The next day, a drizzling damp morning, Katherine, feeling unusually nervous, was quite ready when Bertie called for her. The drive to Camden Town seemed very long, but it came to an end at last, all the sooner because Bertie stopped the cab some little way way from the sweety shop.

"I have brought a young lady to see your invalid," said Bertie, introducing Katherine to Mrs. Dodd, a short broad old lady, with a shawl neatly pinned over her shoulders, a snowy white cap with black ribbons, and a huge pair of spectacles, over which she seemed always trying to look.

"I'm sure it's that kind of you, sir. And I _am_ glad you have come. The poor thing has been offering me a nice black dress this morning to let her stay on. It's the last decent thing she has. I expect she has been just living on her clothes. I'll go and tell her. Maybe miss will come after me, so as not to give her time to say no?"

Katherine cast a troubled look at Bertie. "Don't wait for me," she said; "your time is always so precious. I dare say I can get a cab for myself." And she followed Mrs. Dodd up a steep narrow dark stair.

"Here is a nice lady come to see you," said Mrs. Dodd, in a soothing tone suited to an infant or a lunatic.

"No, no; I don't want any lady; I would rather not see any lady," cried a voice naturally sweet-toned, but now touched with shrill terror.

Curiously enough, this token of fear gave Katherine courage. Here was some poor soul wanting comfort sorely.

"Do not forbid me to come in," she said, walking boldly into the room, and addressing the inmate with a kind bright smile. "I very much want some needle-work done, and I shall be glad if you will undertake it."

While she spoke, Mrs. Dodd retired and softly closed the door. Katherine found herself face to face with a ladylike-looking young woman, small and slight--slight even to extreme thinness--fair-skinned, with large blue eyes, delicate features, a quant.i.ty of fair hair carelessly coiled up, and with white cheeks. The strange pallor of her trembling lips, the despair in her eyes, the shrinking, hunted look of face and figure, almost frightened her visitor. "I hope you are not vexed with me for coming in," faltered Katherine, deferentially; "but they said you wanted employment, and I should like to give you some. You must be ill, you look so pale. Can I not be of some use to you?"

The girl's pale cheek flushed as, partially recovering herself, she stood up holding the back of her chair, her eyes fixed on the floor; she seemed endeavoring to speak, but the words did not come. At last, in a low, hesitating voice: "You are too good. I have tried to find work vainly; now I do not think I have the force to do any." The color faded away from the poor sunken cheeks, and the eyes hid themselves persistently under the downcast lids.

"I am sure you are very weak," returned Katherine, tenderly, for there was something inexpressibly touching in the hopelessness of the stranger's aspect. "But some good food and the prospect of employment will set you up, When you are a little stronger and know me better you will perhaps tell me how Mr. Payne and I can best help you. We all want each other's help at times; and life must not be thrown away, you know.

I do not wish to intrude upon you, but you see we are nearly of an age, and we ought to understand and help each other. It is my turn now; it may be yours by-and-by."

"Mine!" with unspeakable bitterness.

"Do sit down," said Katherine, who felt her tears very near her eyes, "and I will sit by you for a little while. Why, you are unfit to stand, and you are so cold!" She pulled off her gloves, and taking one of the poor girl's hands in both her own soft warm ones, chafed it gently. No doubt practically charitable people would smile indulgently at Katherine's enthusiastic sympathy; but she was new to such work, and felt that she had to deal with no common subject. Whether it was the tender tone or the kindly touch, but the hard desperate look softened, and big tears began to roll down, and soon she was weeping freely, quietly, while she left her hand in Katherine's, who held it in silence, feeling how the whole slight frame shook with the effort to control herself.

At length Katherine rose and went downstairs to take counsel with Mrs.

Dodd. "She seems quite unable to recover herself. Ought she not to have a little wine or something?"

"Yes, miss; it's just _that_ she wants. She is nigh starved to death."

"Have you any wine?"

"Well, no, miss; but there's a tavern round the corner where you can get very good port from the wood. I'll send the girl for a pint."

"Pray do, and quickly, and some biscuits or something; here is some money. What is her name?"

"Trant--Miss Trant," returned Mrs. Dodd, knowing who her interrogator meant. "Leastways we always called her miss, for she is quite the lady."

Katherine hurried back, and found Miss Trant lying back in her chair greatly exhausted. With instinctive tact Katherine a.s.sumed an air of authority, and insisted on her patient eating some biscuits soaked in wine.

Presently Miss Trant sat up, and, as if with an effort raised her eyes to Katherine's. "I am not worth so much trouble," she said. "You deserve that I should obey you. It is all I can do to show grat.i.tude. If, then, you will be content with very slow work, I will thankfully do what you wish; but I must have time."

"So you shall," cried Katherine, delightedly. "You shall have plenty of time to make me a dress; that will be more amusing than plain work. I will bring you the material to-morrow, and if you fit me well, you know, it may lead to a great business;" and she smiled pleasantly.

"What is your name?" asked the patient, feebly. Katherine told her. "You are so good, you make me resigned to live."

"Do you care to read?"

"I used to love it; but I have no books, nor could I attend to the sense of a page if I had."

"If you sit here without book or work, I do not wonder at your being half dead."

"Not nearly half dead yet; dying by inches is a terribly long process. I am dreadfully strong."

"I will not listen to you if you talk like that. Well, I will bring you some books--indeed, I will send you some at once if you will promise to read and divert your thoughts. To-morrow afternoon I will come, you shall take my measure (I like to be made to look nice), and you shall begin again."

"Begin again! Me! That would be a miracle."

"Now try and get a little sleep," said Katherine, "your eyes look so weary. You want to stop thinking, and only sleep can still thought. When you wake you shall find some of the new magazines, and you must try and attend to them."

"I will, for your sake."

"Good-by, then, till to-morrow;" and having pressed her hand kindly, Katherine departed.

It was quite a triumph for Katherine to report her success to Bertie that evening. Miss Payne rather shook her head over the whole affair.

"I must say it puts me on edge altogether to hear you two rejoicing over this young woman's condescension in accepting the work you lay at her feet, while such crowds of starving wretches are begging and praying for something to do; and here is a mysterious young woman with lady-like manners and remarkable eyes, taken up all at once because she won't eat and refuses to speak. It isn't just. I suspect there is something in her past she does not like to tell."

"Your _resume_ of the facts makes Mr. Payne and me seem rather foolish,"

said Katherine. "Yet I am convinced she is worth helping, and that no common methods will do to restore to her any relish for life. She interests me. I may be throwing away my time and money, but I will risk it."

"It is hard to say, of course, whether she is a deserving object or not," added Bertie, thoughtfully; "and I have been taken in more than once."

"More than once?" echoed his sister in a peculiar tone.

"Still, I feel with Miss Liddell that this girl's, Rachel Trant's, is not a common case," continued Bertie.

"Her very name is suggestive of grief," said Katherine, "and she, too, refuses to be comforted. I am sure she will tell me her story later. Her landlady says she never receives or sends a letter, and does not seem to have a creature belonging to her. Such desolation is appalling."

"And shows there is something radically wrong," added Miss Payne.

"I acknowledge that it has a dubious appearance," said Bertie, and turned the conversation.

Katherine was completely taken out of herself by the interest and curiosity excited by her meeting with Rachel Trant. She visited her daily, and saw that she was slowly reviving. She took a wonderful interest in the dress which Katherine had given her to make, and, moreover, succeeded in fitting her admirably. She was evidently weak and unequal to exertion, yet she worked with surprising diligence. Her manner was very grave and collected--respectful, yet always ready to respond to Katherine's effort to draw her out.

The subject on which she spoke most readily was the books Katherine lent her. Her taste was decidedly intelligent and rather solid. To the surprise of her young benefactress, she expressed a distaste for novels--stories, as she called them. "I used to care for nothing else,"

she said; "but they pain me now." She expressed herself like an educated, even refined, woman; and though she said very little about grat.i.tude, it showed in every glance, in the very tone of her voice, and in her ready obedience to whatever wish Katherine expressed. The greatest sacrifice was evidently compliance with her new friend's suggestion that she should take exercise and breathe fresh air.

Miss Payne, after critically examining Katherine's new garment, declared it really well made, inquired the cost, and finally decided that she would have an every-day dress for herself, and that "Miss Trant" should make it up. Then Katherine presented the elegant young woman who waited on her with a gown, promising to pay for the making if she employed her protegee.

"Miss Trant" could not conceal her reluctance to come so far from the wilds of Camden Town; but she came, closely m.u.f.fled in a thick gauze veil, doubtless to guard against cold in the chill March evening.

Katherine was immensely pleased to find that both gowns gave satisfaction, though the "elegant young woman's" praise was cautious and qualified.

CHAPTER XIII.

RECOGNITION.