"I don't know what to think; they were very good friends, but I do not think Katherine was in love with him. She is a curious girl. I often am tempted to fancy she has something on her mind."

"Nonsense, my dear Miss Payne. I never met a finer, truer nature than Katherine Liddell's," cried Mrs. Needham, an affectionate smile lighting up her handsome, kindly face. "The worst of it is, I do not know whom to blame, and Katherine has put me on honor not to ask her."

"I cannot help you," said Miss Payne; and she fell into a thoughtful silence, while Mrs. Needham watched her eagerly.

"I am going away for a few weeks," resumed Miss Payne. "I have let my house, and I shall go to Sandbourne; the weather seems settled, and it will be pleasant there. If you can spare her, I will ask Katherine to come with me, she liked the place, and perhaps in the intimacy of every-day life she may tell me what happened; but, remember, _I'll_ not tell you unless she gives me leave."

"No, no, of course not; but I am sure she would trust _me_ as soon as anyone.'

"Very likely. It will just depend upon who is near her when she is in a confidential mood."

"Perhaps. I am sure it would do her good; and Sandbourne is not far. If De Burgh wants to make it up, he can easily run down there."

"Yes, he knows his way. I am not sure that he is the right man, though,"

said Miss Payne, reflectively; "he is too ready to ride rough-shod over everyone and everything."

"Do you think so? I must say I thought him a delightful person, so natural and good-natured."

"Well, let me go and see Katherine. I am anxious to take her away with me."

Katherine was most willing to accept Miss Payne's proposition. She was soothed and gratified by the thoughtful kindness shown her by both her friends, and anxious to refresh her mind and recruit her strength before taking up her life again.

"You are so good to think of taking me with you," she cried, when Miss Payne ceased speaking. "I should like greatly to go, if Mrs. Needham can spare me."

"Of course I can. You will come back a better secretary than ever,"

exclaimed that lady, cheerfully. "I will try to run down and see you some Sat.u.r.day. It is rather a new place, this Sandbourne, isn't it?"

"Yes; it is not crowded yet."

"When do you go down there?"

"On Sat.u.r.day afternoon," returned Miss Payne. "I have taken rooms at Marine Cottage; you know, it is at the end of the parade, near an old house."

"Yes, quite well; it is a nice little place."

"I will write to secure another bedroom; and let us meet at the station on Sat.u.r.day. I go by the 2.50 train." A few more preliminaries and the affair was settled.

Previous to leaving town, however, Katherine felt she must see Rachel Trant, though she half dreaded meeting her. It must have been an awful blow to meet De Burgh as she did. Would she divine what brought him there? Katherine felt she had been cold and remiss in having kept silence towards her friend so long, and, when Miss Payne left, she walked with her across the park to Rachel's abode, in spite of Mrs.

Needham's a.s.surances that it would be too much for her, and r.e.t.a.r.d the recovery of her nervous forces, etc., etc.

Katherine was not kept long waiting in the neat little back parlor, which was Miss Trant's private room. Rachel came to her looking very white, while she breathed quickly. She paused just within the door, in a hesitating, uncertain way, which seemed to Katherine very pathetic.

"Oh! Rachel," she cried, her soft brown eyes suffused with tears as she tenderly kissed her brow, "I know everything, and--I will never see him again."

"He is not all bad," said Rachel, in a low tone, as she clasped Katherine's hand in both her own.

"No, I am sure he is not; but he has pa.s.sed out of our lives; let us speak of him no more."

"I should be glad not to do so; but he has written me a letter I should like you to see. He seems grieved for the past and makes munificent offers."

"I should rather not see it, Rachel. I want to forget. Did you reply?"

"I did, very gravely, very shortly. I told him I wanted nothing, that the best friend I ever had had put me in the way perhaps to make my fortune, and--and, dearest Miss Liddell, if you care for----"

"But I do not, I did not," interrupted Katherine. "Oh! thank G.o.d I do not. How could I have borne what has come to my knowledge if I did? Now, let the past bury its dead."

"Is it not amazing that we should be so strangely linked together?"

murmured Rachel.

Katherine made no reply. After a short silence, as if they stood by a still open grave, Katherine began to speak of her intended visit to Miss Payne, and before they parted, though both were hushed and grave, they had glided into their usual confidential, affectionate tone. Business, however, was not mentioned.

"I wish you could see your cousin's little daughter," said Rachel, rather abruptly, as Katherine rose to bid her good-bye. "She's an interesting, naughty little creature, small of her age, but in some ways precocious. I am fond of her, partly, I suppose, because she likes me.

There is something familiar to me in her face, yet I cannot say that she actually resembles anyone."

"I should like to see her," returned Katherine; and soon after she left her friend, relieved and calmed by the feeling that the explanation was over.

"Well, my dear," cried Mrs. Needham, when they met at dinner. "I have a great piece of news for you: Mr. Errington is to be the new editor of _The Cycle_. A capital thing for him! and that accounts for the announcement of the marriage being held back, just to let people get accustomed to the first start. It shows what Bradley thinks of him. It is really a grand triumph to get such an appointment after so short an apprenticeship."

"I am glad of it, very glad," returned Katherine, thoughtfully. "I suppose he is considered very clever."

"A first-rate man, quite first-rate, for all serious tough subjects. I think, dear, if I could run down on Sat.u.r.day week till Monday it would be an immense refreshment;" and Mrs. Needham wandered off into the discussion of a variety of schemes.

On the Sat.u.r.day following, Katherine and her faithful chaperon set out for their holiday with mutual satisfaction and a hope that they left their troubles behind them.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

RECONCILIATION.

The change to Sandbourne did Katherine good; she grew calmer, more resigned, though still profoundly sad. The sense of having been brought in touch with one of the most cruel problems of society affected her deeply, and the contrast between the present and past of a year ago, when she had the boys with her, forced her to review her mental conditions since the great change in her fortunes wrought by her own act.

She had ample time for thought. Miss Payne was suffering from touches of rheumatism, which made long walks impossible; so Katherine wandered about alone.

The weather was bright, but, although it was the beginning of May, not warm enough to sit amongst the rocks at the point. Katherine, however, often walked to and fro recalling De Burgh's looks and tones the day he had opened his heart to her there. He was not a bad fellow--no, far from it; indeed, she knew that, if her heart had not been filled with Errington, she could have loved De Burgh. How was it that a man of feeling, of so-called honor, with a certain degree of discrimination between right and wrong, could have broken the moral law and been so callous as he had shown himself?

There was no use in thinking about it; it was beyond her comprehension.

All she hoped was that time might efface the cruel lines which sorrow and remorse had cut deep into Rachel's heart.

With Miss Payne, Katherine was cheerful and companionable. They spoke much of Bertie. His decision to take orders would have given his sister unqualified satisfaction had he also sought preferment in England.

"A clergyman's position is excellent," she said, confidentially, as they sat together in the drawing-room window one bl.u.s.tery afternoon, when Katherine was not tempted to go out. "Bertie is just the stuff to make a popular preacher of, and so long as he is properly ordained I don't care how he preaches, but I don't like him to be cla.s.sed with ranting, roaring vagabonds! Then, you see, there are no men who have such opportunities as clergymen of picking up well-dowered wives. I believe women are ready to propose themselves rather than not catch what some of them are pleased to term "a priest." It's a weakness I never could understand. What induces him to run off among the heathen?--can't he find heathen enough at home? If he gets into these outlandish places, I shall never see him again, and, between you and me, he is the only creature I care for. He thinks he is inspired by the love of G.o.d, but I know he is driven by the love of _you_."

"Of me, Miss Payne?" exclaimed Katherine, startled and greatly pained.

"Yes, you; and I wish you could see your way to marry him. It would be no great match for either of you, but he would be another and a happier man; and, as for you, your rejection of Lord de Burgh (I suppose you _did_ refuse him) shows you do not care for riches."