"Far off!" echoed Mrs. Needham. "You don't call ten days far off? But I must run away and finish my letter. A journalist is the slave of her pen. Good morning, Lord de Burgh. I'll send the boys to you, Katherine."

"That is an admirable and meritorious woman," and De Burgh, drawing a chair beside the sofa where Katherine sat. "Why are you so savagely opposed to anything like friendly intercourse with me--so reluctant to let me do anything for you? Do you think I am such a cad as to think that _anything_ I could do would ent.i.tle me to consider you under an obligation?"

"No, indeed, Lord de Burgh! I believe you to be too true a gentleman for--"

"For what? I see you are afraid of giving me what is called, in the slang of the matrimonial market, encouragement. Just put all that out of your mind, Let me have a little enjoyment, however things may end, and, believe me, I'll never blame you. I am not going to trouble you with my hopes and wishes, not at least for some time; and then, whatever the upshot, on my head be it."

"But I cannot bear to give you pain."

"Then don't--"

"Auntie, we are quite clean. Won't you come back to tea at Miss Payne's?

Do make her come, Lord de Burgh."

"Ah, it is beyond my powers to make her do anything."

"I cannot come now, my darlings; but I will be with you about half past six, and we'll have a game before you go to bed."

"Come along, boys; we have intruded on your aunt long enough. Don't forget the circus on Friday, Miss Liddell."

Another hug from Cis and Charlie, a slight hand pressure from their newly found playfellow, and Katherine was left to her own reflections.

The expedition to the circus was most successful. It was on his way from Wilton Street to call for Katherine, on this occasion, that De Burgh encountered Mrs. Ormonde. Need we say that she lost no time in making the proposed call on her sister-in-law; unfortunately Katherine was out; so Mrs. Ormonde was reduced to writing a requisition for an interview with her boys and their aunt.

This was accordingly planned at Miss Payne's house, and Mrs. Ormonde was quite charming, playful, affectionate, tearful, repentant, apologetic for "Ormonde," and deeply moved at parting from her boys, who where somewhat awed by this display of feeling. Still she did not succeed in breaking the "cold chain of silence" which Katherine persisted in "hanging" over the events of the past week.

"So De Burgh took the boys about everywhere?" said Mrs. Ormonde, as Katherine went downstairs with her when she was leaving, and they were alone together. "It is something new for him to play the part of children's maid; and, do you know, he only left cards on us, and never asked to come in."

"He was always good-natured," returned Katherine, with some embarra.s.sment; "and, you remember, he used to notice Cis and Charlie at Castleford a good deal."

"Yes; after _you_ came," significantly. "Never mind, Katie dear, I am not going to worry you with troublesome questions; but I am sure no one in the world would be more delighted than myself _did_ you make a brilliant match."

"Believe me, there will never be anything brilliant about me, Ada."

"Well, we'll see. When do you take the boys to school?

"On Wednesday; should you like to come and see the place?"

"I should like it of all things, but I mustn't, dear."

"I do hope the school may prove all I expect; but the change will be bad for Charlie. He had lost nearly all his nervousness; strange teachers and a new system may bring it back."

"Oh, I hope not. Does he still stop short and speechless, and then laugh as if it were a good joke, when he is puzzled or frightened?"

"Very rarely, I believe. I will write to you the day after I leave the boys at Wandsworth. They don't like going at all, poor dears.'

"Well, we shall not be much longer in town, I am sorry to say, and I want a few things from Miss Trant before I go. I suppose she will not raise her prices to me?"

"Oh no, I am sure she will not."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

"MISS BRADLEY AT HOME."

It was a bleak, blowy day when Katherine took the boys to school, and on returning she went straight to Miss Payne, who had promised to have tea ready for her.

Somewhat to her regret, she found only Bertie Payne, who explained that his sister had been called away about some business connected with a lady with whom she was trying to come to terms respecting her house, which she had now decided on letting.

"And how did you part with the boys?" he asked when he had given her a cup of tea and brought her the most comfortable chair.

"It was very hard to leave them," returned Katherine, whose eyes looked suspiciously like recently shed tears. "The place did not look half so nice to-day as I thought it was. Everything is rough and ready. The second master, too, is a harsh, severe-looking man. Of course he has not much authority; still, had I seen him, I do not think I should have agreed to send Cis and Charlie there; but now I am committed to a quarter. I cannot afford to indulge whims, and, at all events, they are within an easy distance. Charlie looked so white, and clung to me as if he would never let me go! How hard life is!"

"This portion of it is, and wisely so. We must set our affections on things above. I have been learning this lesson of late as I never thought I should have to learn it."

"_You_?--you who are so good, so unworldly? Oh, Mr. Payne, what do you mean? You are looking ill and worn."

"I have been fighting a battle of late," he returned, with his sweet, patient smile, "and I have conquered. The right road has been shown to me, the right way, and I am determined to walk in it."

"What are you going to do?" asked Katherine, with a feeling of alarm.

"I am going to take orders, and join the missionary ranks, either in India or China. Work in England was growing too easy--too heavenly sweet--to be any longer saving to my own soul."

"But Mr. Payne, don't you see that your own poor country people have the first claim upon you--that you are leaving a work for which you are so wonderfully well suited, in which you are so successful? Oh, do think!

Here you leave people of your own race, whose wants, whose characters you can understand, to run away to creatures of another climate--a different stock--whose natures, in my opinion, unfit them for a faith such as ours, and who never, never will accept our religion!"

"Hush!" cried Payne, in an excited tone. "Do not torture me by showing the appalling gulf which separates us. Strange that a heart so tender as yours to all mere human miseries should yet be adamant against the Saviour's loving touch. This has been my cruel cross, and my only safety lies in flight, wretched man that I am!"

"I am dreadfully distressed about you, Mr. Payne. Does your sister know?

It is really unkind to her."

"That must not weigh with me. Even if the right hand offends you, 'cut it off,' is the command."

"At all events, you must study, or go though some preparation, before you are ordained, and perhaps in that interval you may change your views. I do hope you will. I should be indeed sorry to lose sight of a true friend like yourself."

"A friend!" he returned, his brow contracting as if with pain. "You do not know the depths of my selfishness----"

The entrance of Miss Payne interrupted the conversation, and Bertie immediately changing the subject, Katherine understood that he did not as yet intend to speak to his sister of his new plans.

To Miss Payne, Katherine had again to describe her parting with her nephews, and she, in her turn, talked comfortably of her affairs. She thought of going abroad for a short time should she let her house, as nothing very eligible offered in the shape of a young lady to chaperon.

Indeed she was somewhat tired of that sort of life, etc., etc. At length Katherine bade them adieu, and returned to her present abode with a very sad heart.

The parting with her nephews had been a sore trial. The idea of Bertie, her kind friend, whose sympathetic companionship had helped her so much to overcome the poignancy of her first grief for her dear mother, going away to banishment, and perhaps death, at the hands of those whose souls he went to save, caused her the keenest pain; and for nearly a fortnight she had not seen Errington! She could not bring herself to ask where he was, and no one had happened to mention him. This was really better. His absence should be a help to forgetfulness; but somehow it was not. He was so vividly before her eyes; his voice sounded so perpetually in her heart.