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Miss Payne was busy looking over several cards which lay in a small china dish on her work-table. It was early in the forenoon, and she still wore a simple muslin cap and a morning gown of gray cashmere. Her mouth looked very rigid and her eyes gloomy. To her enters her brother, fresh and bright, a smile on his lips and a flower in his button-hole.
Miss Payne vouchsafed no greeting. Looking at him sternly, she asked, "Well! what do you want?"
"To ask at what hour Miss Liddell arrives, and if I am to meet her at the station."
"She is not coming to-day," snapped Miss Payne; "she is not coming till Saturday."
"Indeed!" In a changed tone, "I hope she is all right?"
"It's hard to answer that. It seems one of the nephews has had a feverish cold, and she did not like to leave him. I do not feel sure there is not some real reason under this, for she adds that she is anxious to see and consult me about some matter she has much at heart. Perhaps there is a man at the bottom of it."
"I hope not," said Bertie, quietly, "unless she has found some former friend at Castleford. I do not think Miss Liddell is the sort of girl to accept a man on five or six weeks' acquaintance, and she has scarcely been at Castleford so long."
"It is impossible to fathom the folly of women when a lover is in the case."
"You are hard, Hannah."
"I do not care whether I am or not. I don't want to lose Miss Liddell before the time agreed for."
"No doubt she is a profitable—"
"It is no question of profit," interrupted Miss Payne, grimly. "Whether she goes or whether she stays she is bound to me financially for twelve months. But I am interested in Katherine, and it will be far better for her to stay on here and feel her way before she launches into the whirl of what they call society. I want to save her for a while from the wild rush of dressing, driving, dining, dancing, that has swept away all my girls sooner or later. Look here: the mothers are flocking round her already." She began to take the cards out of the dish and read the names: "Lady Mary Vincent, 23 Waldegrave Crescent; she is a sister of that Lord Melford who ran such a rig years ago. Her boys are still at Eton. I suppose she comes because her niece and Miss Liddell have struck up a friendship at Castleford. Then here are Mrs. and Miss Alford; we all knew them in Rome; there's a son there ; they are respectable people, well off, and fighting their way up judiciously enough. Lady Barrington; she has a nephew, but she will be useful. Mr. and Mrs. Tracey; they were at Florence, and have a couple of daughters; there may be a nephew or a cousin, but I never heard of one; they are pleasant, sensible, artistic people, who just enjoy themselves and don't trouble. Lady Mildred Reptan, Miss Brereton, John de Burgh; I don't know these. All these people evidently think she is in town, or have only just come themselves, but you see the outlook."
"John de Burgh," repeated Bertie, thoughtfully. "I remember something about him; nothing particularly good. I believe he is on the turf. Yes, he is a famous steeple-chase rider, and rather fast—not too desirable a follower for Miss Liddell."
"She met him at Castleford, and I rather think he is related to Colonel Ormonde." Miss Payne put back the cards in the dish as she spoke, and remained silent for some instants.
"You will be glad when Miss Liddell returns," said Bertie.
"So will you," she returned, tartly. "But I hope you won't dip into her purse so freely as you used for your reformed drunkards and ragged orphans. It was too bad."
"Miss Liddell never waits to be asked. She seems on the lookout for cases on which to bestow money. As she has plenty, why should I hesitate to accept it?"
Miss Payne slowly rubbed her nose with the handle of a small hook she used for pulling out the loops of her tatting. "Katherine Liddell is an uncommon sort of girl," she said, "but I like her. I have an idea that she likes me better than any of the others did, yet there are not many things on which we agree. She is a little flighty in some ways, but she has some sense too, some notion of the value of money; she does not lose her dead about dress, nor does she buy costly baubles at the jewellers'. She, certainly wastes a good many pounds on books, when a three-guinea subscription to Mudie's would answer the purpose quite as well. Then she is honestly deeply grieved at the loss of her mother, but she does not parade it, or nurse it either, and I think she has some opinion of my judgment. Still she is a little unsettled, and not quite happy."
"I think she deserves to be happy," observed Bertie, with an air of conviction—"if any erring mortal can deserve anything."
"We seldom get our deserts, either way, here ; indeed, this world is so upside down I am inclined to believe there must be another to put it straight."
"We have fortunately better proof than that," returned her brother, gravely.
"I must say I feel very curious to know what Katherine's plan is; I am terrible afraid there is a man in it."
"Nothing more probable;" and Bertie fell into a fit of thought. "You know Mrs. Needham!" he asked suddenly.
"Well, I just know her."
"She is a most earnest, energetic woman, though we are not quite of one mind on all subjects. She wants to secure Miss Liddell's assistance in getting up a bazar for the Stray Children's Home. I shall bring her to call on you."
"Don't!"—very emphatically. "I know more than enough people already, and I don't want any well-dressed beggars added to the number."
"Well, I will not interfere; but that is of little consequence. If Mrs. Needham wants to come, she'll come."
"I hate these fussy subscription-hunting women!" cried Miss Payne.
"She does not hunt for subscriptions, nor does she take any special interest in religious matters, but she approves of this particular charity. She is an immensely busy woman, and writes in I don't know now many newspapers."
"Newspapers! And are our opinions made up for us by rambling hussies of that description?"
Bertie burst out laughing. "If Mrs. Needham heard you!" he exclaimed. "She considers herself 'the glass of fashion and the mould of form,' the most successful and important woman in the world—the English world."
Miss Payne's only reply was a contemptuous upward toss of the head. "If you will be at Euston Square on Saturday to meet the five-fifty train from Monckton," she resumed, "I should be obliged to you—Miss Liddell travels alone—and you can dine with us if you like after, unless you are going to preach the gospel somewhere."
"Thank you. Why do you object to my preaching?"
"Because I like things done decently and in order. You are not ordained, and there are plenty of churches and chapels, God knows, for people to go to, if they would wash their faces and be decent. Now I can't stay here any longer, so good-by for the present." She took up a little basket containing an old pair of gloves, large scissors, and a ball of twine, and walked briskly away to attend to the plants in her diminutive conservatory.
De Burgh did not prolong his absence; he returned to Castleford while Katherine was still in attendance on the little invalid; but he found his stay neither pleasant nor profitable. Katherine was far too much occupied nursing her nephew to give any time or attention to her impatient admirer.
"Miss Liddell is a peculiar specimen of her sex," he growled, in his usual candid and unaffected manner, as he and Colonel Ormonde sat alone over their wine. "She never leaves those brats. She must know that it's not every girl I should take the trouble of teaching, and yet she throws over each appointment I make. Does she intend to adopt your wife's boys? Adopted sons are an appendage no man would like to accept with a bride, be she ever so well endowed."
"Oh, she will forget them as soon as she falls in love! You must carry on the siege more vigorously."
"How the deuce are you to do it when you never get within hail of the fortress? There is something peculiar about Katherine Liddell I can't quite make out. If she were a commonplace woman, angular, squinting, or generally plain, I could go in and win and collar the cash without hesitation, but somehow or other I can't go into the affair in this spirit. I want the woman as well as the money."
"Well, I see no reason why you shouldn't have both. Your faintness of heart never lost you any fair lady, I am sure, Jack."
"Perhaps not." And he smoked meditatively for a minute or two.
"Then you will not leave us to-morrow?" said Ormonde.
"When does she go up to town?" asked De Burgh.
"On Monday, I believe."
"Then I'll run up the day after to-morrow. Old De Burgh has just come back from the Riviera. I'll go and do the dutiful, and tell him I have found a suitable partner for my joys and sorrows; it will score to my credit. He doesn't half like me, you know. Then I'll have a dozen better chances to cultivate Miss Liddell in town, and away from your nursery, than I have here. Give me her address. She is a frank, unconventional creature, and won't mind coming out with me alone."
"Very true. Mrs. Ormonde has persuaded me to take her to town for a couple of months; so we'll be there to back you up."
"Good! Meanwhile I will do my best for my own hand. If she starts on Monday, I'll pay my respects to the peerless one by the time she has swallowed her luncheon on Tuesday," said De Burgh, with a harsh laugh.
Thus it came to pass that De Burgh's card was amongst those preserved for Katherine's inspection; but she postponed her departure first to Wednesday, next to Saturday, and De Burgh grew savagely impatient when Colonel Ormonde informed him of these changes in a private note.
When at last she did arrive, Miss Payne was struck by the look of renewed hope and cheerfulness in her young friend's face. Her movements even were more alert, and her voice had lost its languid tone.
"I thought you would find it difficult to get away," said Miss Payne, as she assisted her to remove her travelling dress. "But I am very pleased to see you again, and to see you looking more like yourself."
"I feel more like my old self," returned Katherine, actually kissing Miss Payne—a kind of treatment exceedingly new to her.
"In fact, I am full of a project which will, I hope, make me much happier. I will tell you all about it after dinner, if we are alone. Your advice will be of great value to me."
"Such as it is, I shall be glad to give it; though I do not suppose you'll take it unless it suits your wishes."
"Perhaps not," said Katherine, laughing; "but I think it will."
"She is going to marry some fortune-hunting scamp," thought Miss Payne. "I was afraid no good would come of her visit to that little dressy dolly sister-in-law of hers." She only said, "Dinner will be ready in half an hour, and we shall be quite alone."
Then she went quickly down stairs to her brother, who was gazing out of the window, but not seeing what he looked at.
"You can't dine here to-day, Bertie," said Miss Payne, abruptly, as she entered the room.
"And why not?"
"Because she wants to have some confidential conversation with me after dinner, and we must be alone."
"Have you any idea what it will be about?"
"No; and I am astonished at your putting the question. You may come in after church to-morrow if you like."
"Thank you. I shall be rather late, as I am going to an open-air service beyond Whitechapel."
"Well, I do hope you'll get something to eat after. Are you going to preach?"
"No. I seldom preach. I haven't the gift of eloquence."
"Which means you have a little common-sense left. Really, Gilbert, for a man of thirty-five, or nearly thirty-five, you are too credulous."
"It is my nature to be so," he returned, laughing. "Well, good-by to you. It is really unkind to turn me out in this unceremonious fashion." So saying, with his usual sweet-tempered compliance he departed.
"What a good boy he is!" said Miss Payne to herself, looking at the grate, while by a dual brain action she made a brief calculation as to how much longer she must burn coal. "He ought to have been a girl. Why don't rich young women see that he is the very stuff to make a pleasant husband, instead of those monsters of strength and determination that fools of women make gods of, and themselves door mats for, and often find to be only big pumpkins after all?"
Miss Payne's anticipations were of the gloomiest when, after their quickly despatched dinner, she settled herself between the fire and window with her favorite tatting, drawing up the knots with vicious energy. She opened proceedings by an interrogative "Well?" and closed her mouth with a snap.
"Well, my dear Miss Payne," began Katherine, who had settled herself comfortably in a corner of the sofa, "I have an important plan in my mind, and I want your co-operation. I should have written to you about it, only I waited to get Colonel Ormonde's consent."
"It's a man!" ejaculated Miss Payne to herself.
"To begin: I was not at all satisfied with the boys when I first went to Castleford. They were not exactly neglected, but they were quite secluded. Mrs. Ormonde scarcely saw them, and their governess or attendant was not at all lady-like; she speaks with a London accent and misplaces her h' s; altogether she is not the sort of person I should have placed with the boys. Then the poor little fellows clung to me and monopolized me as if I had been their mother; they made me feel like one. Moreover, I seemed to see my own dear mother and hear her voice when they spoke to me. She loved them so much!"
Katherine paused suddenly, but almost immediately resumed: "The youngest, Charlie, is not yet seven, and is very delicate. He has had rather a sharp attack of bronchitis. I am very anxious about him. How I want to take them to the sea-side next month, and to keep them there all the summer, and I want your help to find a nice place. I know nothing of the English coast. More than this: I feel I could not get on without you, so you must come with us. Suppose, dear Miss Payne, we take a house with a garden near the sea, and you let this one? I will gladly pay all extra cost, while our original agreement, as far as I myself am concerned, shall hold good."
Miss Payne listened attentively to this long speech, the expression of her countenance relaxing; but she did not reply at once.
"I think," she said, after a moment's thought, "that you are exceedingly liberal, but I am not sure you are wise. As far as I am concerned, I should like your plan very much. I do not profess to be fond of children, but I dare say these little boys would not interfere with me. As regards yourself, if you keep the children for the whole summer, it is possible Mrs. Ormonde might be inclined to leave them with you altogether, and this would create a burden for you—a burden you are by no means called upon to bear. It is a dangerous experiment."
"Not to me," returned Katherine, thoughtfully. "In fact it is a consummation for which I devoutly wish. I should like to adopt my nephews."
"That would certainly be foolish. It would not be kind to the children, Katherine (as you wish me to call you). In the course of a year or two you will marry, and then the creatures who had learned to love you and look on you as a mother would be again motherless. Do not take them from their natural guardian."
"What you say is very reasonable. You cannot know how certain I feel that I shall not marry. However, let us leave all that to arrange itself in the future; let us think of the present. Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde are coming up to town, for two or three months, in May, and I do not like the idea of Cis and Charlie being left behind; so will you help me, my dear Miss Payne? Shall you mind a spring and summer in some quiet sea-side place?"
Again Miss Payne reflected before she spoke. "I should rather like it: and your idea of letting this house is a good one. Yes, I shall be happy to assist you as far as I can. The first question is, where shall we go?"
"That, I am sure, you know best."
An interesting disquisition ensued. Miss Payne rejected Bournemouth, Weymouth, Worthing, Brighton, and Folkestone, for what seemed to Katherine sufficient reason, and finally recommended Sandbourne, a quiet and little-known nook on the Dorsetshire coast, as being mild but not relaxing, not too near nor too far from town, and possessing fine sands, while the country round was less bare and flat than what usually lies near the coast.
Finally the "friends in council" decided to go down and look at the place. "For," observed Miss Payne, "if we are to go away the beginning of next month, we have little more than a fortnight before us."
"By all means," cried Katherine, starting up. "Let us go to-morrow; we might 'do' the place in a day, and come back the next. You are really a dear, to fall into my views so readily."
"To-morrow? Oh! that's a little too fast; the day after, if you like. Now I wish you would look at these cards; they have all been left for you in the last few days."
Katherine took and looked over them with some running comments. "Mrs. Tracy! I shall be quite glad to see them again; they were always so kind and pleasant. Lady Mary Vincent! I did not think she would call so soon; I think I must go and see her to-morrow. I rather like her niece, Lady Alice Mordaunt; she is a nice, gentle girl. She is to be married very soon to a man who interested me a good deal; such a thoughtful, clever man, but rather provokingly composed and perfect—a sort of person who never makes a mistake."
"He must be a remarkable person," said Miss Payne.
"He will soon be in Parliament, and has some of the qualities which make a statesman, I imagine. I shall watch his progress." Here Katherine took up a card, and while she read the inscription, "John Fitzstephen de Burgh," a slight smile crept round her lips. "I had no idea he was in town, or that he would take the trouble of calling on me so soon. I thought he was too utterly offended."
"Why?" asked Miss Payne, looking at her curiously.
"He is rather ill-tempered, I fancy, and he was vexed because I preferred staying with Charlie to going out with him: he offered to teach me how to drive; so I believe, like the rich young man in the gospel, he went away in desperation."
"Hum! Is he a rich young man?"
"He is not young, and I am not sure about his being rich. He has a hunting-lodge and horses, yet I don't fancy he is rich. He is a sort of relation of the Ormondes."
"I suspect he is a spendthrift, and would like your money."
"Oh, very likely; but, my dear Miss Payne, you need not warn me; I am quite sufficiently inclined to believe that the men who show me attention are thinking more of what I have than what I am. Believe me it is not an agreeable frame of mind. Mr. De Burgh is a strange sort of character. He amuses me; he is not a bit like a modern man. He doesn't seem to think it worth while to conceal what he feels or thinks. There is an odd well-bred roughness about him, if I may use such an expression; but I greatly prefer him to Colonel Ormonde."
"Oh, you do? Colonel Ormonde is just an average man," added Miss Payne.
"I should hope the general average is higher; but I must not be ill-natured. He has always been very kind to me."
This was a pleasant interlude to Katherine. She had succeeded in hushing her heart to rest for a while, in banishing the thoughts which had long tormented her. Nothing had comforted and satisfied her as did this project of adopting her nephews. It is true she had not yet announced it, but in her own mind she resolved that once they were under her wing, she would not let them go again, unless indeed something quite unforeseen occurred; nor did she anticipate any difficulties with their mother. She would thus secure a natural legitimate interest in life, and make a home, which to a girl of her disposition was essential. Yet she knew well that in renouncing the idea of marriage she was denying one of the strongest necessities of her nature. The love and companionship of a man in whom she believed, for whom she could be ambitious, who would link her with the life and movement of the outer world, who would be the complement of her own being, was a dream of delight. Not that she felt in the least unable to stand alone, or fancied she was too delicate to take care of herself, but life without the love of another self could never be full and perfect. She was too true a woman not to value deeply the tenderness of a man; yet she had firmly resolved in justice to herself, in fairness to any possible husband, to renounce that crown of woman's existence. It was the only atonement she could make. Well, at least her loving care of these dear little boys, who were in point of fact motherless, would in some degree expiate her evil deed, and would keep her heart warm and her mind healthy.
Possessed of the true magic, "money," obstacles faded away. The expedition to Sandbourne was most successful. Katherine was brighter than Miss Payne had ever seen her before. The day was sunny, the place looked cheerful and picturesque. It lay under a wooded hill, ending in a bold rocky point, which sheltered it and a wide bay from the easterly winds. A splendid stretch of golden sands offered a playground for the racing waves, and an old tower crowned an islet near the opposite point of the land, which there lay low, and was covered with gorse and heather.
There was an objectionable row of lodging-houses, against which must be entered a low, red-brick, ivy-grown inn, old-fashioned, picturesque, and comfortable. One or two villas stood in their own grounds but were occupied, and one, evidently older was shut up.
Perhaps because it was inaccessible, perhaps because it had a pleasant outlook across the bay to the island and tower at its western extremity, Katherine at once determined it was the very place to suit them, and made her way to the local house agent to see what could be done toward securing it. Cliff Cottage was not on his books, said the agent; but if the lady wished "he would apply to the owner, who had gone with his wife in search of health to the Riviera. In the meantime there is Amanda Villa, at the other end of Beach Terrace, very comfortable and elegantly furnished"—pointing to a glaring white edifice with a Belvedere tower in would-be Italian style. "I don't think you could find anything better." But the aspect of Amanda Villa did not please either lady, so they returned to Cliff Cottage: and remarking a thin curl of blue smoke from one of the chimneys, they ventured to make their way to a side entrance, where their knocking was answered by an old deaf caretaker, who, for a consideration, permitted them to inspect the house. It proved to be all Katherine wished. Though the furniture was scanty and worn, it was clean and well kept, and "We can easily get what is necessary," she concluded, with the sense of power which always goes with a full purse.
"Let us go back to the agent and get the address of the owner."
"Better make your offer through him," returned Miss Payne, and Katherine complied.
The days which succeeded seemed very long. Katherine had taken a fancy to the quaint pretty abode, and was impatient to be settled there with her boys. There was a "preparatory school for young gentlemen," which was an additional attraction to Sandbourne, both children being extremely ignorant even for their tender years; and Katherine was greatly opposed to Colonel Ormonde's intention of sending Cecil away to a boarding-school. She wished him to have some preliminary training before he was plunged into the difficulties of a large boarding-school. To Colonel Ormonde her will was law, and if only she could get the house she wanted, all would go well.
Of course Katherine lost no time in visiting her protegee Rachel. She had written to her during her absence to let her feel that she was not forgotten; and the replies were not only well written and expressed, but showed a degree of intelligence above the average.
When Katherine entered the room where Rachel sat at work she was touched and delighted at the sudden brightening of Rachel's sunken eyes, the joyous flush that rose to her cheek.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I did not expect you so soon. How good of you to come!" She placed a chair, and in reply to Katherine's friendly question, "How have you been going on?" Rachel gave an encouraging account of herself. Mrs. Needham had introduced her to two families, both of whom wished her to work in the house, which, though infinitely disagreeable to her, she did not like to refuse.
"Perhaps," she added, "the counter-irritation was good for me, for I feel more braced up. And of all your many benefits, dear Miss Liddell, nothing has done me so much good as the books you sent me, except the sight of yourself. Do not think I am exaggerating, but I am a mere machine, resigned to work because I must not die, save when I see you and speak to you; then I feel I can live—that I have something to live for, to show I am not unworthy of your trust in me. Perhaps time will heal even such wounds as mine. Is it not terrible to try and live without hope?"
"But you must hope, Rachel. You are not alone. I feel truly, deeply interested in you; believe me, I will always be your friend. You are looking better, but I want to see your eyes less hollow and your mouth less sad. We are both young, and life has many lights and shades for us both, so far as we can anticipate."
A long and confidential conversation ensued, in the course of which Katherine quite forgot there was any difference of position between herself and the humble dressmaker whom her bounty of purse and heart had restored.