Niece Catherine Part 11

'Why, what sudden nonsense is this, my pet?' was the amused question.

'I was watching you. Does Mr. North love you very, _very_ much? He ought to.'

Blushes stole over the face that had been praised.

'He loves me a great deal more than I deserve.'

'I made guardian tell me all you told him. You don't mind my knowing, do you?'

'Of course not. It will be nice to be able to talk and write of him to you, little one, for there was no one to sympathise with my romance until I found you and Uncle Jack.... Brian _may_ come down to see me to-morrow, but I am trying not to hope too much, or else I shall feel dismal if a disappointment follows. Still, he hasn't telegraphed yet, nor written for two whole days, so I think he must be coming.'

'If he does, you will bring him here?' asked Agatha excitedly.

Catherine nodded.

'I am simply longing to show him to Uncle Jack; they are sure to love one another. In the afternoon I have agreed to go to see Uncle Ross, and to take Brian with me, if possible.... Now, Agatha! What a dreadful frown!'

'It's gone, now, and I know you are quite right and wise, Cath. Please go on with what you were going to say.'

'But I shall insist upon leaving Carm Hall in time to spend the evening here. I shall say you have invited me to supper. That will be true, won't it?'

'Yes, yes, and Harriet shall lay the cloth and make the table look very nice, before she goes out for her "evening." Ah, Cath, you have made me happy!'

'G.o.d bless you, darling! He will teach you to be a great deal happier yet, I hope.'

When the colonel returned from his work at the club he heard Agatha's laughter resounding through the cottage,--a sound that was strange indeed. The girls were neither of them in the least tired of their _tete-a-tete_, yet they gladly welcomed him and soon the three were chatting as gaily as two had done.

Before Catherine went home she shared in the evening prayer at Redan Cottage, and heard the colonel's voice falter as he offered up one special pet.i.tion for the 'welfare, spiritual and temporal, of all relatives and friends.'

No wonder that the girl's heart was filled with rejoicing as she walked back to Woodley Villa! She had been able to comfort poor little Agatha, and had persuaded her to serve G.o.d. And there was still plenty of work to be done, a beautiful reconciliation to effect, if G.o.d would give her grace and aid sufficient.

Not for an instant did she count up the gains that might accrue to herself from this peace-making. Her intentions were pure and unselfish.

Little world-loving Mrs. Arderne would have marvelled again, had she been able to read her companion's heart to-night.

CHAPTER VIII

The Coming of Catherine's Betrothed

By ten o'clock on Monday morning Brian North had earned a holiday. He had been up and working since the small hours, but instead of going back to his lodgings to rest, he hurried to a station and took train for Beverbridge. Catherine's letter had been brought to him, and had made a precious interlude to his occupation. Generally he was as busy in the evening as in the morning, but his other occupation had been taken away from him,--a loss which he was obliged to regret, although it had obtained him an opportunity for a few days' holiday in the neighbourhood of Catherine Carmichael.

Had she been in London, Brian would have remained there, too; so when the landscape began to be green, and the buildings few, and the sky showed a clear expanse above, his spirits revived with his grat.i.tude for the fact that his dear girl was in the country. The fresh pure air strengthened him already.

Beverbridge was a long journey from town, but he found time pa.s.s pleasantly, as he leaned back close to the open window, and let his thoughts rove over the subject of Catherine's perfections. There would be need to ponder over the question how to gain some new work, how secure a prize in an overcrowded amphitheatre, since his marriage would be delayed until he could earn not only a sufficient income to provide a home, but also a small sum 'laid by' as provision for 'rainy days.'

Brian was resolved not to persuade Catherine to make an improvident marriage; he had seen much misery resulting from such folly, and his love for her was deep enough to make his plans unselfish.

There was a smile on his lips as he sat thinking, alone in the railway carriage--the smile which thoughts of Catherine always created. Tired, disappointed, hara.s.sed though he was, his life was blessed by a great happiness, and but for the fear of being guilty of hypocrisy, he would have thanked G.o.d for it.

These were the doubts which prompted the fear: 'Was he not supposed to be resigned to any possible manifestation of G.o.d's will? Without this resignation would not grat.i.tude be guilty of mockery, since the Creator possessed undoubtedly the right to take, as well as to give? How could he honestly thank G.o.d for the gift of Catherine, if he were not prepared also to acknowledge G.o.d's right to take Catherine from him?

It may be thought that Brian was too sincere with himself in this matter. The girl he loved was strong and healthy, and likely, humanly speaking, to live to a good old age. But he was essentially thorough, and now that he was groping after the light, he was anxious to invite it to s.h.i.+ne into every corner of his heart. He had already perceived that religion must be all or nothing, a sham or a whole, so that he could not rest content with any reservations.

If he was to love G.o.d, then to the Creator must be given more love than to the creature. Human tenderness and sympathy do not enter into the devotion that a soul must cherish for its Maker. He was not so foolish as to expect to feel the same impulses of longing for a vision of G.o.d, for instance, as it was natural for him to feel for the presence of Catherine; but he was not able yet to give the love which is commanded, the perfect acknowledgment of G.o.d as Author of all good, the resignation of praying 'Thy will be done,' of owning 'Thy will must be best,' and the confidence of leaving the future entirely, gladly, in G.o.d's care.

Brian often worried about the future. His health suffered from the feverish manner in which he pursued Fortune--all for Catherine's sake.

As a youth he had fretted for fame; now he spent his life in restlessly striving after money and a secured position.

His pale, lined face, the grey hairs threading the dark curls over his temples, and his sunken eager eyes, proclaimed his want of peace.

There was no one but a porter in the little Beverbridge station when Brian arrived. Just as he was calling the man to take charge of his bag, and to direct him to a respectable inn, he chanced to look up at the bridge which spanned the rail. A tall girl standing, holding a little boy in her arms--Catherine herself!

Lovers' eyes are seldom deceived in such cases. Catherine, out for a walk with Ted and Toddie, had brought them within the precincts of the railway, not only because the small folks delighted in the sight of 'a big puffing engine,' but also because there was a possibility that Brian might come down to-day by the London express.

Her beaming smile as she gazed down at him over the parapet of the bridge was the cause of sympathetic beams upon his face.

'That gentleman is--a great friend of mine, Ted and Toddie!' she cried exultantly.

'How nice!' said Ted. 'He _must_ be nice if _you_ like him, Carr.'

'He's comin' up. Oh, poor, poor man! Is he ill, Carr?'

'No, dears, only hard-worked; and he lives in smoky dark London.'

By this time Brian had mounted the steps and emerged through the doorway on to the bridge.

Catherine had put down the child, so she put both her hands into Brian's, and so they stood for a few minutes, smiling, silent, looking into one another's eyes, in delicious contentment at having met once more.

Then the woman's practical mind read the significance of the presence of a bag.

'You are come, and you haven't got to go away again yet!'

'I may spend three days in Beverbridge, dear.'

'G.o.d is good!' was Catherine's simple answer.

'_I'm_ Ted Arderne,' announced a little voice.

'And I'm Toddie,' said another.

Brian responded warmly to the children's greeting, gave Ted his umbrella to play with, and made Toddie laugh at the energy with which he shouldered his bag. Together they went along the quiet country road and through the pretty village, Brian delighting in the autumnal crispness of the wind and in the beauty of the unpretentious scenery.

'Did you expect me, Catherine?' he asked.

'I only hoped for you.'