"I rather suspect I am not a favored guest?"

"Why do you say that, Mr. De Burgh? am I uncivil?"

"No. What a fool I am making of myself! Tell me, are you really going away to-morrow to bury yourself alive?"

"I am _really_."

"After all, I believe you are right. _I_ am always bored in London.

Women think it a paradise."

"I like London so well that I shall probably make it my headquarters."

"It's rather premature for you to make plans, isn't it?"

"Whether it is or not, I have arranged my future much to my own satisfaction."

"The deuce you have! What, at nineteen?"

"Is that an attempt to find out my age?" asked Katherine, laughing.

"No! for I fancy I know it. How far is this place you are going to from town, and how do you get to it?"

"The journey takes about three hours and a half, and you travel by the Southwestern line."

"Well, I intend to have the pleasure of running down to see you presently, if you will permit me."

"Oh, of course, we shall be very happy to see you."

"I hope so," said De Burgh, with a smile. "I don't think you are very encouraging. If there are any decent roads about this place, shall we resume the driving lessons?"

"Thank you"--evasively. "I think of buying a donkey and chaise--certainly a pony for the boys."

De Burgh laughed. "I suppose there is some boating to be had there. I shall certainly have a look at the place, even if I be not admitted to the shrine." There was a pause, during which De Burgh seemed in profound but not agreeable thought; then he suddenly exclaimed: "By-the-way, have you heard the news? Old Errington died, rather sudden at last, some time last night."

"Indeed!" cried Katherine, roused to immediate attention. "I am very sorry to hear it. The marriage will then be put off. You know they were going to have it nearly a month sooner than was at first intended, because Mr. Errington feared the end was near. He was with his father, I hope?"

"Yes, I believe he hardly left him for the last few days. Now the wedding cannot take place for a considerable time."

"It will be a great disappointment," observed Katherine.

"To which of the happy pair?"

"To both, I suppose," she returned.

"Do you think they cared a rap about each other?"

"Yes, I do indeed. Every one has a different way of showing their feelings, and Mr. Errington is _quite_ different from _you_."

"Different--and immensely superior, eh?"

"I did not say so, Mr. De Burgh."

"No, certainly you did not, and I have no right to guess at what you think. You are right. I am very different from Errington; and _you_ are very different from Lady Alice. I fancy, were you in her place, even the irreproachable bridegroom-elect would find he had a little more of our common humanity about him than he suspects," said De Burgh, his dark eyes seeking hers with a bold admiring glance.

Katherine's cheek glowed, her heart beat fast with sudden distress and anger. De Burgh's suggestion stirred some strange and painful emotion.

"You are in a remarkably imaginative mood, Mr. De Burgh," she said, haughtily. "I cannot see any connection between myself and your ideas."

"Can't you? Well, my ideas gather round you very often."

"I wish he would go away; he is too audacious," thought Katherine. While she said, "I think Mr. Errington will be sorry for his father; I believe he has good feeling, though he is so cold and quiet."

"Oh, he has every virtue under the sun! At any rate he ought to be fond of him, for I fancy the old man has toiled all his life to be able to leave his son a big fortune."

"Has he no brothers or sisters?"

"Two sisters, I believe, older than himself; both married."

There was another pause. Katherine would not break it. She felt peculiarly irritated against De Burgh. His observations had greatly disturbed her. She could not, however, tell him to go, and he stood there looking perfectly at ease. This awkward silence was broken by the welcome appearance of Cecil, who burst into the room, exclaiming: "Auntie, tea is quite ready! There is beautiful chicken pie and b.u.t.tered cakes, and _such_ a beautiful cat!"

"What! for tea, Cis?" said Katherine, letting him catch her hand and try to drag her away.

"No--o. Why, what a silly you are! Puss is asleep in an arm-chair. Do come, auntie. The lady said I was tell you that tea was _quite_ ready."

"Which means that the audience is over," said De Burgh; "and I rather think you are not sorry." He smiled--not a pleasant smile. "Well, young man, did you never see me before?"--to Cecil, who was staring at him in the deliberate, persistent way in which children gaze at objects which fascinate yet partly frighten them.

"I was thinking you were like--" The little fellow paused.

"Like whom?"

Cis tightened his hold on his auntie's hand, and still hesitated.

"Whom is Mr. De Burgh like?" asked Katherine, amused by the boy's earnestness.

"Like the wicked uncle in the 'Babes in the Wood.' Auntie gave it to me.

Such a beautiful picture book!"

De Burgh laughed heartily and good-humoredly. "I can tell you, my boy, you would not find me a bad sort of uncle if it were ever my good fortune to call you nephew."

"But I have no uncle--only auntie," returned Cis.

"Ay, a very pearl of an auntie. Try and be a good boy. Above all, do what you are bid. I never did what I was bid, and you see what I have come to."

"I don't think there is much the matter with you," said Cis, eying him steadily. Then, with a sudden change in the current of his thoughts, he cried, "Do come, auntie; the cakes will be quite cold."

"I will keep you no longer from the banquet," said De Burgh. "I know you are wishing me at--well, my probable destination; so good-by for the present." Then, to Cecil: "Shall I come and see you at--what is the name of the place?--Sandbourne, and take you out for a sail in a boat--a big boat?"

"Oh, yes, please."