"Do you intend to give up without a struggle? What account does this intruder give of himself?"

Katherine gave him a brief sketch of the story, speaking with firmness and composure.

"What an infernal shame!" cried De Burgh, when she ceased speaking. "I wish I had had a chance of sending a bullet through his head, and as sure as there is a devil down below I'd have verified the report of his death! Why, what is to be done?"

"I still faintly hope Mr. Newton may persuade him to forego his first demand for the restoration of those moneys I have spent. If so, I am not quite penniless, and can hope to-- At all events, I thought it but right to give you early information, as--"

"Why?" interrupted De Burgh (for she hesitated), throwing himself on the ottoman and leaning against the arm which divided the seats, till his long dark mustaches nearly touched the coils of her hair. "Why?" he repeated, as she did not answer immediately. "I know well enough. It is your loyalty that makes you wish to open a way of escape to the friend who is credited with seeking your fortune. I see it all."

"You can a.s.sign any motive you like, Mr. De Burgh, but I thought--I wished--I believed it better to let you know; for I shall always consider you my friend, even if we do not meet," said Katherine, a good deal unhinged by the excitement and distress he displayed.

"Meet? why, of course we shall meet! Do you think anything in heaven or earth would make me give up the attempt, hopeless as it may seem, to win you? I know you don't care a rap for me now, but I cannot, dare not despair. I've too much at stake. There is the awful sting of this misfortune. Even if you, by some blessed intervention of Providence, were ready to marry me, I don't see how I could drag you into such a sea of trouble. Besides, there's old De Burgh; he must be kept in good-humor. By Heaven! this miserable want of money is the most utter degradation--irresistible, enslaving. I feel like a beaten cur. I am tied hand and foot. Had I not been such a reckless idiot, why, your misfortunes might have been my best chance. I dare say that sounds shabby enough, but I like to let you see what I am, good and bad; besides, I am ready to do _anything_, right or wrong, to win you."

"Ah, Mr. De Burgh, no crookedness ever succeeds. And then I do not deserve that you should think so much or care so much for me, for I do not wish to marry you or any one. My plan of life is framed on quite different lines. Do put me out of your mind, and think of your own fortunes. Do not vex Lord De Burgh; but oh! pray give up racing and gambling. You know I really do like you, not exactly in the way you wish, but it adds greatly to my troubles (for I am very sorry to lose my fortune, I a.s.sure you) to see you so--so disturbed."

"If you look at me so kindly with those sweet wet eyes I shall lose my head," cried De Burgh, who was already beside himself, for the gulf which had suddenly yawned between him and the woman he coveted seemed to grow wider as he looked at it. "I am the most unlucky devil in existence, and I have brought _you_ ill luck. I should have kept away from you, for you are a hundred thousand times too good for me; but as I _have_ thrown myself headlong into the delicious pain of loving you, won't you give me a chance? Promise to wait for me: a week, a day, may see me wealthy, and I swear I will strive to be worthy too: why were those bush-rangers such infernally bad-shots?--and I can be no use to you whatever?"

"But I have many kind friends, Mr. De Burgh. You must not distress yourself about me. I am not frightened, I a.s.sure you. Now I have told you everything, don't you think you would better go?" She rose as she spoke, and held out her hand.

"Better for you, yes, but not for me. Look here, Katherine, don't banish me. I am obliged to go with old De Burgh to Paris. He is making for Cannes again, and asked me to come so far. Of course he has a chain round my neck. I must obey orders like his bond-slave, but when I come back--don't banish me. I swear I'll be an un.o.btrusive friend, and I may be of use. Don't send me quite away; in short, I won't take a dismissal.

What is it you object to? What absurd stories have been told you to set you against me? Other women have liked me well enough."

"I have no doubt you deserve to be loved, Mr. De Burgh, but there are feelings that, like the wind, blow where they list; we cannot tell whence they come or whither they go. I am sorry I do not love you, but--I am very tired. If you care to come and see me when you come back, come _if_ I have any place in which to receive you."

"If I write, will you answer my letters?"

"Oh no; don't write; I would rather you did not."

"I am a brute to keep you when you look so white; I'll go. Good-by for the present--only for the present, you dear, sweet woman!" He kissed her hand twice and went quickly out of the room.

Katherine heaved a sigh of relief. The degree of liking she had for De Burgh made her feel greatly distressed at having been obliged to give him pain. Yet she was not by any means disposed to trust him; his restless eagerness to gratify every whim and desire as it came to him, the kind of harshness which made him so indifferent to the feelings and opinions of those who opposed him--this was very repellent to Katherine's more considerate and sympathetic nature. Besides, and above all, De Burgh was not Errington; and it needs no more to explain why the former, who had no reason hitherto to complain of the coldness of women, found the only one he had ever loved with a high order of affection untouched by his wooing.

The day after this interview Katherine, accompanied by Miss Payne, went down to Sandbourne to interview the princ.i.p.al of the boys' school, to explain the state of affairs, to give notice that she should be obliged to remove them, and to pay in advance for the time they were to remain.

The visit was full of both pain and pleasure. The genuine delight of the children on seeing her unexpectedly, their joy at being permitted to go out to walk with her, their innocent talk, and the castles in the air which they erected in the firm conviction that they were to have horses and dogs, man-servants and maid-servants, all the days of their lives, touched her heart. The princ.i.p.al gave a good account of both. Cecil was, he said, erratic and excitable in no common degree, but though troublesome, he was truthful and straightforward, while Charlie promised to develop qualities of no common order. He entered with a very friendly spirit into the anxiety of the young aunt, whose motherly tenderness for her nephews touched him greatly. He gave her some valuable advice, and the address of two schools regulated to suit parents of small means, and which he could safely recommend. By his suggestion nothing was said for the present to Cis or Charlie regarding the impending change, lest they should be unsettled.

"And shall we come to stay at Miss Payne's for the Easter holidays?"

cried the boys in chorus, as Katherine took leave of them the next day.

"I hope so, dears, but I am not sure."

"Then will you come down to Sandbourne? That would be jolly."

"I cannot promise, Cecil. We will see."

"But, auntie, we'll not have to go to Castleford?"

"Why? Would you not like to go?"

"No. Would you, Charlie? I don't like being there nearly so much as at school. I don't like having dinner by ourselves, and yet I don't care to dine with Colonel Ormonde; he is always in a wax."

"He does not mean to be cross," said Katherine, her heart sinking within her. Should she be obliged to hand over the poor little helpless fellows to the reluctant guardianship of their irritable step-father? This would indeed be a pang. Was it for this she had broken the law, and marred the harmony of her own moral nature?

"Well, my own dear, I will do the best I can for you, you may be quite sure. Now you must let me go; I will come again as soon as I can." Cis kissed her heartily, and scampered away to take his place in the cla.s.s-room, quite content with his school life. Charlie threw his arms around his auntie's neck, and clung to her lovingly. But he too was called away, and nothing remained for Katherine and her companion but to make their way to the station and return to town.

This visit cost Katherine more than any other outcome of George Liddell's reappearance. Her quick imagination depicted what the boys'

lives would be under the jurisdiction of their mother and her husband--the worries, the suppression, the sense of being always naughty and in the wrong, the different yet equally pernicious effect such treatment would have on the brothers.

"This is the worst part of the business to you," said Miss Payne, when they had reached home and sat down to a late tea together. "You look like a ghost, or as if you had seen one. You will make yourself ill, and really there is no need to do anything of the kind. Those children have a mother who is very well off. I always thought it frightfully imprudent of you to take those boys even when you had plenty of money. Now, of course, when it is impossible for you to keep them, it is a bitter wrench to part, but--"

"But I am not sure that we must part," interrupted Katherine, eagerly.

"Should my cousin be induced to forego his claims upon me for the income I have expended, and I can find some means of maintaining myself, I could still provide for their school expenses and keep them with me."

"Maintain yourself, my dear Katherine; it is easier said than done. You are quite infatuated about those nephews of yours, and I dare say they will give you small thanks."

"I know it is not easy for an untrained woman like myself to find remunerative work, but I shall try. Here is a note from Mr. Newton asking me to call on him to-morrow. Let us hope he will have some good news, though I cannot help fearing he would have told me in this if he had."

It was with a sickening sensation of uneasy hope shot with dark streaks of fear that Katherine started to keep her appointment with Mr. Newton.

Eager to begin her economy at once, Katherine took an omnibus instead of indulging in a brougham or a cab. She could not help smiling at her own sense of helpless discomfort when a fat woman almost sat down upon her, and the conductor told her to look sharp when the vehicle stopped to let her alight; as she reflected that barely three years ago she considered an omnibus rather a luxury, and that it was a matter of careful calculation how many pennies might be saved by walking to certain points whence one could travel at a reduced fare. How easily are luxurious and self-indulgent habits formed! Well, she had done with them forever now; nor would anything seem a hardship were she but permitted to repair in some measure the evil she had wrought.

She found Mr. Newton awaiting her with evident impatience. "Well, my dear Miss Liddell," he said, "I have been most anxious to see you, though I have not much that is cheering to communicate. I have had several interviews with your cousin, but he seems still unaccountably hard and vindictive. However, as I am, of course, _your_ adviser, he has been obliged to seek another solicitor, and I am happy to say he has fallen into good hands, and that by a sort of lucky chance."

"How?" asked Katherine, who was looking pale and feeling in the depths.

"Well, a few days ago a gentleman called here to ask me for the address of a former client of whom I have heard nothing for years. I think you know or have met this gentleman--Mr. Errington."

"I do," cried Katherine, now all attention.

"While we were speaking Mr. Liddell was announced. Errington looked at him hard, and then asked politely if he were the son of the late Mr.

John Liddell, who had been a great friend of his (Errington's) father.

Your cousin seemed to know the name, and, moreover, very pleased at being spoken to and remembered. Mr. Errington offered to call, and now I find he has recommended his own solicitors, Messrs. Compton & Barnes, to George Liddell. I had an interview with the head of the firm yesterday, and he has evidently advised that the strictly legal claims against you should not be pressed. I cannot help thinking that Mr. Errington has interested himself on your side."

"Indeed!" cried Katherine, life and warmth coming back to her heart at his words.

"Yes, I do. Compton appears to have the highest possible opinion of Errington as a man of integrity and intelligence. He, Compton says, believes that if Liddell could be persuaded such a line of conduct toward you would injure him socially, he would not seek to enforce his rights, for he is evidently anxious to make a position in the respectable world. As you make no opposition to his claims he ought to show you consideration. This accidental encounter between Errington and your cousin will, I am sure, prove a fortunate circ.u.mstance."

In her own mind Katherine could not help doubting its accidental character. How infinitely good and forgiving Errington was! While she thought, Mr. Newton mused.

"I suppose you have a tolerable balance at the bank?" he said, abruptly.

"Yes. I have never spent a year's income in a year. Just lately, except for buying that house, I have spent very little."

"That house! Oh--ah! I shall be curious to see how Miss Trant will behave. If she is true to her word; if she looks upon your loan to her as a loan--an investment on your side--you may gain an addition to your income through what was an act of pure benevolence. When you go home, my dear young lady, look at your bank-book, and let me know exactly how you stand. We might offer this cormorant of a cousin a portion of your savings to finish the business. Indeed I should advise you to draw a good large check at once so as to provide yourself with ready money."

"Would it be quite--quite honest to do so?" asked Katherine, anxiously.

"Pray do you impugn my integrity?"