unwillingly absorbed. But she was not heeded. - -"It is the mass we have to consider, not the individual," continued -the Honourable Mrs. Keeley, as though she were addressing the room -from a platform. "It is for lesser women than ourselves to look after -the home and the parish; there is a far wider sphere reserved for such -as you and I. It would be a perfect scandal if you were to throw -yourself away on the narrowness of the domestic circle." - -Katharine felt a hysterical desire to laugh, which she controlled with -difficulty. She spoke very humbly, instead. - -"It must be my own fault, if I have allowed you to think all these -things about me," she said. "There is nothing great reserved for me; I -am just a complete failure, and that is the end of all my ambition and -all my conceit. I wish some one had told me I was conceited, before I -got so bad." - -The Honourable Mrs. Keeley was silenced at last. None of her -experience of working gentlewomen helped her to meet the present -situation. A woman with a great future before her had obviously no -right to be humble. But Marion realised gleefully that she had gained -a new and unexpected ally. - -"I always said you were much too jolly to belong to mamma's set," she -observed; at which the angered feelings of her mother compelled her to -seek comfort in solitude, and she made some excuse for retiring to her -boudoir, and left the two rebels together. They looked at one another -and broke into mutual merriment. But Marion laughed the loudest,--a -fact that she herself was the first to appreciate. - -"Kitty," she said suddenly, growing grave, "I am so sorry, dear! -What's up, and who has been treating you badly?" - -She strolled away immediately to pour out tea, and Katharine had time -to recover from surprise at her unusual penetration. - -"How did you know?" she asked, slowly. - -"I guessed, because--oh, you looked like it, or something! Don't ask -me to give a reason for anything I say, _please_. It isn't my -business, of course, and I don't want to know a thing about it if you -would rather not tell; only, I'm sorry if you're cut up, that's all. -Did you chuck him, or did it never get so far as that? There, I really -don't want you to tell me about it. Of course, he was much older than -you, and much wickeder, and he flirted atrociously with you and you -were taken in by him, you poor little innocent dear! I know all about -it, and the way they get hold of girls like you who are not up to -their wiles. He was married, too, of course? They always are, the -worst ones." - -It was too much trouble to correct her assumptions, and Katharine -allowed her to go on. After all, her sympathy was genuine, if it was a -little crudely expressed. - -"I shouldn't think any more about him, if I were you," continued -Marion. "They're not worth it, any of them; go and get another, and -snap your fingers at the first. You're not tied to one, as I am." - -"No," said Katharine, scalding herself with mouthfuls of boiling tea. -"I'm not." - -"I know I would give anything to get rid of mine," said Marion -sorrowfully. "May you never know the awful monotony of being engaged!" - -"I don't fancy I ever shall," observed Katharine. - -"Always the same writing on the breakfast table," sighed Marion; -"always the same face on the back seat of the carriage; always the -same photograph all over the house,--oh, it's maddening! You wouldn't -be able to stand it for a day, Kitty!" - -"Perhaps not," said Katharine. "Then your engagement is publicly -announced now?" - -"I should rather think so! I am tired of being congratulated by a lot -of idiots, who don't even take the trouble to find out whether I want -to be married or not. And then, the boys! Bobby is going to shoot -himself, he says; but of course Bobby always says that. And Jack has -gone to South Africa; I don't exactly know why, except that every one -goes to South Africa when there isn't any particular reason for -staying in town. And Tommy--you remember Tommy, don't you? He was my -best boy for ever so long; I rather liked Tommy. Well, he has gone and -married that stupid Ethel Humphreys, and he always said she _pinched_. -I know why he did it, too. He was being objectionably serious, one -day, and said he would do anything on earth for me; so I asked him to -go and marry mamma, because then I should get eight hundred a year. -And he didn't like it a bit; Tommy always was ridiculously -hot-tempered. Oh, dear, I'm sick of it all! I believe you're the only -person I know, who hasn't congratulated me." - -"Apparently, you do not consider yourself a subject for -congratulation," said Katharine, smiling faintly. - -"Oh, you're not like all the others, and I should like to be -congratulated by you. You would mean what you said, anyhow." - -"I certainly should," exclaimed Katharine. - -"How earnestly you said that! It's frightfully nice of you to care so -much, though. I was telling Paul what a good sort you were, the other -day, and he quite agreed." - -"Wasn't it rather dull for him?" - -"Oh, no, I'm sure it wasn't; he takes a tremendous interest in you; he -says you are the cleverest woman he knows, and the pluckiest. He does, -really!" - -"I have no doubt of it. He has always thought me clever and plucky," -said Katharine. - -"Well, it's more than he thinks about me, anyhow," said Marion -ruefully. "He doesn't think I am good for anything, except to play -with." - -"And to fall in love with," added Katharine softly. - -"Why didn't you come and meet him the other evening?" continued -Marion. "He seemed so disappointed. So was I; I wanted you to come, -for lots of reasons. I get so bored when I am left alone with him! I -like him ever so much better if there is some one else there; and you -are the only girl I know who would be safe not to flirt with him. -Bobby said, only the other day, that you were much too nice to flirt -with. And girls are so mean, sometimes,--aren't they? I was really -sorry when you refused." - -"If you had told me the real reason for your invitation, instead of -the conventional one, I might have made more effort to come," said -Katharine. - -"You old dear, don't be sarcastic; I never can endure sarcasm. But you -will come next time, won't you? Oh, dear, I am forgetting all about -your own trouble; what a selfish wretch I am! Are you sure there is -nothing I can do for you?" - -"Nothing, thanks; at least, nothing I would let you do." - -"Sure? Well, let me know if there is. Are you really very gone on him, -Kitty?" - -"Please don't," said Katharine. - -"All right, I won't. But I wish you would try a course of boys for a -time; it would make you feel so much happier. They're so fresh and -harmless." - -"Even when they shoot themselves?" said Katharine. - -"Oh, that's only Bobby. Must you really go? You old dear, you have -done me such a lot of good. What is it, Williams?" - -Mr. Wilton was in the library, the man announced, and would be glad to -see either Mrs. Keeley or her daughter for a moment, and he would -rather not come upstairs, as he was in a hurry. Marion gave a petulant -little stamp. - -"Oh, send mamma to him! How like Paul, not to care which of us he -sees! Just fancy, if it were Tommy, now! Stop, though, show him up -here, Williams. You will be able to congratulate him, Kitty; it will -put him in a good humour. Oh, nonsense! you can wait just for that, -and I haven't anything to say to him that he hasn't heard hundreds of -times before." - -So Katharine found herself shaking hands with him once more, and -congratulating him on being engaged to her cousin, Marion Keeley. She -had not seen him since the night of the thunderstorm, when he had -stood in the old doorway in Essex Court, with the lamplight on his -face. - -"You are very good; it is kind of you to take so much interest," he -was saying with frigid politeness. - -They were silent after that, and Marion said she was sure they must -have crowds to talk about, and she would go upstairs and ask her -mother about Lady Suffolk's drawing-room meeting; and they both made -perfectly futile efforts to keep her in the room, and were ashamed of -having made them when she had gone, and they were left to face the -situation alone. - -"I suppose," said Paul, with an effort, "that your holidays will soon -be beginning?" - -"They have begun to-day," said Katharine. "This is the first day--of -my last holidays." - -"Your--last holidays?" She felt, without seeing, that he had looked up -sharply at her. - -"I don't suppose it will interest you," she went on, rousing herself -to be more explicit; "but I am giving up my work in London, and going -home for good." - -There was the slightest perceptible pause before he spoke. - -"Would you care to tell me why?" - -"Because," said Katharine slowly, "I happened to find out, through a -friend, that I was a prig; and I am going home to try and learn not to -be a prig any more." She was looking straight at him as she finished -speaking. His face was quite incomprehensible just then. - -"Was that a true friend?" he asked. - -"People who tell us unpleasant things about ourselves are always said -to be our true friends, are they not?" she said, evasively. - -"That is not an answer to my question; I was not dealing in -generalities when I asked it. But of course, you have every right to -withhold the answer, if it pleases you--" - -"I don't think I know the answer," said Katharine. "I have always -found your questions too difficult to answer; and as to this one,--I -wish I could be sure that it was a friend at all." He moved his chair, -involuntarily, a little nearer hers. - -"Can I do anything to make you feel more sure?" he asked. - -She shook her head, and he moved away again. "Of course, you are the -best judge in the matter," he resumed, more naturally; "but it is -rather a serious step to take at the outset of your career, is it -not?" - -"Perhaps," she said, indifferently; "but then, I am not a man, you -see. There is no career possible for a woman, because her feelings are -always more important to her than all the ambition in the world. A man -only draws on his feelings for his recreation; but a woman makes them -the whole business of her life, and that is why she never gets on. I -don't suppose you can realise this, because it is so different for -you. Everybody expects a man to get on; it is made comparatively easy -for him, and nobody ever disputes his way of doing it. A man can have -as much fun as he likes, as long as he isn't found out,--and it's easy -for a man not to be found out," she added, with a sigh. - -"Easier than for a woman?" He spoke in the bantering tone that was so -familiar to her. - -"Oh, a woman is dogged by detectives from her cradle, mostly drawn -from the ranks of her own sex. It is a compliment we pay ourselves, in -one sense. We dare not inquire into the private life of a man, because -of the iniquities he is supposed to practise; but there is so little -scandal attached to a woman's name, that we are anxious not to miss -any of it." She laughed at her small attempt to be frivolous, and Paul -brightened considerably. He could understand her when she was in this -mood, and his peace of mind was undisturbed by it. - -"I suppose the man is still unborn who will take the trouble to -champion his sex, and explain that men are not all profligates before -they are married," he observed. "I wonder why women always think of us -as cads, and then take us for husbands. I can't think why they want to -marry us at all, though." - -"And we can't think what reason there is for you to offer _us_ -marriage, unless you do it for position or something like that," -retorted Katharine, and then bit her lip and stopped short, as she -realised what she had said. In the embarrassing pause that followed, -Marion came back into the room. - -"Well, you two don't look as though you'd had much conversation," she -remarked. - -"We haven't," said Katharine, getting up to leave. "Mr. Wilton's -conversation, you see, is all bespoken already." - -"Miss Austen is a little hard on me," said Paul. "I have had so little -practice in conversation with brilliant and learned young lecturers, -that--" - -"That I will leave you to a less dismal companion," interrupted -Katharine, a little abruptly. - -"Will you allow me to suggest," he went on, as he held her hand for a -moment, "that you should try and think more kindly of the particular -friend who was so unpleasantly frank to you?" - -"If I thought that the friend in question were likely to be affected -by my opinion of him, perhaps I might," she said, as she turned away. - -When she had gone, Marion asked him what he had meant. - -"Merely a passing reflection on something she had been telling me," -was his reply. - -"Oh," said Marion, "did she tell you about her love affair?" - -"My dear girl, Miss Austen is not likely to favour me with these -interesting disclosures, is she? I didn't know she had a love affair, -as you rather frankly express it." - -"She isn't a bit the sort, is she? I only found it out this afternoon; -he's an awful beast, I should think,--led her on, and treated her -villainously, poor old Kitty! Isn't it a shame?" - -"Did she tell you all that?" - -"Don't look so surprised! Of course she did; at least, I guessed, -because she looked so miserable. I always know; I've had so much -experience, you see. But it's much worse for Kitty, don't you know, -because she takes things so seriously. It's a mistake, isn't it? I -would give a good lot to meet the man who has ill treated her, -though!" - -"Yes? What would you do to him?" - -"I would tell him he was a horrid little bounder, and that Kitty was -well rid of him." - -"In which case there is no occasion to pity her, is there?" - -"Oh, how unsympathetic you are! Of course it's just as bad, whatever -the man is like. It's always the saints like Kitty who break their -hearts for the most worthless men. I'm not made like that; I should -soon console myself with some one else, and make the first one mad. -But then, I'm not clever." - -"Your cousin is a most interesting psychological study," said Paul -vaguely. - -"What do you mean? She is a very nice girl indeed," cried Marion -indignantly; and Paul silently condemned the whole sex, without -reservation. - -It was a particularly bright and sunny evening when Katharine returned -to her home,--a failure. She felt that, to be appropriate, it should -have been dull and dreary; but it was on the contrary quite at -variance with her feelings, and she grew unaccountably happier in -spite of herself, as the train sped past the familiar landmarks on the -way and brought her nearer every minute to the home of her childhood. -For there was a sneaking consideration for herself in her sudden -desire to serve others; she had felt out of tune with the world since -it had been the means of revealing her deficiencies to herself, and -she longed for the panacea of home sympathy, which was still connected -in her mind with the days when she had been supreme in a small circle, -a circle that believed in her if it did not precisely understand her. -She had found something wanting in the sympathies and interests which -had absorbed her for the last two years, and she turned instinctively -to those earlier ones which may have offered her no great allurements -at the time, but which at least contained no rude awakenings. She -forgot the petty discomforts and frequent annoyances of her life at -home, in her present desire for rest and peace; she was tired of -fighting hard for her happiness and gaining nothing but a moiety of -pleasure in return; and the weary condition of mind and body in which -she found herself at the end of it all, probably helped her to -exaggerate the advantages of that former existence of hers, and to -mistake its monotony for restfulness. - -She had her first disillusionment as she hastened out of the station. -It was no one's fault that the Rector had been obliged to attend a -meeting of the archæological society, and that Miss Esther had been -detained in the village; but they had never omitted to meet her -before, and that they should have done so on this particular occasion -which was of so much import to her, appeared in the light of a bad -omen, and she set it down sadly as another penalty that she was to pay -for having neglected her real duty so long. But she had yet to learn -that her ardent desire to sacrifice herself for somebody did not bring -with it the necessary opportunity, and it was not encouraging to -discover that no one was particularly anxious to be the recipient of -her good works, and that her effort at well-doing was more resented by -those in authority than her previous and undisguised course of -self-indulgence. Even Miss Esther mistrusted her enthusiasm, and -evidently looked upon it as another freak on the part of her -capricious niece, which would probably prove as transient as the last; -and Katharine felt that she was touching the extreme limits of her -endurance in the first few days she spent at the Rectory. - -"It is very hard," she complained to herself when she had been home -about a week, "that they should make it so much easier for me to be -bad than good. All the same," she added, with a touch of her old -defiant spirit, "I am going to be good, whether they like it or not!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -Ivingdon was one of those villages, common to the chalk district, that -cease to possess any charm in the wet weather. The small ranges of -round-topped hills which formed the only feature in the flat green -stretches of country entirely lost the few characteristics they -possessed, in the absence of sunshine, and presented neither charm nor -majesty in the heavy grey atmosphere that surrounded them. The -landscape appeared even less inspiriting than usual to Katharine, on a -rainy day in the late autumn, as she plodded through the most squalid -part of the village, and prepared to walk home through a kind of mist -that had none of the exhilarating qualities of the stormy rain that -always appealed to her. After four months of dull and virtuous -renunciation, such a day as this was likely to hasten the reaction -that had become inevitable. It was tea time when she reached the -Rectory; and the aspect of the precisely arranged table, with its -rigid erection of double dahlias in the middle, and the starched -figure of Miss Esther at the head of it, completed the feeling of -revulsion in her mind. - -"My dear," said her aunt, as Katharine flung herself into a chair, -"have you no intention of making yourself tidy before we begin?" - -"My only intention is that of having tea as speedily as possible," -replied Katharine. "If Peter Bunce, or any other depressing personage -is likely to turn up, he may as well see me in my wet weather hat as -in anything else. Besides, I rather like myself in my wet weather hat, -in spite of the disapproval it has excited among the gods of the -neighbourhood." - -She waited instinctively for the reproof that usually came as an -accompaniment to her criticism of the neighbourhood; but Miss Esther -for once was preoccupied, and allowed her to go on undisturbed. "Mrs. -Jones has got another baby," continued Katharine. "That's the seventh. -And Farmer Rickard seems to have seized the opportunity to turn her -husband off for the winter. There positively isn't another scrap of -news,--so may I have some tea?" - -"Talking of babies," observed the Rector, looking up from his book, -"I heard this morning that some one was going to be married. Now, -whoever could it have been, I wonder!" - -"I didn't know," said Katharine, "that any one was left to be married -in this village, above the age of sixteen." - -"Ah, to be sure," continued the Rector, smiling at his unusual effort -of memory, "it was your cousin Marion. You remember Alicia Keeley, do -you not, Esther? Well, this is her daughter; they both came to stay -with us some years ago, if you remember; and she is to be married to a -barrister, whose name--my child, that is the third time I have passed -you the butter, and you have already helped yourself twice--whose name -is Paul Wilton. It's very odd," he added, with his nervous laugh, -"but, although the name is perfectly familiar to me, I do not seem to -recollect the man in the least. The only Wilton I can recall with -certainty is the exceedingly able and scholarly author of our best -work on copper tokens; but--" - -"Well, this is his son, of course, Cyril," interrupted Miss Esther -impatiently. "I should not have thought it required much effort to -remember the man who enjoyed your hospitality for at least two -months. A very nice young man he was, too,--of an excellent family, -and with a delicate regard for propriety which was most fortunate -considering the embarrassing circumstances in which we were placed at -the time. So he is going to marry into the family? What a coincidence! -I don't remember much about Marion, she was so young when she stayed -here; but if she has grown up at all like that terribly advanced -mother of hers, poor Mr. Wilton will have his hands full. How did he -meet her, I wonder? Did you ever see him in Curzon street, Katharine?" - -"Sometimes; they were engaged early in the summer. But it isn't a bit -important, is it?" said Katharine. - -"You knew they were engaged, and you have kept it to yourself all this -time?" exclaimed her aunt. "I really think you are the most -exasperating girl, Katharine!" - -"Why? I suppose it is rather cruel, though, to rob any one of the -smallest piece of gossip, in a place like this," observed Katharine -sarcastically. - -"To be sure! to be sure! I remember him perfectly," the Rector was -chuckling gleefully. "A delightful young fellow, with some knowledge -of Oriental china. We must send them a little present, my -dear,--something he would be able to appreciate. There is a delightful -Elizabethan chest at Walker's--" - -"I see no necessity for a wedding present at all," interrupted Miss -Esther. "We only know him very slightly, and we haven't seen the -Keeleys for years. If Katharine likes to send her cousin a little -remembrance, that is her own affair and she can do as she likes," she -added, with a princely condescension. "I really wonder, Cyril, that -you can make such an extravagant suggestion, with the poor crying out -at your very doors!" - -The Rector reflected on the beauty of the old oak chest he had coveted -for weeks, and sighed deeply. Katharine roused herself, and laughed in -a distinctly forced manner. - -"Send them your blessing, auntie," she said; "and congratulate Mr. -Wilton on his good fortune in entering our particular family. I am -sure it must be an alliance he has coveted ever since he first made -our acquaintance! It will only cost a penny stamp, and I am sure the -poor of the village will not grudge that for such a laudable object. -Hey-day, do let us talk about something else! Do you know the Grange -is put up for sale?" - -"You don't say so!" exclaimed Miss Esther, who was as easily diverted -as a child. "Dear me! and poor Mrs. Morton hardly laid to her last -rest! The want of feeling that that young Edward has shown throughout -is almost incredible. To requite the lifelong devotion of his mother -by selling her old home a month after her death! Ah, well, I suppose -we have all done our work here, and it is time for us to follow her!" - -"What rubbish!" cried Katharine hotly. "Why should he pretend to be -fond of his mother just because she is dead? She was never a bit fond -of him, when she was alive, and he wanted her affection badly enough -then. Besides, it can't matter to her whether the house is sold or -not, and I expect he wants the money." - -"Money? Why, she has left him every penny she had,--so what more can -he want? I know she did, for a fact, because the housekeeper told me -so." - -"I shouldn't dream of disputing such an excellent authority, but I do -know her generosity was purely accidental, and that she would have -made another will if she had not been taken ill so suddenly," said -Katharine, getting up and walking to the window. The view outside, -with the sodden lawn and the dripping trees, was as cheerless as the -conversation within. - -"The house ought not to be allowed to stand," said the Rector, with an -indignation that he never bestowed on the human imperfections so -bitterly deplored by his sister. "A wretched modern thing, belonging -to the very worst period of domestic art!" - -"They are doing it up," said Katharine from the window. "I wonder," -she added softly to the sodden lawn and the dripping trees, "if he -knows that they have mended the gap in the hedge?" Perhaps it was only -the dulness of the weather that was depressing her, but her eyes, as -she laid her cheek against the window-pane, were full of tears. Miss -Esther continued her speculations unconsciously. - -"I suppose he will travel," she said. "It amounts to seven hundred a -year, the housekeeper told me; and I'm sure it's seven hundred more -than he deserves, the unfeeling fellow!" - -"It isn't his fault that he didn't get on with his mother," said -Katharine. "People can't choose their relations, can they? And I'm -sure, under the present system, every obstacle is put in the way of -our hitting it off with our own people." - -She was almost surprised at her own vehemence in Ted's defence. She -had never seen him since the day he had called on her in Queen's -Crescent and rejected the affection she so tardily offered him, and -the smart of that rejection was still present with her, gently as he -had expressed it; but she could no more suppress her old instinct of -protection for him than she could control her thoughts. - -"I find it quite impossible to understand you, when you are in these -heartless moods," said her aunt crossly. - -"Am I heartless?" said Katharine, with her eyes still full of tears. -"I suppose that must be it; I wondered what was the matter with me -this afternoon. Of course I am in one of my heartless moods. Oh, dear, -how stupid it all is!" She sighed desperately, and turned away from -the dreary outlook. "I'm sorry I didn't gather any more news in my -excursion to the village," she went on presently, with an obvious -effort to be agreeable. "Oh, I forgot,--I met the doctor." - -"Yes? What had he to say for himself?" asked Miss Esther, whose -dignity was always subject to her curiosity. - -"He asked me to marry him, and I refused," answered Katharine; and she -broke into a peal of laughter at the immediate effect of her words. - -"What? Really, Katharine, you are perfectly incorrigible," said Miss -Esther, in a tone that was expressive rather of incredulity than of -disapproval. - -"It's very odd," observed Katharine, "that one has only to tell the -truth to be disbelieved. And I'm sure I was very sorry to be obliged -to refuse him, because I felt there was no one else in the place he -could possibly ask. Poor doctor!" - -Miss Esther said a rapid grace to show how outraged she felt, and -walked out of the room without another word. Katharine sighed once -more and looked across at her father, who was apparently absorbed in -his book and oblivious of what had been passing. But Katharine's -acquaintance with the world, short as it had been, had considerably -widened her vision, and she knew somehow as she looked at him that he -was not reading at that moment. - -"Daddy, dear daddy!" she cried, impetuously, "I couldn't help it this -afternoon, I couldn't, really! I believe I have a devil in me some -days, and this is one of them. Daddy, forgive me for being so selfish -and horrid; I hate myself for my abominable temper, I do indeed. I -think I have never been so miserable in my whole life before!" - -"My child, what is it? I don't think I quite understand," said the -Rector gently. She came and sat on the arm of his chair, and he -stroked her hair mechanically. - -"Of course you don't,--how should you?" she exclaimed, half laughing -to hide the shake in her voice. "But I wish I knew why I have these -bad fits; I would do just anything to get better, but _I can't_! When -I don't feel wretched I feel absurd, and that's ever so much worse. -Why is it that I feel like this, daddy?" - -"Shall we send for the doctor?" asked the Rector innocently; and he -wondered why she seemed amused. - -"I don't fancy he would care to come just yet," she said, demurely. -They were silent for a few moments. The Rector asked her presently if -she would like to go away again. - -"I don't know; I don't seem to want anything. Ivingdon is intolerable; -but I said I would endure it for your sake, and it seems so feeble -merely to have failed again. After all, I haven't done the least atom -of good by giving up my work and coming home, have I?" - -The Rector remembered many incidents in the last four months, and did -not contradict her; but his silence was so habitual to him that she -hardly noticed it. - -"Self-sacrifice is all very well in theory," she went on -disconsolately, "but if nobody wants you to sacrifice yourself, what's -the good of it? I don't believe there is a single Christian virtue -that works properly, when you come to practise it; and I've wasted -four good months in finding it out. Oh, dear, what a mortal idiot I've -been! I wish you understood, daddy," she added wistfully. - -"I'm not sure that I don't, Kitty," he said tentatively, and waited to -be contradicted. - -"I believe you do; I believe you always have understood!" she cried. -"But I always expect too much from people, and I never can take any -one on trust. How I can be so unlike you is a mystery to me." - -"You are like your dear mother, bless her," said the Rector with -unconscious humour; and they became silent again. - -"Do you know," she went on presently, "if you'd promise not to mind, -daddy, I half think I'd like to go away again, for a while. I've still -got some money, you know, and I might try Paris, or some new place. -It seems hopeless to stay on here, and worry Aunt Esther by -everything I do or say; I know she considers me the cross she has to -bear, but it seems a waste of Christian resignation, doesn't it?" - -"Paris?" said the Rector with animation. "By all means go to -Paris,--the most delightful place in the world! When I was a boy in -Paris-- Dear, dear, how it all comes back to me! That was before I was -ordained, to be sure; ah, those were days to be remembered! I can give -you an introduction to a friend of mine in Paris, Monsieur--Monsieur-- -Ah, it's gone now. But I can tell you the names of all his books. A -charming fellow; knew everything and did everything; there was nothing -too daring for him in those days. You'll get on with him, Kitty; the -most delightful companion a man could have, in fact!" The old Rector -was laughing like a schoolboy at his reminiscences. - -"That's all very well," said Katharine rather cruelly; "but what will -Aunt Esther say?" - -"Ah," said the Rector, looking about him apprehensively, "there is -certainly Esther to be considered." - -"Yes, there is!" sighed Katharine. And she added impetuously, "Poor -daddy! what a saint you must have been all these years! I wonder why I -never realised it before?" - -"Oh, no," said the Rector, smiling. "I'm nothing but an old fool, who -was never fit to have a daughter at all. Your mother ought to have -left me to vegetate among my books, bless her heart!" - -Katharine looked at him reflectively. - -"I am beginning to understand," she said, in her quaint, thoughtful -manner. "It has puzzled me all these months, but you have made it come -quite clear at last. I see now what they meant by calling me a prig: -it is because I have none of the qualities that would prevent you from -ever becoming one." - -"A prig?" said her father inquiringly. - -"Ah," said Katharine, "it is something of too modern a growth to have -come within your ken." She slipped off her seat, and began pacing -restlessly up and down the room. - -"A prig," she continued, more to herself than to her father, who was -watching her narrowly nevertheless, "a prig is one who tries to break -what the ordinary person is pleased to call the law of Nature, and to -substitute the law of his own reason instead. It doesn't matter that -this is what we are brought up to do, for the ordinary person insists -on our forgetting that we are intelligent beings, and only wants us to -run in the same rut as himself. And the ordinary person is very happy, -so perhaps he is right. Education makes us all prigs, and we have to -sit and wait for the particular experience that is to undo the effects -of our education. It is great waste of time to be educated, isn't it? -We are told that it is priggish to have ideals, and that is why being -young is generally equivalent to being priggish. The world won't -tolerate ideals; it sneers at us for trying to find out new ways of -being good, and it likes to see us for ever grubbing among the same -old ways of being bad. Did you know all this before, daddy? But you -never told me, did you? Do parents ever tell their children anything -useful, I wonder? Oh, I don't think so; we just have to go on until we -find it all out, and break our hearts over it, most likely!" She -paused to give a little bitter laugh. The Rector had an intent look on -his face that was foreign to it. "I should like to know," she went on, -more gently, "if it isn't possible to be brave, or steadfast, or true, -without being a prig; it simply means that we have got to go on trying -to be better than we are, and pretending that we don't know it all -the while. It is such an anomalous position for a thinking person, -isn't it? And yet, if we are honest about it we proclaim ourselves -prigs at once. _I_ am a prig, daddy. Did you know that too? I have -gloried all my life in being above the ordinary littlenesses of -womanhood; and then, when my hour came, I just learned that I was the -same old woman after all. I was proud of knowing so much, and all the -time I did not know what every ignorant woman in the world could have -told me. Oh, the world is right, after all; I know it! But it has such -uncomfortable ways of convincing us, hasn't it? I'm not bothering you, -daddy, am I?" She stopped, and looked at him anxiously. The Rector did -not speak. "Nothing will ever make you a prig," continued Katharine as -she resumed her restless walk, "or Ted either, or Marion Keeley. -Lovable people are never priggish, are they? Oh, I am never going to -try to be anything, again. I shall become as much like the ordinary -person as I can; I will let boys like Monty make love to me, and -pretend that I like it; I will let myself go, and hide away my old -feelings which were real ones, and invent a whole set of new ones for -everyday use. Oh, dear, how absurd it all is! To make one's life a -long course of deception, in order to prove to the world that we are -real! And yet, that is the only way to avoid being called a prig. It -is ridiculous to pretend that we care for what the big people think of -us. We don't. It is the little, commonplace, ordinary folk, with the -commonplace minds and the commonplace views, who make up our audience; -and we acknowledge it all our lives by being afraid of their -criticism. We play to them, and to them only, from the moment we begin -to think for ourselves, until Providence is good enough to ring down -the curtain. We make a wretched compromise with our real selves, in -order to get through life without being laughed at for taking it -seriously. And the end of it all is that we have to suffer our own -contempt, instead of the commonplace person's. But everybody does the -same, so it must be right, mustn't it? Daddy," she added suddenly, as -she came to a standstill before him, "daddy, do you think, if I don't -try to be good any more, that I shall ever become just an ordinary -pleasant person,--someone whom people will care to fall in love with? -It would be so comforting to feel that people cared to fall in love -with me. I am so tired of being thought clever and nothing else; -cleverness seems like a kind of blight that helps one to miss the -biggest thing in life. At least, I have missed it, and everybody says -I am clever. Why don't you answer me, daddy? Why, daddy! I--I do -believe you're crying!" - -"No, my child, you are mistaken," said Cyril Austen hastily. "I have -been overworking my eyes lately, that is all. You mustn't talk like -that, little girl; it--it makes me unhappy. I should never have -allowed you to go away by yourself, should I? I'm a useless old-- But -there, it is too late now. Let us talk about this Paris plan of yours. -What if I were to come too, eh?" - -"It would be beautiful!" cried Katharine. "But there is still Aunt -Esther, isn't there?" - -"Ah, yes!" said the Rector ruefully. "So stupid of me to forget!" - -They made themselves very happy for a day or two over the Paris plan. -They met like guilty conspirators when Miss Esther was out of the way, -and amused themselves by arranging a scheme which they knew quite well -she would never allow them to carry out. Katharine's spirits recovered -something of their old vigour; and Miss Esther felt more bewildered -than ever when she suddenly appeared in this new mood, and refused to -have anything more to do with the parish. - -"I am tired of good works," she announced vigorously. "They don't -answer, and they destroy one's self-respect. Some people are cut out -for that sort of thing, but I am not, and I am going to leave it to -those who are. I am never again going to make myself uncomfortable by -visiting people in their unpleasant homes. I don't want to go, for one -thing; and it isn't good for them to be patronised, for another. -Besides, they can't refuse to see me in any case, and I don't like -forcing myself upon people in that uninvited manner. I am going to be -happy in my own way, and that will give them a much fairer chance of -being happy in theirs. I've done with the whole thing." And she -returned cheerfully to the map of Paris. - -But her new-found contentment was not to be allowed a long duration. A -letter came for her a few days later, which altered the whole aspect -of affairs, and finally quenched the Paris plan. The writing was -unfamiliar to her, and she had to turn to the end of the closely -written pages to discover who had sent it to her. - -"Dear Miss Austen," it ran:-- - - "It may be a matter of great surprise to you to hear from me - in this unexpected manner. Nothing but the deep interest I - feel in one who is, I have reason to believe, as great a - friend of yours as of mine would give me the courage to take - up my pen and write to you. I have for some time past been - observing Ted's career with distress, if not with the deepest - concern. You probably know that he gave up his work in the - city on the death of Mrs. Morton, so I will not trouble you - with more details than necessity compels you to hear. Of - course you will understand the diffidence with which I - approach you on so delicate a matter; but my great friendship, - or what I might call our _mutual_ friendship, for Ted Morton - has given me the requisite courage. I do not know the reason - for what I am about to break to you; in fact, to be explicit, - I have not the slightest idea of what led him to take such a - step, but I have my own conjectures about the matter, and - these I will lay before you as briefly as the occasion - demands. For some time past, indeed, I may say for months, he - has been very depressed, and has tried to drown his trouble, - whatever it might be, in distractions of various kinds. Do not - for one moment suppose that I am making any insinuation - detrimental to Ted's reputation; far from it! But there is no - doubt that he has grown somewhat reckless in disposition, - owing possibly to this same mysterious trouble of his, and - this has hurried on the crisis which it is now my business to - communicate to you. But to avoid unnecessary details, let me - at once tell you in plain language what has happened to him. - Three days ago I met him in the Strand about seven o'clock, - and asked him to come and dine with me. He refused, with none - of the punctilious courtesy that usually characterises him, - and I left him thinking, strange as it might seem, that he - preferred to be alone. But on going to look him up at his - chambers last night, I found him in the condition which it has - become my obvious duty to describe to you. Fortunately, the - ingenuous disposition, which has made him feel his trouble - much longer than most men, has also saved him from this last - and worst step of all; for, in his ignorance, he took too - large a dose of laudanum, and the effect has mercifully been - injurious instead of fatal. He is now--" - -Katharine read no more. Nothing further could be of importance after -she had learnt so much. Ted had tried to destroy himself, and it was -on her account. - -"Whatever is the matter, Katharine? I have asked you the same question -three times," Miss Esther was saying crossly. Katharine stared at her -in reply, with large, terrified eyes. Her aunt repeated her question, -and tried to possess herself of the letter. Katharine came to herself -with a start, and snatched it back again, and thrust it into her -father's hand. - -"Read it, daddy," she tried to say, but no sound came; she seemed -possessed of a great horror that robbed her of every faculty. The -Rector smoothed out the letter silently, glanced at the florid -signature, "Barrington Montague," and began to read it without waiting -to put on his glasses. Miss Esther looked from one to the other, and -was divided between her curiosity and her annoyance. - -"Really, Katharine, you are quite devoid of manners. Am I not to have -the right to ask a simple question in my own house? Who is the letter -from, and what is it all about?" - -Dorcas lingered by the door as long as she dared, under pretence of -being wanted; but Miss Esther, who never relaxed her vigilance even in -a crisis, detected the subterfuge and ordered her sharply out of the -room. The accustomed tone of reproof helped Katharine to recover -herself. She drew a deep breath, and made an effort to speak. - -"Ted is dying," she said. "They are afraid to tell me, but I know it -is so. And it is I who have killed him, _I_! I am going to him at -once." - -The Rector was blinking his eyes as he finished reading the letter. -Miss Esther held out her hand again. - -"I insist upon your giving me that letter, Cyril," she said in her -discordant voice. Katharine struck down her hand fiercely. Her -numbness was giving way to a kind of passionate frenzy. - -"Leave it alone, Aunt Esther!" she cried vehemently. "It is no -business of yours; you don't understand; nobody understands. I have -made Ted take his life. I am going to him _now_." - -The last sentence was the only one that reached Miss Esther's -comprehension; she at once took up her usual attitude of disapproval. - -"Indeed, Katharine, you will do nothing of the kind," she exclaimed -querulously. "What are we coming to next, I wonder? I sincerely trust, -Cyril, that you will point out to your daughter that it is quite -impossible for her to visit a young man in his chambers. I really wish -that tiresome young Edward would emigrate, or marry, or do something -that would put him out of the way. What has he been doing now, I -wonder?" - -Katharine paid no heed; her eyes were fixed feverishly on her father's -face. - -"Ted is ill, and he wants me. You will let me go, daddy, won't you?" -she said imploringly. - -"I beg you to assert your authority, Cyril, by forbidding such a mad -piece of folly," cried the shrill tones of Miss Esther. Katharine -turned upon her furiously. - -"_You_, what can _you_ know about it? You have never known what it is -to want to protect some one; you don't know the awful emptiness of -having no one to care for. Daddy! you understand, don't you? I may go, -mayn't I?" - -The Rector glanced from one to the other. He had not put on his -glasses, but he did not seem to want them just then. Slowly the -tyranny of twenty years was losing its terrors for him; he even forgot -to laugh nervously as the two women stood awaiting his answer; and -although there was a smile on his face as he looked at them, it had -only been called there by a reflection on his folly in the past. He -marvelled at himself, as his eyes rested on the glowing features of -his daughter, for ever having hesitated to support her. - -"The child is in the right, Esther," he said, mildly. "I--I am fond of -the dear boy myself, and he must not be left in the hour of his need. -We will go together, eh, Kitty?" - -Miss Esther stared at him dumbly. She had never heard him speak like -that before. After all, nothing is so convincing as the sudden -assumption of power by the oppressed; and few things are more -complete than the humiliation of the oppressor. - -"Let me see," continued the Rector: "we cannot catch anything before -the 1.28. That will give us time for an early lunch, if you will -kindly see to it, Esther. Kitty, my child, do not fret over the boy; -we will soon put him to rights, eh?" - -Katharine remained immovable, with Monty's letter crunched in her -hand. "Ted has tried to kill himself--for _me_," were the words that -ran remorselessly in her mind. - -Cyril Austen walked out of the room with a firm step. Miss Esther -rattled her keys, muttered something to herself, and followed him -almost immediately. - -She was dethroned at last. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -The landlady had gone out of the room and closed the door. Katharine -stepped softly to the side of the bed, and looked at the sleeping -face. It was just the same as she had always known it, rounded and -beardless, without a line or a wrinkle, and with the hair as loose and -rumpled as it had been in the days before manhood had claimed its -submission. "Dear old Ted," she murmured to herself with a half smile, -"I don't believe he _could_ look ill, however much he tried." She -stole about the room, putting flowers in the vases, and lightening -some of its London dinginess, until the sound of her name brought her -back again to the bedside. - -"Dear old man, don't look so scared," she laughed. "We heard you were -ill, and we came up to look after you, daddy and I. Daddy is still -downstairs; he discovered an old print in the hall, and he hasn't got -any further yet. There are a lot of old prints in the hall, so I -suppose it will be ever so long before he does get any further. Isn't -it like daddy?" - -She smoothed his hair gently, and he laughed contentedly in reply. He -did not seem at all surprised to see her; Kitty always had turned up, -all his life, when he had got himself into a scrape; and it did not -occur to him at the moment that she was more or less answerable for -his present scrape. - -"Just see how hit up I am!" he said. "So poor, isn't it?" - -Her face clouded. - -"Oh, Ted, how could you do it? Ought I to have stayed in London and -looked after you?" she said reproachfully; and he saw that it was -useless to try to conceal anything from her. - -"It's all right, Kit," he hastened to explain in his humble manner. -"Don't swear, old chum! I couldn't help it, on my honour I couldn't. I -got so sick, and I just had to. And after all I played so poorly, you -see, that it didn't come off." - -Except for the subject of their conversation, they might have been -back again in the lanes at Ivingdon. They had dropped naturally into -their old boy and girl attitude, and hers was as before the stronger -personality. But there was a subtle difference in their relations -which she was the first to feel. - -"I--I am glad it didn't come off, Ted," she said, trying to speak -lightly. Ted gripped her hand for a moment, and then let it go again, -as though he were half ashamed of his momentary show of sentiment. - -"You see," he went on, in a very gruff voice, "that was the only part -I left to Providence, and Providence muffed it. I'm such a rotten -ass,-- I always was, don't you know? If it had been you, now, you -wouldn't have bungled it at all, would you?" - -"Providence never has any sense of humour," said Katharine; and she -got up hurriedly, so that he should not see her face. She poured out -some medicine, and brought it to him. - -"I say, it's awfully ripping to have you to look after me like this," -he observed. "What did Miss Esther say?" - -"She seemed upset," said Katharine, smiling slightly. "But you can -always square Aunt Esther, when it's a question of illness; there are -such a lot of texts in the Bible about illness, don't you know? By the -way, when did you last have something to eat?" - -Ted had no idea, beyond a vague notion that some one had brought him -something on a tray in the morning, which he had not looked at. So -she left him to interview the landlady, whom she found in the middle -of a long history of the print in the hall and of the part it had -played in the history of her own family as well, to which the Rector -was listening patiently though with obvious inattention. Katharine -managed to procure what she wanted, and returned with it to the sick -room. The invalid was looking more flourishing than ever. - -"You see," he explained, between the spoonfuls with which she fed him, -"he's such an awfully snide doctor. He won't let me get up, and of -course, I'm as right as rain, really. So cheap of him, isn't it?" - -In spite of his assertion, however, he was very glad to play the -invalid when she brought him some warm water, and proceeded to bathe -his hands and face. It was pleasant, after the desolation of his life -for the past six months, to lie back in a lazy attitude without -feeling particularly ill, and allow the girl he liked best in the -world to do things for him. - -"It's so rum," he remarked, "that our hands never wear out with being -washed so often. I can't think why they don't want soling and heeling -after a time, like boots." - -"I think you are right, and that your doctor _is_ rather 'snide,'" was -all Katharine said, as she carried away the basin, and looked for his -hair brushes. Ted's toilet table was characterised by a luxurious -confusion, and she lingered for a moment to arrange the silver-topped -bottles in some kind of order. "You never used to care for this sort -of thing," she remarked, holding up a bottle of _eau de toilette_; "I -remember how you teased me once, when I told you I put lavender water -in my cold bath." - -"Oh, well, of course it's beastly rot and all that," owned Ted; "but -it's the thing to do, and one must, don't you know? Hullo, what are -you playing at now?" - -"I wish you would not be quite so languid," retorted Katharine. "How -am I to brush your hair if you persist in behaving as though you were -dying? I believe you are putting it on." - -"It's not my fault if I'm not so beastly energetic as you," grumbled -Ted. "Don't play about any more, Kit; come over here and talk. And you -needn't fold up those towels; they're not used to it, really." - -"I shouldn't think they were, from the look of them. Well, what have I -got to talk about?" - -She came and sat down on the chair by his side, and he shifted his -position so that he could see her face. She could have laughed aloud -at his expression of utter contentment. - -"Oh, some rot; anything you like. You've always got lots to gas about, -haven't you? How is Ivingdon, and the Grange; and does Peter Bunce -still come in on Sunday afternoons; and has the doctor got any new -dogs? Fire ahead, Kit! you've been down there doing nothing all this -time, and you must know all there is to know, unless you're as half -alive as you used to be. Hasn't anything happened to the old place?" - -"Yes," said Katharine, smiling back at him frankly. "They have mended -the gap in the hedge." - -"The devil they have!" cried Ted. "We'll have it broken open again at -once, won't we? Why didn't you stop them? You knew I wasn't there to -tell them myself. Just like their confounded impertinence!" - -"Hush," interrupted Katharine. "You mustn't get excited, old man; it -isn't good for you." - -She smoothed his pillows and arranged his coverlet with nervous -rapidity, and Ted, submitting happily to her services, wondered -innocently what she was blushing about. But he did not trouble -himself to find out. - -"I am beastly glad I poisoned myself," he murmured, with lazy -satisfaction. - -She was glad of the diversion when the Rector arrived at last, and she -was allowed to escape into the next room. - -"Well, my boy, and how has the world gone with you?" she heard her -father say in his genial tones. - -"It's a beastly jolly world, and I'm the jolliest brute in it," was -Ted's reply. - -They took rooms in the next street, and came in every day to look -after him; and when neither the conscience of the "snide" doctor, nor -the desire of the invalid to be nursed proved sufficient to preserve -the farce of his illness any longer, they still lingered on under -pretence of being wanted, and sent carefully worded letters to Miss -Esther from which she was forced to conclude that their presence in -town was urgently required, much as they would have wished it -otherwise. What really happened was, that Ted and Katharine regularly -conducted the old Rector to the British Museum every morning, and -passed the day alone together until it was time to fetch him away -again in the afternoon. And in the evenings they initiated him into -the joys of a music hall, or introduced him to a new comedian; and the -Rector was happier than he had ever been since the well-remembered -days in Paris. As for Katharine, her feelings defied her own powers of -description; she only knew that she had the sensation of waking up -from a long, bad dream. Perhaps Ted felt the same. "You've cured the -biggest hump I ever had in my life," was the way he expressed it. - -Looking back on the even tenor of those few weeks, afterwards, -Katharine was at a loss to remember what she had talked about to Ted -in the many hours they had spent together. Perhaps they had not talked -at all; at the time it never seemed to matter whether they did or not; -at all events, their conversation usually lacked the personal element -that alone makes conversation distinctive. There was nothing -surprising to Katharine in this: as long as she could remember Ted had -been the one person in the world to whom it was impossible to talk -about one's self; and his sympathy for her was as completely -superficial as her love for him was mainly protective. - -Once or twice she was led inadvertently into making a confidant of -him. - -"I wonder why I never seem to feel things acutely now," she said to -him one day as they were strolling along the Embankment. "I don't seem -to care a bit what happens next, except that I have a sort of -conviction it is going to be pleasant. I seem to want waking up again. -Do you know what I mean, Ted?" - -"Oh, it's nothing; you're feeling played, that's all," answered Ted, -reassuringly. "My experience is that you're either played, or you're -not played; and when you are, you'd better have a drink to buck you -up. We'll have a cab, and lunch somewhere. Where shall we go to-day?" - -And Katharine laughed at his practical view of things, and wondered -why she had expected him to understand. Another time, it was Ted -himself who gave the conversation a personal turn. - -"Humps are deuced odd things," he observed, rather suddenly. It was a -dull, warm afternoon in December, and they had been sitting idly for -some minutes on one of the benches in the park, overlooking the -Serpentine. "You feel that everything is awfully decent, and bills be -hanged, and all that; and you curse your tailor and have a good time, -and it doesn't matter if it snows. And then, when it's rather a bore -to be under an obligation to a rotten little tradesman, or you want a -new coat or something, and you pay up and feel awfully virtuous and -don't owe a blessed halfpenny in the world, except for shirts and -things that never expect to be paid for,--_then_, you go and get the -very deuce of a hump." - -"Whole books might be written on the psychological aspect of the -hump," murmured Katharine. - -"Look at those bounders, now," said Ted, who had not heard her. "It -doesn't matter to _them_ that rowing on the Serpentine on Saturday -afternoon isn't the thing to do, especially in frock coats and -bowlers. It makes one quite sorry for them, to see how little they -know; they don't even know they are bounders, poor devils! But _they_ -never get the hump, confound them!" - -"All the same," said Katharine, "it is a big price to pay for an -immunity from humps, isn't it?" - -"Life must be awfully easy, if you're a bounder," continued Ted. "You -haven't got to be in good form, and you can walk about with any sort -of girl you please, and you needn't worry about the shape of your -hat, and it doesn't matter if you are seen on a green Brixton 'bus. It -saves so much thinking, doesn't it?" - -"Yes," said Katharine. "But you have to be a bounder all the same, and -you know you can't even contemplate such a possibility, or -impossibility, without shuddering. By the way, is all this intended to -convey that you have got the hump this afternoon?" - -"Oh, no," said Ted, with restored cheerfulness. "I ought never to have -been born, of course; but that's quite another matter." - -Late that evening the Rector proposed returning to Ivingdon. They had -just been to the theatre, and Ted had asked them in to supper -afterwards. Every trace of his mood of that afternoon had disappeared, -and he was wrangling with Katharine over the strength of the Rector's -toddy with all the energy of which his languid nature was capable. -Katharine put down the tumbler she was holding and looked swiftly -round at her father. - -"Oh, daddy, not yet!" she cried impetuously. "I am happy now; don't -let us spoil it all by going home. I feel as though something horrible -would happen if we went home now. Can't we wait a little longer? I -have never been happy like this before." - -The Rector murmured something about its being three weeks to -Christmas, but his sense of duty was obviously a perfunctory one, and -he soon found he was not being listened to. And Ted's hand closed over -her fingers as he took the hot glass from her, and his face shone with -pleasure and his voice trembled, as he whispered, "Thank you for that, -dear." - -She did not shrink from him as she had done once before when he had -looked at her with that same eager expression in his eyes. - -"I don't know a bit whether I love him in the real way," she told her -mirror that night. "I don't know anything about myself at all. I -believe the prig is inborn in me, after all, and that it would suit me -far better to fight for a living in the world, than to stay at home -and just make Ted happy. But all the same, if he asks me again I shall -marry him. It has been so peaceful lately, and I have felt so happy, -and marriage with Ted will mean peace if it doesn't mean anything more -thrilling than that. Dear old Ted; why isn't he my brother, or my son, -or some one I could just mother, and go on living my own life the -while? Ah, well, he is going to be my husband; how strange it sounds! -I wonder if women like me are ever allowed to be happy in their own -way, gloriously and completely happy as I know I could be? But I -suppose it is only the prig in me that thinks so. And Ted shall never -know that I want more than he can possibly give me. Oh, Ted, old chum, -I do love you so for loving me!" - -A visit to Queen's Crescent slightly unsettled her. She took her -father with her and introduced him to Phyllis Hyam, and tried to -convince herself that she was glad she was not coming back any more; -but in spite of the unfamiliarity of being there as a visitor, and the -difficulty of finding topics of conversation for the Rector and Miss -Jennings, who obviously misunderstood each other's attempts to be -friendly, the sight of the dingy little hall and of Phyllis's round, -good-humoured face, brought enough reminiscences to her mind to make -her a little regretful as well. - -"Do you still have bread and treacle, and is Polly Newland glad I have -gone, and does any one ever talk about me?" she asked with interest. -Even Phyllis looked strange, as though her best dress had been thrown -on hurriedly and the distinction of being admitted to "Jenny's" room -were rather too much for her; but there was a familiarity about her -style of conversation that was consoling. - -"Oh, yes," she replied in her off-hand way; "when we have a new one -put into our room we always remember how blue you looked the first -night you came. We haven't had a 'permanent' in our room since you -left; and there have been some cheerful specimens, too! One was a -nurse, who made the place smell eternally of disinfectants; and -another kept bits of food in her drawer, and encouraged mice; and a -third insisted on having the window shut. The curtains haven't been -washed, either, since you made that row about them. I say, when are -you coming back again?" - -"You don't offer much inducement," laughed Katharine. "But I am not -coming back, in any case." - -"Going to get married?" asked Phyllis sharply. Katharine smiled, and -did not contradict her. It was not an insinuation that one would be -anxious to contradict in a place like Queen's Crescent, however -diffident one might feel about it elsewhere. Phyllis shrugged her -shoulders. "Well, don't go and make a hash of it," she said. "You're -not the sort to be happy with any one, especially if it's made too -easy for you. Well off? Of course; and worships the ground you tread -on, I suppose! Oh, well, it's none of my business, and I only hope you -haven't made a mistake. It's a risky thing at the best; and you were -very happy here most of the time, and you've got to better that, you -know. I wish you luck, I'm sure, but it takes a woman to understand -any one like you, and I should like to see the man who thinks he does -it as well." - -"I hope you will some day," said Katharine, politely. But Phyllis did -not respond with any warmth, and Katharine was glad to return to the -masculine indifference of Ted. It was difficult to worry about the -future in Ted's company; even the fact that he had not yet formally -proposed to her did not seem to cause him any anxiety. It certainly -made no difference in the freedom of their intercourse; and, as long -as there was no immediate necessity for action, Ted was not the one to -take the initiative. "I believe I shall have to propose to him -myself," was the thought that sometimes crossed her mind as she -studied his placid, good-looking face. But after her visit to Queen's -Crescent, she began to wish he would not be quite so casual about it; -for, without allowing even to herself that Phyllis's want of -encouragement had in any way affected her decision, she had a -lingering feeling that the present state of things could not go on for -ever, and that it would be better for her, at all events, to have the -matter definitely settled. So she made a kind of attempt, a day or two -later, to rouse his apprehensions. - -"Phyllis was wondering if I was ever coming back again to my work," -she said to him abruptly. - -"Oh, was she? Rather a nice girl, Phyllis, if she didn't dress so -badly," observed Ted unconsciously. They were at a Wagner concert in -the Queen's Hall, and the Siegfried Idyll had just drawn to a close. -It seemed to her an auspicious moment. - -"I said I was never coming back," pursued Katharine, studying his -profile critically. - -"Of course not," said Ted, humming the refrain they had just heard. - -For once, Katharine felt faintly annoyed with him for his want of -proper sentiment. - -"I don't believe you care whether I do or not," she said in a piqued -tone. - -"Eh, what?" said Ted, staring round at her in blank amazement. "Ought -I to have said anything else? But you settled that long ago, Kit, -didn't you? There is nothing more to be said about it, is there?" - -"Oh, no, of course not," said Katharine, in what seemed to him a most -unreasonable manner; "but all the same, I'm not at all sure that I -sha'n't go back when the term begins again." - -Ted stared more than ever. - -"Oh, rats!" he exclaimed, heartily. "What's wrong, Kitty? Have you -been hit up to-day, or anything? I'm such a rotten ass, I never know. -Of course you're never going to grind any more; what an idea!" - -"Why not?" asked Katharine, with uncomfortable persistence. Ted began -to make fresh assertions, but paused in the middle and hesitated. He -suddenly realised that there was only one answer to her question, and -that he would have to make it now. He looked down and made havoc with -his programme, and stammered hopelessly until Katharine took pity on -him and came to his assistance with a laugh. - -"It's all right, old man; I am never going back, of course," she said; -and Ted brightened up again when he found that he need not propose to -her yet, and was obviously relieved at the establishment of their old -relations. She did nothing more to change them, and the only result of -her abortive attempt was, that Ted was more attentive to her than -before, and constantly made little plans for taking her to some -unfrequented museum or picture gallery, evidently with some design in -his mind which he had not the courage to carry out. - -"Poor old Ted," she thought to herself, after they had spent a dull -and silent afternoon at the Royal Institute among the colonial -produce; "I wonder if he will ever get it out!" - -Curiously enough, through all the weeks she spent in town, the thought -of Paul Wilton rarely crossed her mind; and when it did she felt that -it referred to some former life of hers, with which this present calm -existence had no connection. Sometimes she wondered idly whether he -were married yet, and if so, whether he ever gave a thought to her; -but she could think of Marion as his wife without a regret, and she -was glad to find that she had no desire whatever to see him again. The -impression he seemed to have left in her mind, after all these months, -was that of a disturbing element which had brought the greatest -unhappiness into her life she had ever been forced to endure. It was -inconsequent, perhaps, that, thinking thus, she should have been -emphatic in her refusal to go and see the Keeleys; but although she -was incapable of explaining why she felt so strongly about such a -small matter, she was at least genuine in her belief that he had no -further place in her thoughts. - -And then, two days before they left town, she met him at last. - -It was in Bury Street, late on a foggy afternoon, as she was on her -way to the Museum with Ted. She had stopped with an exclamation of -delight in front of an old book shop, and the owner, who was talking -to an intending purchaser inside, came out good-naturedly and offered -to light the gas jet over the tray of dusty volumes. "I shall have to -stop now," whispered Katharine; "supposing you go on for daddy and -bring him back here?" - -The light flared up, and made a bright semicircle in the gloom that -was fast closing up round the shop. The customer who was inside -concluded his purchase, and came out just as Ted was strolling off. -Apparently they did not see each other, and the fog soon swallowed up -the retreating form; but Katharine turned round at this moment from -the book she was examining, and met the stranger face to face. - -"Ah," he said, quietly; "at last!" - -"Yes," she repeated; "at last!" - -It did not strike her until afterwards that it was not at all the mode -of address with which she would have greeted him had she been more -prepared; but at the time it came quite naturally to her lips. He -still held her hand as he went on speaking. - -"And Ted? Where have you sent him? Will he be long?" - -She resented the implication in his words. - -"I have not sent him anywhere. He has gone to fetch my father from the -Museum; they will be back directly. Do you mean to say you recognised -Ted in that instant?" - -"Why, surely! Did you not recognise me, although I was standing back -there in the shadow?" - -"Of course I didn't," cried Katharine hotly, as she pulled away her -hand. "I never saw you until you came out into the light. I should -have stopped Ted if I had." - -"Oh, to be sure; pardon my mistake. Of course you would have detained -Ted in that case." And he smiled as though he were faintly amused at -something. - -She had noticed his glad look of recognition, and she hated him for -it. What right had he to be glad to see her? And now that he was -laughing at her and making insinuations about Ted, true insinuations -moreover, she hated him still more for his acuteness. - -"So you are back in town?" he was saying, with what appeared to be -meant for a kindly interest. "I am not surprised, though. I always -knew you would have to come back." - -"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling more annoyed than ever. It was -so like him to know everything about her without being told, and then -to put a complexion upon it that he gave her no opportunity of -contradicting. "We came up, daddy and I, because Ted was ill; and we -are going back again on Wednesday." - -"Really? My mistake again. It is difficult to imagine Ted except in -the complete enjoyment of his health. Not seriously ill, I hope?" - -"Oh, no," she said, with an uncomfortable conviction that she was -being made to expose herself in all her weakness; "but there was no -one to nurse him, so I came. He is all right now." - -"So I should judge from the brief glimpse I had of him just now. Lucky -fellow, Ted! He looked very jolly, I thought; no doubt he has good -cause for his happiness. You are looking well too, if I may say so. It -is very delightful to be young, is it not?" - -She felt a wild rage against him for detecting the situation so -absolutely, and for making it merely a subject for his raillery. She -did not know how she would have wished him to take it, but she hated -him all the same for so calmly accepting it. - -"I don't understand you," she said, speaking rapidly. "It isn't a bit -delightful; you know it isn't. You know I hate you; you know I am the -most miserable person in the whole world. You know everything there is -to know about me; and I hate you! Why did you come back to spoil it -all, when I was trying so hard to be happy?" - -Her own words amazed her. She knew they were true as she spoke them; -but she had not known it ten minutes ago. - -"I'm sorry," he said, gravely. "Shall I go?" - -He had completely dropped his jesting tone, but she hated him for his -pity even more than she had hated him for his ridicule; she tried to -speak, but her anger choked her utterance. - -"When will you be at Ivingdon again?" he asked. "Did you say -Wednesday? And you are going to leave Ted in town?" - -She asked herself why he did not go, instead of standing there and -making conversation by inventing questions to which he could not -possibly want to know the answers. But she mechanically made a -gesture in the affirmative to both of them; and he repeated his former -inquiry with gentle insistence. - -"Shall I go now?" - -"Yes, go!" she cried fiercely, and ignored the hand he proffered her, -and let him go without another word. - -The fog swallowed him up, and she stood and gazed at the place where -he had stood, and wondered vaguely if he had been there at all or if -she had not dreamt the whole incident. For one moment the wild impulse -seized her to rush after him into the fog and the darkness, and to -implore him to take her with him anywhere, so long as she might be -with him. And then a smile flickered across her face as the bookseller -came out and spoke to her; and she paid for the first volume she -picked up; and the Rector and Ted emerged from the fog into the -semicircle of light, and life resumed its ordinary aspect again. - -"Has he gone?" asked Ted. - -"Who? Mr. Wilton? I did not know you saw him. Oh, yes; he went some -time ago. Isn't this a jolly little thing I have picked up?" said -Katharine lightly; and Ted apparently thought no more about it. - -That evening she was almost feverishly gay. The Rector sat and smiled -happily as she turned everything that occurred into ridicule, and made -every passer-by a subject for her wit. They did not go to a theatre, -on account of the bad weather; and when Monty dropped in to coffee -later on, she kept him in a perpetual condition of adoring approval -until the fact of Ted's gloomy silence was gradually forced upon her, -and she blamed herself hotly for her stupidity. She was very cool to -Monty after she had realised her blunder; and the poor fellow, who was -quite ignorant of his offence, took the first opportunity to depart. -Even then, in spite of her efforts to be kind to him, Ted did not -wholly recover his spirits; and she sighed inwardly as she reflected -that she could not even be sure of accomplishing the one task she had -set herself to perform. - -And the next day her old restlessness possessed her again. All the -work of the past six weeks seemed to have been suddenly undone; -nothing brought her any happiness, she reflected bitterly; she was -incapable of happiness and it was absurd of her to have expected to -find it. All the same, perhaps if Ted were to say something to -her--but Ted still said nothing, and went about making plans for her -enjoyment on this her last day in town, as though their coming -separation were of no matter at all; and he seemed as unconscious of -her change of mood as he had been all along of her unusual -contentment. The day was not a success; their little improvised -amusements had been far more satisfactory than the carefully planned -ones of to-day, and Ted's silence on the one subject of interest grew -more marked as the time wore on, and ended in raising an uncomfortable -barrier between them. Once she felt sure that he would have spoken if -the Rector had not come in unexpectedly; and once, he startled her by -suddenly taking both her hands in his and looking into her eyes for a -full minute, while she waited passively for him to speak. But he -turned very red instead, and called himself a fool and hurried out of -the room, and left her half amused and half regretful. She felt very -tender towards him after that; and the old desire to mother him was -very strong within her when they stood together at last on the -platform at Euston, and had only a few moments left in which to say -what was in their minds. - -"God bless you, dear! I shall see you again soon?" was all she could -bring herself to say in that last moment. - -"No--yes--perhaps. I am going to write to you quite soon. I'm a rotten -ass, as you know, but--you will try and understand, won't you, Kitty?" - -The train went on, and she leaned out of the window and laughed. - -"I am sure I shall understand," she said. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -She waited in vain during the next two days for Ted's letter. His -parting words to her, however, seemed to have again restored her peace -of mind; and the virtuous mood in which she returned to Ivingdon was -so unprecedented as to rouse surprise rather than the admiration it -deserved. The climax was reached when Miss Esther insisted on giving -her a tonic. - -"It is very ridiculous," she remonstrated, "that one is never allowed -to drop one's characteristic attitude for a moment. If I had come home -and behaved as childishly as I usually do, you would have been quite -satisfied; but just because I am inclined to be civilised for a -change, you choose to resent it. One would think you had taken out a -patent for all the virtues." - -"My dear, that is doubtless very clever, but I wish you would drink up -this and not keep me standing," returned her aunt, who was, as ever, -occupied with actions and not with theories about them; and Katharine -had to seek consolation for her temporary discomfort in the absurdity -of the situation. - -She wondered slightly why Ted had not written to her at once, but -after the vacillation he had already shown she was not unprepared for -a further delay; it was more than likely that he found the -complexities of writing what he could not speak to be greater than he -supposed, and it amused her to conjecture that he would probably end -in coming to her for the help he had learnt to expect from her in all -the crises of his life. Meanwhile, there was a whole lifetime before -them in which they could work out the effects of their action, and in -her present mood she saw no satisfactory reason for hurrying it; she -did not realise how persistently she was recalling every instance of -Ted's kindness to her, as if to strengthen her resolution, and she was -unconscious of the doggedness with which she avoided dwelling on a -certain episode in the London visit which she had never even mentioned -to her father. She had cheated herself, by degrees, into a complacency -that she mistook for resignation. - -At last, by the mid-day post on Saturday morning, she received her -letter. It came with another one, written in a hand that brought -association without distinct recollection to her mind; and she opened -the latter first, principally because it was the one that interested -her least. The first page revealed its identity; it was from Mrs. -Downing, and was characteristically full of underlined words and -barely legible interpolations, and she was obliged to read it through -twice before she was able to grasp its meaning. The drift of it was -that the enterprising lady principal was about to open a branch of her -school in Paris, where everything was to be French, "_quite_ French, -you know, my dear Miss Austen,--staff, conversation, cooking, games, -_everything_; a place to which I can send on the dear children from -here when they want finishing. The French are such _delicious_ people, -are they not? _So_ unique, and _so_ French!" The morals, however, were -to be English; so, in spite of the unique French element in the French -character, there was to be an English head to the establishment, and -it was this position that she proceeded in a maze of extravagant -compliments to offer to her former junior mistress. "Not a duenna, of -_course_, for that will be supplied in the person of the excellent -Miss Smithson, who will act nominally as housekeeper, and make an -_exquisite_ background to the whole. There are always some of those -dear foolish mammas who will insist on placing propriety before -education,--so benighted, is it not? But Miss Smithson was intended by -Nature, I am sure, to propitiate that kind of mamma; while _you_, my -dear Miss Austen, I intend to be something more than a background. I -look to you to give a _tone_ to the school, to manage the working of -it all,--the amusements, the lectures, indeed, the whole _régime_; to -be responsible for the dear children's happiness, and to see that they -write happy letters home every week,--to take _my_ place, in fact. I -could tell you _all_ in two minutes, etc., etc." - -Katharine laid down the letter with an involuntary sigh; the position -it offered was full of attractions to her, and the salary would have -been more than she had ever hoped to demand. "I wish she had asked me -six weeks ago," she said aloud, and then accused herself fiercely of -disloyalty and picked up Ted's letter, and studied the boyish -handwriting on the envelope as though to give herself courage to open -it. She had wanted to be alone with his letter, and had carefully -watched her father out of the house before shutting herself into the -study; so the sound of a footstep on the gravel path outside brought a -frown to her face, and she remained purposely with her back to the -window so that the intruder, whoever he was, should see that she did -not mean to be disturbed. But the voice in which she heard her name -spoken through the open window arrested her attention. - -She dropped the unopened letter on the table, and turned slowly round -to face the speaker. The strangeness of his coming, when she had been -obstinately putting him out of her thoughts since last Monday, had a -paralysing effect upon her nerves; and Paul swung himself over the low -window seat, and reached her side in time to save her from falling. -She recovered herself immediately, however, and shrank back from his -touch. - -"I do not understand why you are here," she found herself saying with -difficulty. - -"That is what I have come to explain," he replied. "I could hardly -expect you to understand." - -His tone was curiously gentle. It struck her, as she looked at him -again, that he was very much altered. She had not noticed his -appearance much as he stood outside the book shop, with the dark fog -at his back; but now, as the light from the window behind fell full -on his head she saw the fresh streaks of white in the black hair, and -the sight affected her strangely. Perhaps, while she in her arrogance -had believed him to be living in an ill-gotten contentment, he, too, -had had something to suffer. - -"Won't you sit down?" she said, and took a chair herself, and waited -for him to begin. The one idea in her mind was that he should not -suspect her of nervousness. - -"You were kind enough, when we last met in the summer," began Paul, -"to congratulate me on my engagement to your cousin. I am going to ask -you to extend your kindness now, and to congratulate us both on being -released from that engagement." - -Katharine looked wonderingly at him. But there was nothing to be -gathered from his face. She smiled rather sadly. - -"Poor Marion!" she said, softly. "Isn't anybody to be allowed to -remain happy?" - -"You mistake me," he corrected her carefully. "Your cousin took the -initiative in the matter; she is obviously the one to be -congratulated." - -"And you?" - -"I? Oh, I suppose I have only my own ignorance to blame. If I had had -more knowledge of women, I should have known better what was expected -of me. As it is, my engagement has proved a complete failure." - -There was a pause, till Katharine roused herself to speak in a -lifeless kind of voice that did not seem to belong to her. - -"I am sorry if it has made you unhappy," she said. Paul looked at her -critically. - -"Are you sure?" he asked, smiling. - -Katharine folded and unfolded her hands uneasily, and wished he would -go away and remove his disquieting presence from her life for ever. - -"Oh, yes," she said. "One is always sorry when people are unhappy, of -course." - -"Only that?" His voice had a touch of disappointment in it, and she -began to tremble for her composure. He got up and walked to the window -and looked across the lawn, where the wintry sun was struggling -through the bare branches of the elm trees and making faint intricate -patterns on the whitened grass below. "This is where I first met you, -three years ago," he went on as though he were talking to himself. -"You were only a child then, and you interested me. I used to wonder -what there was about you that interested me so much, a mere child like -you! You were very sweet to me in those days, Katharine." - -"I--I wish you wouldn't," said Katharine. But he did not seem to hear -her. - -"Most men would have behaved differently, I suppose," he went on, -still looking away from her. "It is very fatal to admit the -possibility, even to ourselves, of making a new system for an effete -civilisation like ours; and I was a fool to suppose that women could -be dealt with by any but the obvious methods. It is my own fault, of -course, that in my anxiety to keep your respect I managed to destroy -your affection." - -She wanted to vindicate herself, to protest against what seemed to her -his confident self-righteousness; but the old influence was creeping -over her again, and it numbed her. - -"I wish you would not say those things," she said, weakly. The -unopened letter lying on the red table-cloth seemed like a protest -against the futility of the scene that was passing, and she found -herself controlling a desire to laugh at the mockery of it all. - -He turned round again with a half-suppressed sigh, and took out his -watch. - -"Just twelve," he said, reflectively. "I must be off if I mean to -walk to the station. You will forgive me for having worried you with -all this? I had a sort of feeling that I should like to tell you about -it myself; our old friendship seemed to demand that little amount of -frankness, though I suppose you will think I have no right to talk -about friendship any longer. I acknowledge that I have given you every -reason to be vexed with me; if I can ever do anything to remove the -disagreeable impression from your mind, I hope you will let me know. -Good-bye." - -"You--you are not going?" She had risen too, and was standing between -him and the door. She did not know why she wished to keep him, but she -knew she could not let him go. - -"Unless you can show me a satisfactory reason for remaining," was his -reply. She was trembling violently from head to foot. - -"I cannot bear that you should leave me like this," she said in a low -voice. - -"It rests with you to say whether I am to go or not," said Paul in the -same tone. She was looking straight into his eyes; but what she saw, -for all that, was the unopened letter on the red table-cloth. She put -out her hands as if to push him away from her, but he mistook her -movement and grasped them both in his own. - -"Don't, oh, don't!" she cried, struggling feebly to release herself. -"I want you to go away, please. I thought it was all over and that I -should never see you again, and I was beginning to feel happy, just a -little happy; and now you have come back, and you want it to begin all -over again, and I can't let it,--I am not strong enough! Oh, won't you -go, please?" - -"If you send me, I will go," said Paul, and waited for her answer. But -none came, and he laughed out triumphantly. She had never heard him -laugh so thoroughly before. - -"I knew you couldn't, you proud little person," he said, with a sudden -tenderness in his smile. "The woman in you is so strong, is it not, -Katharine? Ah, I know far more about you than you know yourself; but -you don't believe that, do you? Shall I tell you why I came to you -to-day? It was just to say to you that I could not live without you -any longer. Isn't that strange? I have been brutally frank with you -to-day, Katharine, there is not another woman in the world who would -have taken it as you have done. I knew you would, before I came to -you; and the knowledge gives me courage to tell you one thing more. -You know the failure of my attempt to marry for ambition; will you, in -your sweetness, help me to marry for love?" - -He dropped her hands and moved away from her. The delicacy of his -action, slight though it was, appealed to her strongly. She turned her -back to the table to avoid seeing the white letter on the red -table-cloth. - -"I cannot marry you," she said, hurriedly. "I would have been your -slave a few months ago, but I cannot be your wife now." - -Except for a tightening of his lips, he did not move a feature. - -"That is not true; I cannot believe it," he said shortly. - -"Why not?" she asked in a tired voice. She hoped he would not guess -how near she was to submission. - -"Because it is not possible. You are not the kind of woman who -changes. You must love me now, because you loved me then. You cannot -deny that you loved me then?" - -"No," said Katharine, "I cannot deny it." - -"Then why do you pretend that you do not love me still? I do not -believe it is because of my engagement to your cousin. You are made of -finer clay than others, and--" - -"Oh, no; that is not the reason," she said, interrupting him -impatiently. - -"Will you not tell me why it is?" he asked, approaching her again. -There was no mistaking the tenderness in his tone now, and she cast -about in her mind for some excuse to dismiss him before she completely -lost her power of resistance. "Have I made you so angry that you will -never forgive me?" - -"No, no; you never made me angry," she protested. "But you made me -feel absurd, and that is ever so much worse. I cannot be sure, now, -that you are not merely laughing at me. Have you forgotten that you -once thought me a prig? I have not altered; I am still a prig. How can -you want to marry me when you have that image of me in your mind? It -is hopeless to think of our marrying,--you with a secret contempt for -me, and I with a perpetual fear of you!" - -The man in him alone spoke when he answered her. - -"Surely, it is enough that we love each other?" - -She shook her head. - -"Ah, you know it is not," she replied, with the strange little smile -that had so often baffled him. "I--I do so wish you would -understand--and go. Or shall I find my father and tell him that you -are here?" - -He laid his hand against her cheek, and watched her closely. - -"Is it all over,--our friendship, your love for me, everything?" he -whispered. "Do you remember how sweetly you nursed me three years ago? -Have you forgotten the jolly talks we had together in the Temple? And -all the fun we had together in London? Is it all to come to an end -like this?" - -"I can't marry you; I don't love you enough for that," she said, -moving restively under his touch. He stroked her cheek gently. - -"Then why do you thrill when I touch you?" he asked. "Why do you not -send me away?" It was his last move, and he watched its effect -anxiously. She looked at him helplessly. - -"I--I do send you away," she said faintly, and he made her join feebly -in the laugh against herself. There was something contemptible in her -surrender, she felt, as he folded her in his arms and looked down at -her with a manly air of possession. - -"If this is not love what is it, you solemn little Puritan?" he -murmured. - -"I don't know," said Katharine dully. She submitted passively to his -embrace, and allowed him to kiss her more than once. - -"Of course you don't know," he smiled. "What a woman you are, and how -I love you for it! Don't be so serious, sweetheart; tell me what you -are thinking about so deeply?" - -It was pity for him, her old genuine love for him reawakening, that -made her at last rouse herself to tell him the truth. - -"Will you please let me go, Paul?" she asked submissively. And as he -loosened his arms and allowed her to go, she took one of his hands and -led him with feverish haste round to the table, where Ted's letter -still lay like a silent witness against herself. They stood side by -side and looked at it, the white envelope on the red table-cloth, and -it was quite a minute before the silence was broken. Then Katharine -pulled him away again and covered up the letter with her hand and -looked up in his face. - -"Do you know what is in that letter?" she asked, and without waiting -for a reply went on almost immediately. "It is from Ted, to ask me to -be his wife." - -"And you are going to say--" - -"Yes." - -Paul smiled incredulously. - -"It is impossible," he said. "I decline to believe what you say now, -after what you said to me on Monday afternoon." - -"Ah," she cried, "I was mad then. You always make me mad when I am -with you. You must not talk any more of Monday afternoon; you must -forget what I said to you then, and what I have said to you to-day; -you must forget that I have allowed you to kiss me--" - -"Forget?" interrupted Paul. "Are _you_ going to forget all this?" - -She turned away with a little cry. - -"You make it so hard for me, Paul; and it seemed so easy before you -came!" - -"Then it doesn't seem so easy now?" - -She evaded his question. "I know I am right, because I thought it all -out when you were not here," she went on piteously. "I cannot trust -myself even to think properly when you are there; you make me quite -unlike myself. That is why I am going to marry Ted. Ted is the sanest -person I know; he leaves me my individuality; he doesn't paralyse me -as you do; and I am simply myself when I am with him." - -"Simply yourself!" echoed Paul. "My dear little girl, whatever in -heaven or earth has allowed such a misapprehension to creep into your -head?" - -"I know what you mean," she said. "I have thought that out, too. You -know more about me than anybody in the whole world; Ted will never -know as much as you know, although I am going to be his wife. You are -the only person I could ever talk to about myself; you are the only -person who understands. I know all that. But one does not want that in -a husband; one wants some one who will be content with half of one's -self, and allow the other half to develop as it pleases. You would -never be content with less than the whole, would you, Paul? Ah, that -is why I loved you so madly! It is so queer, isn't it, that the very -things that make us fall in love are the very things that make -marriage impossible?" - -He did not speak, and she put her arms round his neck impulsively and -drew his head down to hers. - -"Don't you understand, dear?" she said. "It is impossible to find -everything we want in one person, so we have to be content with -satisfying one side of ourselves, or accept the alternative and not -marry at all. Ted wants me badly, or I would rather choose not to -marry at all. But he must have some one to look after him,--he can't -live alone like some men; and I have always looked after him all my -life. He has come in my way again now, so I am going to look after him -to the end. I am very fond of Ted, and we have learnt to be chums, so -I don't think it will be a failure. Oh, do say you understand, Paul?" - -"Do you love him?" asked Paul. - -"Yes," she replied. - -"As you loved me?" - -"No," said Katharine, simply. "I could never love any one again like -that. I wore myself out, I think, in my love for you. Oh, I know I am -spoiled; I know I have only the second best of myself to give to Ted; -but if he is content with that, ought I not to be glad to give it?" - -"But _you_, your own happiness," he urged brokenly. "Have you no -thought for your own happiness?" - -"Happiness?" she said, smiling again. "Oh, I do not expect to find -happiness. Women like me, who ask for more than life can possibly give -them, have no right to expect the same happiness as the people who -have found out that it is better to make a compromise and to take -what they can get! Oh, I shall never be greatly happy, I know that. -But I do not mind much; it is enough for me that I did once taste the -real, glorious happiness, if it was only in snatches." - -"Won't you taste it again?" he said, drawing her suddenly to him. -"Won't you give up this impossible scheme of yours, and come to me? We -will be married over there by your father,--now,--this very day. We -will go abroad, travel, do what you will. Only come with me, -Katharine. You belong to me, and to me only; you dare not deny it. -Come with me, Katharine." - -"No," she said, shaking her head. "I am not going to spoil your life, -as you have spoilt mine. You will be a great man, Paul, if you do not -marry me." - -"Listen," he said, without heeding her. "This is the last time I shall -ask you; this is the last time I shall hold you in my arms,--_so_. I -shall go away after this, and you will never see me again, nor hear of -me again. I shall never kiss you any more, nor ask you to come away -with me, nor tell you I love you as I never loved another woman. If -you come to me on your knees and beg me to love you again, I will not -relent. Do you understand me? This is the last, the very last time. -_Now_ what have you to say? Will you come with me?" - -She threw back her head and met his gaze as he bent over her. - -"No," she said again. He covered her face with kisses. - -"And now?" - -"No," she repeated desperately; and she crept away from him at last, -and took her letter from the table and tried to walk to the door. - -A slippered footstep shuffled along the hall and stopped outside the -library door. The next moment the Rector was in the room. - -"Kitty, my child, have you seen my hat anywhere? I feel convinced I -put it down somewhere, and for the life of me--" - -He paused as he saw Paul, and held out his hand with a smile of -welcome. - -"Delighted to see you again, my dear sir, delighted! That is to say," -added the old man, looking to Katharine for assistance, "I suppose I -_have_ seen you before, though for the moment I cannot quite recall -your name. But my memory is getting a bad one for names, a very bad -one, eh, Kitty? Anyhow, you will stop to lunch, of course; and -meanwhile, if I can only find my hat--" - -"Daddy, it is Mr. Wilton," explained Katharine, making an effort to -speak in her usual voice. Strange to say, it did not seem difficult to -become usual again now that her father was in the room. "He stayed -with us once, a long time ago; you remember Mr. Wilton, don't you?" - -"To be sure, to be sure; of course I remember Mr. Wilton perfectly!" -said the Rector, shaking hands with him again. "I can remember -distinctly many of our little talks on archæology and so forth. Let me -see, any relation to the great numismatist? Ah, now I know who you are -quite well. There was an accident, or a calamity of some sort, if I -recollect rightly. Kitty, my child, have you found my hat?" - -"Will you stay to lunch?" Katharine was asking him. - -"Of course he will stay to lunch," cried the Rector, without giving -him time to reply. "I've picked up some fine specimens of old -Sheffield plate that I should like to show you, Mr. Wilton. Stay to -lunch? Why, of course. Dear me, I know I saw it somewhere-- Got to -catch the two-thirty? Oh, that's all right; we'll drive you to the -station after lunch. That child will like a chat with you, eh, Kitty? -You used to be great friends, and she has something--no, no, I've -looked there twice--something of interest to tell you, something of -very great interest, eh, Kitty? A nice young fellow he is, too," -continued the old man, stopping for a moment in his fruitless search. -"By the way, you know him, don't you? It's young-- Ah, now I remember! -I left it in the vestry; so stupid of me!" - -Paul stopped him as he was hurrying out of the room. - -"I must be off, thank you, sir. I am not going to catch the two-thirty -at all. I think I will walk on somewhere and catch something else, if -there happens to be anything. I am sure I wish Miss Katharine every -happiness. Good-morning." - -He went out by the window as he had come, and they watched him as he -walked across the lawn, the neat figure crowned by the conventional -felt hat. He had not shaken hands with Katharine nor looked at her -again. - -The Rector glanced after him and smoothed his hair thoughtfully. - -"Curious man that," he remarked with his simple smile. "He always -looks to me as though there were a tragedy in his life." - -"Oh, I don't think so," said Katharine, coldly. "It is only his -manner. He takes a joke tragically. Besides, he has never married -unhappily, or anything like that." - -"That may be," said Cyril Austen, with one of his occasional flashes -of intuition; "but it means a tragedy to some men if they haven't got -married at all, and I fancy that's one of them. Ah, well, his father -was one of our best--" - -Miss Esther's voice came shrilly down the passage, and the Rector -hastened out of the room without finishing his sentence. - -"The annoyances of life," thought Katharine cynically, "are much more -important than the tragedies." - -She picked up her letter once more and tore it open. Even then she did -not read it at once, but looked out of the window first and beyond the -garden, where a man's felt hat was moving irregularly along the top of -the hedge. She made an impatient gesture and turned her back to the -light, and unfolded Ted's letter at last. And this is what it -contained:-- - - "By the time you get this, I shall have cleared out. I may be - an infernally rotten ass, but I won't let the best girl in the - world marry me out of kindness, and that is all you were going - to do. I tried to think you were a little keen on me a few - weeks ago, but of course I was wrong. Don't mind me. I shall - come up smiling again after a bit. It was just like my - poorness to think I could ever marry any one so clever and - spry as yourself. Of course you will buck up and marry some - played-out literary chap, who will gas about books and things - all day and make you happy. Good old Kit, it has been a - mistake all along, hasn't it? When I come back, we will be - chums again, won't we? I am off to Melbourne in the morning - and shall travel about for a year, I think. You might write to - me--the jolly sort of letters you used to write. Monty knows - all my movements. - - Yours ever, - - Ted." - -The letter fell from her hand, and she turned and gazed blankly out of -the window. The felt hat was no longer to be seen at the top of the -hedge. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -High up in one of the houses on the shady side of the Rue Ruhmhorff, -Katharine sat on her balcony and thought. Her reflections were of the -desultory order begotten of early spring lethargy and early spring -sunshine, relating to street cries innumerable and to the mingled -scent of violets and asphalt in the air, to the children playing their -perpetual game of hop-scotch on the white pavements, and to the -artisan opposite who was mixing his salad by the open window with a -naïve disregard for the public gaze. Her pupils were all in the Bois -under the able supervision of the excellent Miss Smithson, and there -was temporary calm in the three _étages_ that formed Mrs. Downing's -Parisian establishment for the daughters of gentlemen. - -"Will he ever have done, I wonder?" speculated Katharine lazily. She -was taking quite a languid interest in the progress of the salad, and -smiled to herself when the man took off his blue blouse and attacked -it afresh in his shirt sleeves. His wife joined him after a while, -evidently, to judge from her emphatic gestures, with critical intent. -But the man received her volley of suggestions with an expressive -shrug of the shoulders, and they finally went off to their mid-day -meal. - -"What pitiable jargon we talk, all the world over, about the triumph -of mind over matter," murmured Katharine, yawning as she spoke. "And -all the while matter goes on triumphing over mind on every conceivable -occasion! It even gets into the street cries," she added with another -yawn, as a flower vender came along the street below and sent up his -minor refrain in unvarying repetition. "Des violettes pour embaumer la -chambre," he chanted, "du cresson pour la santé du corps!" - -It was more than a year since she had accepted Mrs. Downing's offer -and settled here in Paris; more than a year since Ted had gone abroad -and Paul Wilton had bidden her farewell. But she never looked back on -those days now, though not so much from design as from lack of -incentive; for her life had strayed into another channel, and her days -were full of the kind of occupation that leaves no room for the luxury -of reminiscence. It never even occurred to her to wonder whether she -was happy or not; she seemed to have completely lost her old trick of -wanting a reason for everything she thought or felt, and for the time -being she had become eminently practical. Even now, in spite of the -enervating effect of the first spring weather, her thoughts returned -to the business of the moment, and she wondered why the father of her -newest pupil, who had made an appointment with her for eleven o'clock, -was so late in coming. A ring at the electric bell seemed to answer -her thought, and the maid came in almost immediately with a -gentleman's card on a tray. - -"British caution," was Katharine's criticism, as Julie explained that -the English monsieur had not attempted to teach her his name. By the -merest chance she glanced at the card before her visitor came in, and -was spared the annoyance of betraying the surprise she must otherwise -have felt. As it was, she had time to recover from her astonishment, -even to remark how different the familiar name and address seemed to -her when, for the first time as now, she saw them transcribed on a -visiting card,--"Mr. Paul Wilton, Essex Court, Temple." - -"I am so glad to see you," she exclaimed, with a look that did not -contradict the welcome in her voice. And Julie, who had never seen -her mistress look so joyous before, went back to Marie in the kitchen -with a highly coloured account of the meeting she had just witnessed, -which explained to that frivolous but astute little person how it was -that Madame always looked so leniently on her flirtations with the -_charcutier_ round the corner. - -"I have never caught you idling before," said Paul, referring to the -attitude in which he had seen her through the open door before she had -turned round with that glad look in her eyes. - -"I don't suppose you have," she said. "It isn't so very long since I -learnt how to idle. Do you remember how bitterly you used to complain -because I never wanted to lounge? I often lounge now; and my greatest -joy is to think about nothing at all. Don't you know how restful it is -to think about nothing at all?" - -"You must have altered a good deal," he observed. - -"Do you think I have, then?" - -"Ask me that presently," he replied, with an answering smile. "I have -got to hear all the news first,--how keeping school agrees with you, -and everything there is to tell about yourself. So make haste and -begin, please." - -"Oh, there is nothing to tell about myself; at least, nothing more -than you can learn from the prospectus! Would you like to see one? You -can read it and learn what an important person I am, while I go and -leave a message for Miss Smithson." - -When she came back, he regarded her with a look of amused interest. - -"This is a very novel sensation," he remarked. - -"I am glad it amuses you," said Katharine; "but I never knew before -that the prospectus was funny." - -"Oh, no; it isn't that," he explained. "The humour of a prospectus is -the kind of grim joke that could only be expected to appeal to a -parent. What I meant was the fact of your appearing to me for the -first time in the character of hostess." - -"I wondered how it was that I did not feel so awed by your presence as -usual," she remarked. "Now I know it is because you, even you, are -sensible to the chastening atmosphere of the home of the young idea. -You had better come round the establishment at once, before the -favourable impression begins to wear off." - -"Oh, please!" he implored. "You will surely let me off? I haven't a -daughter or a niece, or any kind of feminine relation who could be of -the least commercial value to you. And I really don't feel equal to -facing crowds of unsophisticated girls in short frocks, with pocket -editions of their favourite poets in their hands. Girls of that age -always expect you to be so well informed, and I haven't run a -favourite poet for years." - -"When you first met me," she said emphatically, "_I_ was an -unsophisticated girl in a short frock, with a whole list of favourite -poets. And I distinctly remember one occasion on which I bored you for -half an hour with my views on Browning." - -"I am not here to deny it," said Paul. "It is only an additional -reason for my wishing to stay and talk to you, now that you have -ceased to have any views on any subject whatever. Besides, I exhausted -the subject of unsophistication in short frocks when I first had the -pleasure of meeting you, four years ago. And, interesting as I found -it then, I have no particular wish to renew it now." - -"All of which is an unpleasant reflection on the enormous age I seem -to have acquired in four years," she cried. "They must have been -singularly long years to you!" - -"With the exception of the last one," said Paul, "they were much the -same as any other years to me." - -"Now, that's odd," she remarked; "because last year has seemed to go -more quickly than any other year in my life. I wonder why it seemed so -long to you?" - -"It didn't," he replied promptly. "It was the other three that did -that, because I spent them in learning wisdom." - -"And the last one in forgetting it? How you must have wasted the other -three! Ah, there are the girls at last," she added, springing to her -feet. "That means déjeûner, and I am as hungry as two wolves. You will -stop of course?" - -"More developments," he murmured. "You used to scorn such mundane -matters as meals, in the days when the poets were food enough for you. -But please don't imagine for a moment that I am going to face that -Anglo-French crowd out there; I would almost as soon listen to your -opinion of Browning." - -"Do you mean to say," she complained, "that you expect me to minister -to your wants in here? What will Miss Smithson say, what will the dear -children say in their weekly letters home? You don't really mean it?" - -"On the contrary," he replied, placidly, "I am going to take you out -to lunch in the most improper restaurant this improper city can -produce. So go and put on that Parisian hat of yours, and be as quick -as you like about it. I am rather hungry, too." - -"You really seem to forget," she said, "that I am the respectable head -of a high-class seminary for--" - -"I only wish you would allow me to forget it," he interrupted. "It is -just because you have been occupying yourself for a whole year, and -with the most lamentable success, in growing elderly and respectable, -that I intend to give you this opportunity of being regenerated. May I -ask what you are waiting for, now?" - -"I am waiting for some of the conventional dogma you used to preach to -me in the days when _I_ wanted to be improper," she retorted. "It -would really save a great deal of trouble if our respective moral -codes could be induced to coincide sometimes, wouldn't it?" - -"It would save a great deal of trouble if you were to do as you are -told, without talking quite so much about it. It is now half-past--" - -"I tell you it is impossible," she protested. "You must have your -déjeûner here, with unsophistication twenty-five strong--and Miss -Smithson. What is the use of my having acquired a position of -importance if I deliberately throw it away again by behaving like an -improper schoolgirl?" - -"What is the use of a position at all," replied Paul, "if it doesn't -enable you to be improper when you choose? Don't you think we might -consider the argument at an end? I am quite willing to concede to Miss -Smithson, or to any other person in authority, that you have made all -the objections necessary to the foolish possessor of a conscience, if -you will only go and tell her that you do not intend to be in to -lunch." - -"I have told her," said Katharine inadvertently, and then laughed -frankly at her own admission. "I always spoil all my deceptions by -being truthful again too soon," she added plaintively. - -"Women always spoil their vices by incompletion," observed Paul. "They -have reduced virtue to an art, but there is a crudity about their vice -that always gives them away sooner or later. That is why they are so -easily found out; it is not because they are worse than men, but -because they are better. They repent too soon, and your sins always -find you out when you begin to repent." - -"That's perfectly true," said Katharine, half jestingly. "You would -never have discovered that I was a prig if I had not become partly -conscious of it first." - -"That," said Paul deliberately, "is a personal application of my -remarks which I should never have dreamed of making myself; but, since -you are good enough to allow it, I must say that the way you have -bungled the only vice you possess is quite singular. If you had been a -man no one would have detected your priggishness at all; at its worst -it would have been called personality. It is the same with everything. -When a woman writes an improper book she funks the crisis, and gets -called immoral for her pains; a man goes the whole hog, and we call it -art." - -"According to that," objected Katharine, "it is impossible to tell -whether a man is good or bad. In fact, the better he appears to be the -worse he must be in reality; because it only means that he is cleverer -at concealing it." - -"None of us are either good or bad," replied Paul. "It is all a -question of brains. Goodness is only badness done well, and morality -is mostly goodness done badly. I should like to know what I have said -to make you smile?" - -"It isn't what you have said," laughed Katharine; "it is the way you -said it. There is something so familiar in the way you are inventing a -whole new ethical system on the spur of the moment, and delivering it -just as weightily as if you had been evolving it for a lifetime. Do go -on; it has such an additional charm after one has had a holiday for -more than a year!" - -"When you have done being brilliant and realised the unimportance of -being conscientious, perhaps you will kindly go and get ready," said -Paul severely. And she laughed again at nothing in particular, and -raised no further objection to following what was distinctly her -inclination. - -When they had had déjeûner and were strolling through the Palais -Royal, he alluded for the first time to their parting at Ivingdon more -than a year ago. She gave a little start and reddened. - -"Oh, don't let us talk about that; I am so ashamed of myself whenever -I think of it," she said hastily. - -"I am sorry," he replied with composure, "because I particularly wish -to talk about it just now. You must remember that, until I met Ted in -town last week, I had no idea you were not married." - -She turned and stared at him suddenly. - -"I never thought of that," she said, slowly. - -"Of course you didn't. In fact, all your proceedings immediately -following that particular day in December seem to have been -characterised by the same lack of reflection. You might have known -that there was no one who could tell me of your erratic actions. And -how was I to guess that you would go flying off to Paris just when -everything was made easy for you to stop in England? I was naturally -forced to conclude, as I neither saw nor heard from you again, that -you had carried out your absurdly heroic purpose of marrying Ted. I -must say, Katharine, you have a wonderful faculty for complicating -matters." - -"Nothing of the sort," she said indignantly. "And your memory is no -better than mine, for you seem to forget that it was you who made our -parting final. You were so tragic that of course I thought you meant -it." - -"Before we criticise my own action in the matter," said Paul, "I -should rather like to know why you did come and bury yourself here, -without telling anybody?" - -"Oh, it is easy for you to smile and be sarcastic! I had to come, of -course; it was the only thing to be done. Nature had made me a prig, -and everything was forcing me to continue to be a prig, and all my -attempts at being anything else didn't come off. What chance is there -for any one with priggish tendencies in a world like ours? It simply -bristles with opportunities for behaving in a superior way, unless you -resolutely make up your mind to skim over the surface of it and never -to think deeply at all. What was I to do? Ted had gone abroad to -escape from my overbearing superiority, and you had left in disgust -because marrying for love wasn't good enough for me; and then I had -Mrs. Downing's letter, and she persisted in thinking that I was the -only person in the world who could manage the mothers of her -fashionable pupils. It seemed as though I were destined to remain a -superior person to the end of my days, and I wasn't going to fight -against my natural tendencies any longer. I determined that if I had -got to be a prig at all, I would at least make as good a prig as -possible. Now do you understand why I came?" - -"Before I attempt to do that, do you mind mentioning where you are -going to take me?" said Paul casually. She looked round quickly and -found that they had wandered down to the Seine and were close to the -landing-stage of the boats that went to St. Cloud; and an importunate -proprietor was representing to them in broken English the charms of a -trip down the river. - -"Oh, let us go!" she cried impulsively. "It would be so beautiful! -Miss Smithson will never respect me again, but I don't feel as though -I _could_ go back to all those girls just yet. Oh, don't be so musty! -It _won't_ be chilly, and you are not a bit too old, and you have just -got to come. Oh, don't I remember those moods of yours when everything -was too youthful for you! I never knew any one with such a plastic age -as yours." - -He smiled perfunctorily, and gave in; and they were soon journeying -down the Seine. Katharine was in a mood to appreciate everything, and -she leaned over the side of the boat and made a running commentary on -the beauty of the scene as they glided along between the banks. Paul -tried two or three seats in succession, and finally chose one with an -air of resignation and felt for his tobacco pouch. - -"There is a smell of oil," he said. "And the chestnuts at Bushey are -far finer." - -"Can't you lower your standard just for this one afternoon?" she -suggested mockingly. "It would be so pleasant if you were to allow -that Nature, for once, was almost good enough for you. I am so glad it -is always good enough for me; it gives one's critical faculty such a -rest." - -"Or proves the non-existence of one," added Paul. - -"It is surprising," she continued in the same tone, "how you always -manage to spoil the light side of life by treating it seriously. Do -you ever allow yourself a happy, irresponsible moment?" - -"Perhaps I haven't seen as much of the light side as you have," he -returned, quite unmoved. "And it is always easier to play our tragedy -than our comedy; the _mise en scène_ is better adapted to begin with. -That is why the mediocre writer generally ends his book badly; he gets -his effect much more easily than by ending it well." - -"What has made you so cynical, I wonder?" she asked lazily. - -"Principally, the happiness of the vulgar," returned Paul promptly. -"It is not our own unhappiness that makes us cynical, but the badly -done happiness of others. Quite an ordinary person may be able to -bear misfortune more or less nobly, but it takes a dash of genius to -be happy without being aggressive over it." - -"I can't imagine your taking the trouble to be aggressive over -anything," observed Katharine. "That is probably why you prefer to -remain sombre, whether the occasion demands it or not. It is very -prosaic to have to acknowledge that a man's most characteristic pose -is merely due to his laziness. On the whole, I am rather glad I am -quite an ordinary person; I would much sooner be happy, even if it -does make me vulgar." - -"Happiness is like wine," said Paul, without heeding her. "It -demoralises you at the time, and it leaves you flat afterwards. The -most difficult thing in life is to know how to take our happiness when -it comes." - -"It is more difficult," murmured Katharine, "to know how to do without -it when it doesn't come." - -They landed at St. Cloud, and walked up through the little village and -into the park where the ruins of the palace were. They had strayed -away from their fellow passengers by this time, and the complete -solitude of the place and its atmosphere of decay affected them both -in the same way, and they gradually dropped into silence. He was the -first to break the pause. - -"Don't you think it is time we brought this farce to an end?" he asked -with a carelessness of manner that was obviously assumed. - -"Who is being farcical?" she returned just as lightly. - -"You did that admirably, but it hasn't deceived me," said Paul -serenely. "You know as well as I do that it is futile to go on any -longer like this. We have tried it for a year, and I for one don't -think very much of it. Your experiences have doubtless been happier -than mine; but if you mean to tell me that they have taught you to -prefer solitude to companionship, then you are as thorough a prig as -you came over here to become. And that I don't believe for a moment, -for at your worst you were always inconsistent, and inconsistency is -the saving grace of the prig." - -"I appreciate the honour of your approval," replied Katharine with -exaggerated solemnity; "but, for all that, I still think that living -with unsophistication in short petticoats is likely to be less tiring, -on the whole, than living with some one for whom nothing in heaven or -earth has yet been brought to perfection." - -She ended with a peal of laughter. Paul strolled on at the same -measured pace as before. - -"Besides," she added, "I thought we had both done with the matter a -year ago. What is the use of dragging it up again?" - -"I thought," added Paul, "that we had also done with taking ourselves -seriously, a year ago. But you seem to wish the process to be renewed. -Very well, then; let us begin at the beginning. The initial -difficulty, if I remember rightly, was the fact that we were very much -in love with each other." - -"I know _I_ wasn't," said Katharine hotly. "I never hated any one so -much in my life, and--" - -"Which gets over the initial difficulty, does it not? Secondly then, -you determined in the most unselfish manner possible that a wife would -inevitably cripple what you were kind enough to call my career. I need -hardly say how touched I felt by your charming consideration, but I -should like to point out--" - -"It is perfectly detestable of you to have come all this way on -purpose to laugh at me," cried Katharine. - -"I should like to point out," repeated Paul, "that I feel quite -capable of pursuing my career without any suggestions from my wife at -all, and that, engrossing as her presence would undoubtedly prove--" - -"It seems to me," interrupted Katharine, "that you don't want a wife -at all; you only want an audience." - -"I don't think," said Paul, smiling indulgently, "that we need quarrel -about terms, need we? Well, as I was saying, my career would probably -continue to take care of itself, even if there were two of us to be -asked out to dinner, instead of one. And that disposes of the second -obstacle, doesn't it? The third and last--" - -"Last? There are millions of others!" - -"The third and last," resumed Paul, "was, I think, the trifling fact -that I had once presumed to call you a prig, in consequence of which -you chose to pretend you were afraid of me. Wasn't that so?" - -"Afraid of you? What a ridiculous idea!" she exclaimed. "Why, I was -never afraid of you in my life!" - -"Which disposes of the third and last difficulty," said Paul promptly. - -Katharine stamped her foot and walked on in front of him. - -"You don't seem to think," she said, "that I might not _want_ to marry -you." - -"Oh, no," said Paul; "I don't." - -She said no more, but continued to walk a little way in front of him -so that he could not see her face. She only spoke once again on their -way down to the boat. - -"How was Ted looking when you saw him?" she asked abruptly. "Perhaps -you didn't notice, though?" - -"Oh, yes," said Paul, blandly. "I've never seen him looking better; he -seemed to have had a splendid time out there. He asked after you, by -the way, and seemed rather surprised that I hadn't heard from you." - -She made no comment, and they reached the boat in silence. - -"You will come back to tea with me?" she said, as they stood waiting -for it to start. - -"With you,--or with unsophistication?" - -"Oh, with me of course! Don't you think you have been funny enough for -one afternoon?" - -"Our best jokes are always our unconscious ones," murmured Paul. -"Seriously, though, I think I won't bother you any more. I shall only -be in the way if I stay any longer." - -"Now what have I done," she demanded indignantly, "to make you think -you are in the way?" - -"Oh, of course--nothing. So foolish of me!" said Paul humbly. "I shall -be delighted to return with you; there are still so many things we -want to say to each other, are there not?" - -However, they did not say them on the way home, for Katharine soon -became thoughtful again, and he made no further attempt to draw her -out but remained studiously at the other end of the boat until they -landed; and after that, the noise of the cab in which they drove -across Paris was sufficient excuse for refraining from anything like -conversation. At the top of the stairs, as they stayed for a moment -outside her _appartement_ to recover their breath, she suddenly turned -to him with one of her unaccountable smiles. - -"Well?" he said. - -"You know I didn't mean to be cross, don't you?" she asked him in a -hurried undertone. - -"You absurd little silly!" was all he said. - -They sat for a long time over tea, and neither of them felt inclined -to talk. But the silence was not embarrassing. And the early spring -day drew to a close and the room grew dark with shadows; and still -they sat there, and it did not occur to either of them to make -conversation. At last, Katharine stirred in her seat at the end of the -sofa and looked towards the dim outline of his figure against the -window, and finished her reflections out loud. - -"After all," she said thoughtfully, "the great thing is to be sane. -Nothing else matters much if one can only be sane about things. There -are heaps of reasons why you and I should not marry, if we were to -begin hunting them up; but why bother about it? You know and I know -that we have simply got to try the experiment, and chance the rest. -One must risk something. And it can't be much worse than going on -alone like this." - -"No," said Paul, "it can't be worse than that." - -He came and sat on the sofa, too, and there was silence once more. He -put out his hand to find hers, and she gave it him and laughed softly. - -"I have an idea," she said irrelevantly. "We must marry Ted to -Marion." - -"We?" said Paul, smiling. And she laughed again. - -"Isn't it ridiculous," she said, "after all our views about marriage -and so on,--to end in behaving just like any one else who never had -any views at all?" - -"Yes," agreed Paul. "We haven't even stuck to our priggishness." - -"_We?_" exclaimed Katharine. - -But there is always a limit to a man's confessions, and Paul's was -never finished. - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR. - - -_AT THE RELTON ARMS._ - -Miss Evelyn Sharp is to be congratulated on having, through the mouth -of one of her characters, said one of the wisest words yet spoken on -what is rather absurdly called "The Marriage Question" (page 132). It -is an interesting and well-written story, with some smart -characterisation and quite a sufficiency of humour.--_Daily -Chronicle._ - -A delightful story. The most genuine piece of humour in a book that is -nowhere devoid of it, is that scene in the inn parlour where Digby -finds himself engaged to two young women within five minutes; while -the two brief colloquies of the landlady and her cronies make one -suspect that the author could produce an admirable study of village -humour.--_Athenæum._ - -A distinctly clever book, of a fresh conventionality.--_Academy._ - - -_WYMPS: FAIRY TALES._ - -_With 8 coloured Illustrations and decorated cover by Mabel Dearmer._ - -Of the stories it is impossible to speak too highly; they are true -fairy literature, and the most exigent taste will be satisfied with -them.--_Truth (London)._ - -[Illustration] - -A FLY-LEAF POEM. - -(_To a little girl with a story-book,--"Wymps," by_ EVELYN SHARP). - - Here, in this book, the wise may find - A world exactly to their mind. - From fairy kings to talking fish, - There's everything such people - wish. - - Sweeter little maid than you - Never read a story through. - Through a sweeter little book - Little maid shall never look. - - MR. WILLIAM WATSON - in _The Academy_. - -The simple brilliancy of the cover alone reveals something of the -hidden delights of these charming new stories.--_Punch._ - -Quite the most gorgeously coloured book of the season. In a red, -green, and yellow cover that puts to the fade even a French poster, -and with most marvellous pictures, excelling even the cover, the -volume must take a literally blazing place on a child's book-shelf. -"Wymps" has other attractions,--six, _original_ fairy stories. Now, -originality is a rare thing in fairy stories, so that altogether we -find the book unique.--_Literary World (Boston)._ - - - - -JOHN LANE - - THE - BODLEY - HEAD - VIGO ST - W. - _Telegrams_ - "BODLEIAN - LONDON" - -CATALOGUE _of_ PUBLICATIONS _in_ BELLES LETTRES - - - LIST OF BOOKS - IN - BELLES LETTRES - - Published by John Lane - The Bodley Head - VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. - -=Adams (Francis).= - - ESSAYS IN MODERNITY. Crown 8vo. - 5s. net. [_Shortly._ - - A CHILD OF THE AGE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=A. E.= - - HOMEWARD: SONGS BY THE WAY. - Sq. 16mo, wrappers, 1s. 6d. net. [_Second Edition._ - - THE EARTH BREATH, AND OTHER POEMS. Sq. 16mo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Aldrich (T. B.).= - - LATER LYRICS. Sm. fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. - -=Allen (Grant).= - - THE LOWER SLOPES: A Volume of Verse. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - THE WOMAN WHO DID. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Twenty-third Edition._ - - THE BRITISH BARBARIANS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - -=Atherton (Gertrude).= - - PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES. Crown 8vo. 6s. - [_Third Edition._ - -=Bailey (John C.).= - - ENGLISH ELEGIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [_In preparation._ - -=Balfour (Marie Clothilde).= - - MARIS STELLA. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Beeching (Rev. H. C.).= - - IN A GARDEN: Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - ST. AUGUSTINE AT OSTIA. Crown 8vo, wrappers. 1s. net. - -=Beerbohm (Max).= - - THE WORKS OF MAX BEERBOHM. With a Bibliography by JOHN LANE. - Sq. 16mo. 4s. 6d. Net. - - THE HAPPY HYPOCRITE. Sq. 16mo. 1s. net. - -=Bennett (E. A.).= - - A MAN FROM THE NORTH. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - -=Benson (Arthur Christopher).= - - LYRICS. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 5s. net. - - LORD VYET AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Bridges (Robert).= - - SUPPRESSED CHAPTERS AND OTHER BOOKISHNESS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - net. [_Second Edition._ - -=Brotherton (Mary).= - - ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Brown (Vincent).= - - MY BROTHER. Sq. 16mo. 2s. net. ORDEAL BY COMPASSION. Crown - 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - - TWO IN CAPTIVITY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - -=Buchan (John).= - - SCHOLAR GIPSIES. With 7 full-page Etchings by D. Y. CAMERON. - Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - MUSA PISCATRIX. With 6 Etchings by E. PHILIP PIMLOTT. Crown - 8vo. 5s. net. - - GREY WEATHER. Crown 8vo. 5s. [_In preparation._ - - JOHN BURNET OF BARNS. A Romance. Crown 8vo. 6s. - [_In preparation._ - -=Campbell (Gerald).= - - THE JONESES AND THE ASTERISKS. A Story in Monologue. 6 - Illustrations by F. H. TOWNSEND. Fcap. 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - -=Case (Robert H.).= - - ENGLISH EPITHALAMIES. Crown 8vo, 5s. net. - -=Castle (Mrs. Egerton).= - - MY LITTLE LADY ANNE. Sq. 16mo, 2s. net. - -=Chapman (Elizabeth Rachel).= - - MARRIAGE QUESTIONS IN MODERN FICTION. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. - -=Charles (Joseph F.).= - - THE DUKE OF LINDEN. Crown 8vo, 5s. [_In preparation._ - -=Cobb (Thomas).= - - CARPET COURTSHIP. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - - MR. PASSINGHAM. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - -=Crane (Walter).= - - TOY BOOKS. Re-issue of. 2s. - - This LITTLE PIG'S PICTURE BOOK, containing: - - I. THIS LITTLE PIG. - II. THE FAIRY SHIP. - III. KING LUCKIEBOY'S PARTY. - - MOTHER HUBBARD'S PICTURE-BOOK, containing: - - IV. MOTHER HUBBARD. - V. THE THREE BEARS. - VI. THE ABSURD A. B. C. - - CINDERELLA'S PICTURE BOOK, containing: - - VII. CINDERELLA. - VIII. PUSS IN BOOTS. - IX. VALENTINE AND ORSON. - - Each Picture-Book containing three Toy Books, complete with - end papers and covers, together with collective titles, - end-papers, decorative cloth cover, and newly written Preface - by WALTER CRANE, 4s. 6d. The Nine Parts as above may be had - separately at 1s. each. - -=Crackanthorpe (Hubert).= - - VIGNETTES. A Miniature Journal of Whim and Sentiment. Fcap. - 8vo, boards. 2s. 6d. net. - -=Craig (R. Manifold).= - - THE SACRIFICE OF FOOLS. Crown 8vo, 6s. - -=Crosse (Victoria).= - - THE WOMAN WHO DIDN'T. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. - [_Third Edition._ - -=Custance (Olive).= - - OPALS: Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Croskey (Julian).= - - MAX. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Dalmon (C. W.).= - - SONG FAVOURS. Sq. 16mo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=D'Arcy (Ella).= - - MONOCHROMES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - POOR HUMAN NATURE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - -=Dawe (W. Carlton).= - - YELLOW AND WHITE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - KAKEMONOS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Dawson (A. J.).= - - MERE SENTIMENT. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - MIDDLE GREYNESS. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Davidson (John).= - - PLAYS: An Unhistorical Pastoral; A Romantic Farce; Bruce, a - Chronicle Play; Smith, a Tragic Farce; Scaramouch in Naxos, a - Pantomime. Small 4to. 7s. 6d. net. - - FLEET STREET ECLOGUES. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 4s. 6d. net. - [_Third Edition._ - - FLEET STREET ECLOGUES. 2nd Series. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 4s. 6d. - net. [_Second Edition._ - - A RANDOM ITINERARY. Fcap. 8vo, 5s. net. - - BALLADS AND SONGS. Fcap. 8vo, 5s. net. [_Fourth Edition._ - - NEW BALLADS. Fcap. 8vo, 4s. 6d. net. [_Second Edition._ - -=De Lyrienne (Richard).= - - THE QUEST OF THE GILT-EDGED GIRL. Sq. 16mo. 1s. net. - -=De Tabley (Lord).= - - POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. By JOHN LEICESTER WARREN (Lord de - Tabley). Five Illustrations and Cover by C. S. RICKETTS. Crown - 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. [_Third Edition._ - - POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. Second Series. Crown 8vo. 5s. - net. - -=Devereux (Roy).= THE ASCENT OF WOMAN. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Dick (Chas. Hill).= ENGLISH SATIRES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - [_In preparation._ - -=Dix (Gertrude).= - - THE GIRL FROM THE FARM. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - -=Dostoievsky (F.).= - - POOR FOLK. Translated from the Russian by LENA MILMAN. With a - Preface by GEORGE MOORE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Dowie (Menie Muriel).= - - SOME WHIMS OF FATE. Post 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. - -=Duer (Caroline, and Alice).= - - POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Egerton (George)= - - KEYNOTES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. [_Eighth Edition._ - - DISCORDS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. [_Fifth Edition._ - - SYMPHONIES. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_Second Edition._ - - FANTASIAS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - - THE HAZARD OF THE HILL. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Eglinton (John).= - - TWO ESSAYS ON THE REMNANT. Post 8vo, wrappers, 1s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - -=Farr (Florence).= - - THE DANCING FAUN. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Fea (Allan).= - - THE FLIGHT OF THE KING: A full, true, and particular account - of the escape of His Most Sacred Majesty King Charles II. - after the Battle of Worcester, with Sixteen Portraits in - Photogravure and over 100 other Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 21s. - net. - -=Field (Eugene).= - - THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC. Post 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - LULLABY LAND: Poems for Children. Edited, with Introduction, - by KENNETH GRAHAME. With 200 Illustrations by CHAS. ROBINSON. - Uncut or gilt edges. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Fifth (George).= - - THE MARTYR'S BIBLE. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Fleming (George).= - - FOR PLAIN WOMEN ONLY. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Flowerdew (Herbert).= - - A CELIBATE'S WIFE. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Fletcher (J. S.).= - - THE WONDERFUL WAPENTAKE. By "A SON OF THE SOIL." With 18 - Full-page Illustrations by J. A. SYMINGTON. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. - net. - - LIFE IN ARCADIA. With 20 Illustrations by PATTEN WILSON. Crown - 8vo. 5s. net. - - GOD'S FAILURES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - BALLADS OF REVOLT. Sq. 32mo. 2s. 6d. net. - - THE MAKING OF MATTHIAS. With 40 Illustrations and Decorations - by LUCY KEMP-WELCH. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Ford, (James L.).= - - THE LITERARY SHOP, AND OTHER TALES. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Frederic (Harold).= - - MARCH HARES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. [_Third Edition._ - - MRS. ALBERT GRUNDY: OBSERVATIONS IN PHILISTIA. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. - 6d. net. [_Second Edition._ - -=Fuller (H. B.).= - - THE PUPPET BOOTH. Twelve Plays. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Gale (Norman).= - - ORCHARD SONGS. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Garnett (Richard).= - - POEMS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - DANTE, PETRARCH, CAMOENS, cxxiv Sonnets, rendered in English. - Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Geary (Sir Nevill).= - - A LAWYER'S WIFE. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_Second Edition._ - -=Gibson (Charles Dana).= - - DRAWINGS: Eighty-Five Large Cartoons. Oblong Folio. 20s. - - PICTURES OF PEOPLE. Eighty-Five Large Cartoons. Oblong folio. - 20s. - - LONDON: AS SEEN BY C. D. GIBSON. Text and Illustrations. Large - folio, 12 × 18 inches. 20s. [_In preparation._ - - THE PEOPLE OF DICKENS. Six Large Photogravures. Proof - Impressions from Plates, in a Portfolio. 20s. - -=Gilliat-Smith (E.).= - - THE HYMNS OF PRUDENTIUS. In the Rhythm of the Original. Pott - 4to. 5s. net. - -=Gleig (Charles).= - - WHEN ALL MEN STARVE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - - THE EDGE OF HONESTY. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Gosse (Edmund).= - - THE LETTERS OF THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES. Now first edited. Pott - 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Grahame (Kenneth).= - - PAGAN PAPERS. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. - [_Out of Print at present._ - - THE GOLDEN AGE. Crown 8vo 3s. 6d. net. [_Seventh Edition._ - - _See_ EUGENE FIELD'S LULLABY LAND. - -=Greene (G. A.).= - - ITALIAN LYRISTS OF TO-DAY. Translations in the original metres - from about thirty-five living Italian poets, with - bibliographical and biographical notes. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Greenwood (Frederick).= - - IMAGINATION IN DREAMS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Grimshaw (Beatrice Ethel).= - - BROKEN AWAY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Hake (T. Gordon).= - - A SELECTION FROM HIS POEMS. Edited by Mrs. MEYNELL. With a - Portrait after D. G. ROSSETTI. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Hansson (Laura M.).= - - MODERN WOMEN. An English rendering of "DAS BUCH DER FRAUEN" by - HERMIONE RAMSDEN. Subjects: Sonia Kovalevsky, George Egerton, - Eleanora Duse, Amalie Skram, Marie Bashkirtseff, A. Ch. Edgren - Leffler. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Hansson (Ola).= - - YOUNG OFEG'S DITTIES. A Translation from the Swedish. By - GEORGE EGERTON. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Harland (Henry).= - - GREY ROSES. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. - -=Hay (Colonel John).= - - POEMS INCLUDING "THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS" (Author's Edition), - with Portrait of the Author. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - CASTILIAN DAYS. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - SPEECH AT THE UNVEILING OF THE BUST OF SIR WALTER SCOTT IN - WESTMINSTER ABBEY. With a Drawing of the Bust. Sq. 16mo. 1s. - net. - -=Hayes (Alfred).= - - THE VALE OF ARDEN AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Hazlitt (William).= - - LIBER AMORIS; OR, THE NEW PYGMALION. Edited, with an - Introduction, by RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. To which is added an - exact transcript of the original MS., Mrs. Hazlitt's Diary in - Scotland, and letters never before published. Portrait after - BEWICK, and fac-simile letters. 400 Copies only. 4to, 364 pp., - buckram. 21s. net. - -=Heinemann (William).= - - THE FIRST STEP; A Dramatic Moment. Small 4to. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Henniker (Florence).= - - IN SCARLET AND GREY. (With THE SPECTRE OF THE REAL by FLORENCE - HENNIKER and THOMAS HARDY.) Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - -=Hickson (Mrs. Murray).= - - SHADOWS OF LIFE. Post 8vo. 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - -=Hopper (Nora).= - - BALLADS IN PROSE. Sm. 4to. 6s. - - UNDER QUICKEN BOUGHS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Housman (Clemence).= - - THE WERE WOLF. With 6 Illustrations by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Sq. - 16mo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Housman (Laurence).= - - GREEN ARRAS: Poems. With 6 Illustrations, Title-page, Cover - Design, and End Papers by the Author. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - GODS AND THEIR MAKERS. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. - -=Irving (Laurence).= - - GODEFROI AND YOLANDE: A Play. Sm. 4to. 3s. 6d. net. - [_In preparation._ - -=Jalland (G. H.).= - - THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. POPPLE. Coloured Plates. Oblong - 4to, 14 x 10 inches. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=James (W. P.).= - - ROMANTIC PROFESSIONS: A Volume of Essays. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Johnson (Lionel).= - - THE ART OF THOMAS HARDY: Six Essays. With Etched Portrait by - WM. STRANG, and Bibliography by JOHN LANE. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. - net. [_Second Edition._ - -=Johnson (Pauline).= - - WHITE WAMPUM: Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Johnstone (C. E.).= - - BALLADS OF BOY AND BEAK. Sq. 32mo. 2s. net. - -=Kemble (E. W.).= - - KEMBLE'S COONS. 30 Drawings of Coloured Children and Southern - Scenes. Oblong 4to. 6s. - -=King (K. Douglas).= - - THE CHILD WHO WILL NEVER GROW OLD. Crown 8vo. 5s. - -=King (Maud Egerton).= - - ROUND ABOUT A BRIGHTON COACH OFFICE. With over 30 - Illustrations by LUCY KEMP-WELCH. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Lander (Harry).= - - WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=The Lark.= - - BOOK THE FIRST. Containing Nos. 1 to 12. With numerous - Illustrations by GELETT BURGESS and Others. Small 4to. 6s. - BOOK THE SECOND. Containing Nos. 13 to 24. With numerous - Illustrations by GELETT BURGESS and Others. Small 4to. 6s. - [_All published._ - -=Leather (R. K.).= - - VERSES. 250 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. - -=Lefroy (Edward Cracroft.).= - - POEMS. With a Memoir by W. A. GILL, and a reprint of Mr. J. A. - SYMONDS' Critical Essay on "Echoes from Theocritus." Cr. 8vo. - Photogravure Portrait. 5s. net. - -=Le Gallienne (Richard).= - - PROSE FANCIES. With Portrait of the Author by WILSON STEER. - Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [_Fourth Edition._ - - THE BOOK BILLS OF NARCISSUS. An Account rendered by RICHARD LE - GALLIENNE. With a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Third Edition._ - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, AN ELEGY, AND OTHER POEMS, MAINLY - PERSONAL. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - ENGLISH POEMS. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - [_Fourth Edition, revised._ - - GEORGE MEREDITH: Some Characteristics. With a Bibliography - (much enlarged) by JOHN LANE, portrait, &c. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. - net. [_Fourth Edition._ - - THE RELIGION OF A LITERARY MAN. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Fifth Thousand._ - - RETROSPECTIVE REVIEWS, A LITERARY LOG, 1891-1895. 2 vols. - Crown 8vo. 9s. net. - - PROSE FANCIES. (Second Series). Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN GIRL. Crown 8vo. 6s. - [_Fifth Edition._ - - LOVE IN LONDON: Poems. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - [_In preparation._ - - _See also_ HAZLITT, WALTON and COTTON. - -=Legge (A. E. J.).= - - THREADBARE SOULS. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Linden (Annie).= - - GOLD. A Dutch Indian story. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Lipsett (Caldwell).= - - WHERE THE ATLANTIC MEETS THE LAND. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Locke (W. J.).= - - DERELICTS. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Lowry (H. D.).= - - MAKE BELIEVE. Illustrated by CHARLES ROBINSON. Crown 8vo, gilt - edges or uncut. 6s. - - WOMEN'S TRAGEDIES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - THE HAPPY EXILE. With 6 Etchings by E. PHILIP PIMLOTT. (Arcady - Library, Vol. V.) Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Lucas (Winifred).= - - UNITS: Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Lynch (Hannah).= - - THE GREAT GALEOTO AND FOLLY OR SAINTLINESS. Two Plays, from - the Spanish of JOSÉ ECHEGARAY, with an Introduction. Small - 4to. 5s. 6d. net. - -=McChesney (Dora Greenwell).= - - BEATRIX INFELIX. A Summer Tragedy in Rome. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - [_In preparation._ - -=Macgregor (Barrington).= - - KING LONGBEARD. With nearly 100 Illustrations by CHARLES - ROBINSON. Small 4to. 6s. - -=Machen (Arthur).= - - THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST LIGHT. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - net. [_Second Edition._ - - THE THREE IMPOSTORS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Macleod (Fiona).= - - THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Makower (Stanley V.).= - - THE MIRROR OF MUSIC. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - CECILIA. Crown 8vo. 5s. - -=Mangan (James Clarence).= - - SELECTED POEMS. With a Biographical and Critical Preface by - LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Mathew (Frank).= - - THE WOOD OF THE BRAMBLES. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - A CHILD IN THE TEMPLE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - - THE SPANISH WINE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. [_In preparation._ - - AT THE RISING OF THE MOON. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - -=Marzials (Theo.).= - - THE GALLERY OF PIGEONS AND OTHER POEMS. Post 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Meredith (George).= - - THE FIRST PUBLISHED PORTRAIT OF THIS AUTHOR, engraved on the - wood by W. BISCOMBE GARDNER, after the painting by G. F. - WATTS. Proof copies on Japanese vellum, signed by painter and - engraver. £1 1s. net. - -=Meynell (Mrs.).= - - POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. [_Fifth Edition._ - - THE RHYTHM OF LIFE AND OTHER ESSAYS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Fifth Edition._ - -=Meynell (Mrs.)=--_continued_. - - THE COLOUR OF LIFE AND OTHER ESSAYS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Fifth Edition._ - - THE CHILDREN. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. [_Second Edition._ - -=Miller (Joaquin).= - - THE BUILDING OF THE CITY BEAUTIFUL. Fcap. 8vo. With a - Decorated Cover. 5s. net. - -=Milman (Helen).= - - IN THE GARDEN OF PEACE. With 24 Illustrations by EDMUND H. - NEW. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Money-Coutts (F. B.).= - - POEMS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Monkhouse (Allan).= - - BOOKS AND PLAYS: A Volume of Essays on Meredith, Borrow, - Ibsen, and others. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - A DELIVERANCE. Crown 8vo. 5s. [_In preparation._ - -=Nesbit (E.).= - - A POMANDER OF VERSE. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - - IN HOMESPUN. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Nettleship (J. T.).= - - ROBERT BROWNING: Essays and Thoughts. Portrait. Crown 8vo. 5s. - 6d. net. [_Third Edition._ - -=Nicholson (Claud).= - - UGLY IDOL. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Noble (Jas. Ashcroft).= - - THE SONNET IN ENGLAND AND OTHER ESSAYS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Oppenheim (M.).= - - A HISTORY OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF THE ROYAL NAVY, and of - Merchant Shipping in relation to the Navy from MDIX to MDCLX, - with an introduction treating of the earlier period. With - Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 15s. net. - -=Orred (Meta).= - - GLAMOUR. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=O'Shaughnessy (Arthur).= - - HIS LIFE AND HIS WORK. With Selections from his Poems. By - LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. Portrait and Cover Design. Fcap. 8vo. - 5s. net. - -=Oxford Characters.= - - A series of lithographed portraits by WILL ROTHENSTEIN, with - text by F. YORK POWELL and others. 200 copies only, folio. £3 - 3s. net. - -=Pennell (Elizabeth Robins).= - - THE FEASTS OF AUTOLYCUS: THE DIARY OF A GREEDY WOMAN. Fcap. - 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Peters (Wm. Theodore).= - - POSIES OUT OF RINGS. Sq. 16mo. 2s. 6d. net. - -=Phillips (Stephen).= - - THE WOMAN WITH A DEAD SOUL, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. 4s. - 6d. net. - -=Plarr (Victor).= - - IN THE DORIAN MOOD: Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Posters in Miniature=: over 250 reproductions of French, - English and American Posters with Introduction by EDWARD - PENFIELD. Large crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Price (A. T. G.).= - - SIMPLICITY. Sq. 16mo. 2s. net. - -=Radford (Dollie).= - - SONGS AND OTHER VERSES. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Risley (R. V.).= - - THE SENTIMENTAL VIKINGS. Post 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. - -=Rhys (Ernest).= - - A LONDON ROSE AND OTHER RHYMES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Robertson (John M.).= - - NEW ESSAYS TOWARDS A CRITICAL METHOD. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. - -=St. Cyres (Lord).= - - THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF ST. FRANCIS: a new rendering into - English of the Fioretti di San Francesco. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - [_In preparation._ - -=Seaman (Owen).= - - THE BATTLE OF THE BAYS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Third Edition._ - - HORACE AT CAMBRIDGE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Sedgwick (Jane Minot).= - - SONGS FROM THE GREEK. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Setoun (Gabriel).= - - THE CHILD WORLD: Poems. With over 200 Illustrations by CHARLES - ROBINSON. Crown 8vo, gilt edges or uncut. 6s. - -=Sharp (Evelyn).= - - WYMPS: Fairy Tales. With Coloured Illustrations by Mrs. PERCY - DEARMER. Small 4to, decorated cover. 6s. - - AT THE RELTON ARMS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - THE MAKING OF A PRIG. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - ALL THE WAY TO FAIRY LAND. With Coloured Illustrations by Mrs. - PERCY DEARMER. Small 4to, decorated cover. 6s. - -=Shiel (M. P.).= - - PRINCE ZALESKI. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - SHAPES IN THE FIRE. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Shore (Louisa).= - - POEMS. With an appreciation by FREDERIC HARRISON and a - Portrait. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Shorter (Mrs. Clement) (Dora Sigerson).= - - THE FAIRY CHANGELING, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Smith (John).= - - PLATONIC AFFECTIONS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Stacpoole (H. de Vere).= - - PIERROT. Sq, 16mo. 2s. net. - - DEATH, THE KNIGHT, AND THE LADY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. - -=Stevenson (Robert Louis).= - - PRINCE OTTO. A Rendering in French by EGERTON CASTLE. Crown - 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. - - A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. With over 150 Illustrations by - CHARLES ROBINSON. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [_Third Edition._ - -=Stimson (F. J.).= - - KING NOANETT. A Romance of Devonshire Settlers in New England. - With 12 Illustrations by HENRY SANDHAM. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Stoddart (Thos. Tod).= - - THE DEATH WAKE. With an Introduction by ANDREW LANG. Fcap. - 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Street (G. S.).= - - EPISODES. Post 8vo. 3s. net. - - MINIATURES AND MOODS. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. - - QUALES EGO: A FEW REMARKS, IN PARTICULAR AND AT LARGE. Fcap. - 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BOY. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - THE WISE AND THE WAYWARD. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Sudermann (H.).= - - THE SINS OF THE FATHERS. A Translation of DER KATZENSTEG. By - BEATRICE MARSHALL. Crown 8vo. 6s. [_In preparation._ - -=Swettenham (Sir F. A.).= - - MALAY SKETCHES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [_Second Edition._ - -=Syrett (Netta).= - - NOBODY'S FAULT. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. ne [_Second Edition._ - - THE TREE OF LIFE. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -=Tabb (John B.).= - - POEMS. Sq. 32mo. 4s. 6d. net. - - LYRICS. Sq. 32mo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Taylor (Una).= - - NETS FOR THE WIND. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Tennyson (Frederick).= - - POEMS OF THE DAY AND YEAR. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Thimm (Carl A.).= - - A COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF FENCING AND DUELLING, AS PRACTISED - BY ALL EUROPEAN NATIONS FROM THE MIDDLE AGES TO THE PRESENT - DAY. With a Classified Index, arranged Chronologically - according to Languages. Illustrated with numerous Portraits of - Ancient and Modern Masters of the Art. Title-pages and - Frontispieces of some of the earliest works. Portrait of the - Author by WILSON STEER. 4to. 21s. net. - -=Thompson (Francis).= - - POEMS. With Frontispiece by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Pott 4to. 5s. - net. [_Fourth Edition._ - - SISTER-SONGS: An Offering to Two Sisters. With Frontispiece by - LAURENCE HOUSMAN. Pott 4to. 5s. net. - -=Thoreau (Henry David).= - - POEMS OF NATURE. Selected and edited by HENRY S. SALT and - FRANK B. SANBORN. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Traill (H. D.).= - - THE BARBAROUS BRITISHERS: A Tip-top Novel. Crown 8vo, wrapper. - 1s. net. - - FROM CAIRO TO THE SOUDAN FRONTIER. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Tynan Hinkson (Katharine).= - - CUCKOO SONGS. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. - - MIRACLE PLAYS. OUR LORD'S COMING AND CHILDHOOD. With 6 - Illustrations by PATTEN WILSON. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - -=Wells (H. G.).= - - SELECT CONVERSATIONS WITH AN UNCLE, NOW EXTINCT. Fcap. 8vo. - 3s. 6d. net. - -=Walton and Cotton.= - - THE COMPLEAT ANGLER. Edited by RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. With over - 250 Illustrations by EDMUND H. NEW. Fcap. 4to, decorated - cover. 15s. net. - - Also to be had in thirteen 1s. parts. - -=Warden (Gertrude).= - - THE SENTIMENTAL SEX. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Watson (H. B. Marriott).= - - AT THE FIRST CORNER AND OTHER STORIES. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - - GALLOPING DICK. Crown 8vo. 6s. - - THE HEART OF MIRANDA. Crown 8vo. 5s. - -=Watson (Rosamund Marriott).= - - VESPERTILIA AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - - A SUMMER NIGHT AND OTHER POEMS. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. - net. - -=Watson (William).= - - THE FATHER OF THE FOREST AND OTHER POEMS. With New - Photogravure Portrait of the Author. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Fifth Edition._ - - ODES AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - [_Fourth Edition._ - - THE ELOPING ANGELS: A Caprice. Square 16mo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - - EXCURSIONS IN CRITICISM: being some Prose Recreations of a - Rhymer. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [_Second Edition._ - - THE PRINCE'S QUEST AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. - [_Third Edition._ - - THE PURPLE EAST: A Series of Sonnets on England's Desertion of - Armenia. With a Frontispiece after G. F. WATTS, R.A. Fcap. - 8vo, wrappers. 1s. net. [_Third Edition._ - - THE YEAR OF SHAME. With an Introduction by the BISHOP OF - HEREFORD. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. [_Second Edition._ - - POEMS. A New Volume. Ready for Christmas. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. - net. - - A Large Paper Edition at 12s. 6d. net. - -=Watt (Francis).= - - THE LAW'S LUMBER ROOM. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - [_Second Edition._ - - FATHER ANTIC, THE LAW. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - [_In preparation._ - -=Watts-Dunton (Theodore).= - - JUBILEE GREETING AT SPITHEAD TO THE MEN OF GREATER BRITAIN. - Crown 8vo. 1s. net. - - THE COMING OF LOVE AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. - -=Wenzell (A. B.).= - - IN VANITY FAIR. 70 Drawings. Oblong folio. 20s. - -=Wharton (H. T.).= - - SAPPHO. Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings, and a Literal - Translation by HENRY THORNTON WHARTON. With 3 Illustrations in - Photogravure, and a Cover designed by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. With a - Memoir of Mr. Wharton. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. net. - [_Fourth Edition._ - -=Wotton (Mabel E.).= - - DAY BOOKS. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. - -=Xenopoulos (Gregory).= - - THE STEPMOTHER: A TALE OF MODERN ATHENS. Translated by MRS. - EDMONDS. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. - - - - -THE YELLOW BOOK - -=An Illustrated Quarterly.= - -_Pott 4to. 5s. net._ - - I. April 1894, 272 pp., 15 Illustrations. [_Out of print._ - - II. July 1894, 364 pp., 23 Illustrations. - - III. October 1894, 280 pp., 15 Illustrations. - - IV. January 1895, 285 pp., 16 Illustrations. - - V. April 1895, 317 pp., 14 Illustrations. - - VI. July 1895, 335 pp., 16 Illustrations. - - VII. October 1895, 320 pp., 20 Illustrations. - - VIII. January 1896, 406 pp., 26 Illustrations. - - IX. April 1896, 256 pp., 17 Illustrations. - - X. July 1896, 340 pp., 13 Illustrations. - - XI. October 1896, 342 pp., 12 Illustrations. - - XII. January 1897, 350 pp., 14 Illustrations. - - XIII. April 1897, 316 pp., 18 Illustrations. - - -BALLANTYNE PRESS - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Making of a Prig, by Evelyn Sharp - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAKING OF A PRIG *** - -***** This file should be named 42153-8.txt or 42153-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/5/42153/ - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa McDaniel and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |