A Crooked Path Part 35

"My dear 'Duke!--such a morning as this! Do you think I would let the precious child out?"

"Nonsense! Do not make a molly-coddle of him. He is as strong as a horse. Send for him anyway. I haven't seen him this morning. And be sure you write a proper letter to Katherine Liddell; you had better let me see it before it goes."

"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind. Do you think I never wrote a letter in my life before I knew you?"

"Oh, go your own way," retorted the Colonel, beating a retreat to save a total rout.

In due course Katherine received an effusive letter of thanks, and a pressing invitation to come down to Castleford on the following Monday, and saying that as the hunting season was almost over, they would be very quiet till after Easter, when Mrs. Ormonde was going to town for a couple of months, ending with an a.s.surance that the dear boys were dying to see her, and that Colonel Ormonde was going to London for the express purpose of escorting her on her journey.

"It is certainly not necessary," observed Katherine, with a smile, "considering how accustomed I am to take care of myself. Still it is kindly meant, and I shall accept the offer." This to Miss Payne, as they rose from luncheon where Katherine had told her the contents of her letter.

"Ahem! No doubt they are anxious to show you every attention. Would you like to take Turner with you? I could spare her very well." Turner was the maid expressly engaged to wait upon Miss Liddell.

"Oh no, thank you, I want so little waiting on. Lady Alice Mordaunt will be with Mrs. Ormonde, and will be sure to have a maid, so another might be inconvenient."

"My dear Miss Liddell, if you will excuse me for thrusting advice upon you, I would say that 'considering' people is the very best way to prevent their showing you consideration."

"Do you really think so? Well, it is really no great matter."

"Then you shall not want Turner? Then I shall give her a holiday. Her mother or her brother is ill, and she wants to go home. Servants'

relations always seem to be ill. It must cost them a good deal."

"No doubt. Will you come out with me? I have some shopping to do, and your advice is always valuable."

"I shall be very pleased, and I will say I shall miss you when you leave--miss you very much."

"Thank you," said Katherine, gently. "I believe you will as you say so."

Without fully believing Ada's rather exaggerated expressions of grat.i.tude and affection, Katherine was soothed and pleased by them. She was so truthful herself that she was disposed to trust others, and the hearty welcome offered her took off from the sense of loneliness which had long oppressed her. Hers was too healthy a nature to encourage morbid grief. To the last day of her life she remembered her mother with tender, loving-regret; but the consolation of knowing that her later days had been so happy, that she had pa.s.sed away so peacefully, did much toward healing the wounds which were still bleeding.

On the appointed Monday Colonel Ormonde made his appearance in the early afternoon, and found Katherine quite ready to start. He was stouter, louder, bluffer, than ever. When Miss Payne was introduced to him he honored her with an almost imperceptible bow and a very perceptible stare. Turning at once to Katherine, he exclaimed:

"What! in complete marching order already? I protest I never knew a woman punctual before. But I always saw you were a sensible girl. No nonsense about you. Why, my wife told me you were looking ill. I don't see it. At any rate Castleford air will soon bring back your roses."

"I am feeling and looking better than when I came over, and Miss Payne has taken such good care of me," said Katherine, who did not like to see the lady of the house so completely over-looked.

"Ah! that's well. You know you are too precious a piece of goods to be tampered with. I believe Bertie Payne is a nephew of yours," he added, addressing Miss Payne--"a young fellow who was in my regiment three or four years ago, the Twenty-first Dragoon Guards?"

"He is my brother," returned Miss Payne, stiffly.

"Ah! Hope he is all right. Have scarcely seen him since he has gone, not to the dogs, but to the saints, which is much the same thing. Ha! ha!

ha!"

"Indeed it is not, Colonel Ormonde!" cried Katherine. "If every one was as good as Mr. Payne, the world would be a different and a better place."

"Hey! Have you const.i.tuted yourself his champion? Lucky dog! Come, my dear girl, we must be going. Are you well wrapped up? It is deuced cold, and we have nearly three miles to drive from the station."

He himself looked liked a mountain in a huge fur-lined coat.

"Good-by, then, dear Miss Payne. I suppose I shall not see you again for a fortnight or three weeks."

"By George! we sha'n't let you off with so short a visit as that! Say three years. Come, march; we haven't too much time." Throwing a brief "good-morning" at the "old maid" of uncertain position, the Colonel walked heavily downstairs in the wake of his admired young guest.

Monckton was scarcely four hours from London, but when the drive to Castleford was accomplished there was not too much time left to dress for dinner.

Mrs. Ormonde was awaiting Katherine in the hall, which was bright with lamps and fire-light; behind her were her two boys.

When Katherine had been duly welcomed. Mrs. Ormonde stood aside, and the children hesitated a moment. Cecil was so much grown, Katherine hardly knew him. He came forward with his natural a.s.surance, and said, confidently: "How d'ye do, auntie? You have been a long time coming."

Charlie was more like what he had been, and less grown. He hesitated a moment, then darted to Katherine, and throwing his arms round her neck, clung to her lovingly. She was infinitely touched and delighted. How vividly the past came back to her!--the little dusty house at Bayswater, the homely establishment kept afloat by her dear mother's industry, the small study, and the dear weary face a.s.sociated with it. How ardently she held the child to her heart! How thankfully she recognized that here was something to cherish and to live for!

"They may come with me to my room?" she said to her hostess.

"Oh, certainly!--only if you begin that sort of thing you will never be able to get rid of them."

"I will risk it," said Katherine, as she followed Mrs. Ormonde upstairs to a very comfortable room, where a cheerful fire blazed on the hearth.

"I am afraid you find it rather small, but I was obliged to give the best bedroom to Lady Alice--_n.o.blesse oblige_, you know. I am sure you will like her, she is so gentle; I think her father was very glad to let her come, as she can see more of her _fiance_. They are not to be married till the autumn, so--Oh dear! there is the second bell. Cis, run away and tell Madeline to come and help your auntie to dress; and you too, Charlie; you had better go too."

"He may stay and help me to unpack."

"Why did you not bring your maid, dear? It is just like you to leave her behind; but we could have put her up; and you will miss her dreadfully."

"I do not think either of us has been so accustomed to the attentions of a maid as not to be able to do without one," returned Katherine, smiling.

"You know _I_ always had a maid in India," said Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of superiority. "Don't be long over your toilet; Ormonde's cardinal virtue is punctuality."

In spite of the hindrance of her nephew's help, Katherine managed to reach the drawing-room before Lady Alice or the master of the house.

Mrs. Ormonde was talking to an elderly gentleman in clerical attire beside the fireplace, and at some distance a tall, dignified-looking man was reading a newspaper. Mrs. Ormonde was most becomingly dressed in black satin, richly trimmed with lace and jet--a brilliant contrast to Katherine, in thick dull silk and c.r.a.pe, her snowy neck looking all the more softly white for its dark setting: the only relief to her general blackness was the glinting light on her glossy, wavy, chestnut brown hair.

"You have been very quick, dear," said the hostess. "I am going to send you in to dinner," she added, in a low tone, "with Mr. Errington, our neighbor. He is the head of the great house of Errington in Calcutta, and the _fiance_, of Lady Alice; but Colonel Ormonde must take her in.

Mr. Errington!" raising her voice. The gentleman thus summoned laid down his paper and came forward. "Let me introduce you to my sister, Miss Liddell." Mr. Errington bowed, rather a stately bow, as he gazed with surprised interest at the large soft eyes suddenly raised to his, then quickly averted, the swift blush which swept over the speaking face turned toward him, the indescribable shrinking of the graceful figure, as if this stranger dreaded and would fain avoid him. It was but for a moment; then she was herself again, and the door opening to admit Lady Alice, Errington hastened to greet her with chivalrous respect, and remained beside her chair until Colonel Ormonde entered with the butler, who announced that dinner was ready.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE TOILS.

The drawing and dining rooms at Castleford were at opposite sides of a large square hall, and even in the short transit between them Errington felt instinctively that Miss Liddell shrank from him. The tips merely of her black-gloved fingers rested on his arm, while she kept as far from him as the length of her own permitted. At table her host was on her right, and Lady Alice opposite, next to the rector, who was the only invited guest; Errington was always expected, and had returned from a distant canva.s.sing expedition, for the present member for West Clays.h.i.+re was believed to be on the point of retiring on account of ill health, and Mr. Errington of Garston Hall, intended to offer himself for election to the free and independent.

He had had a fatiguing day, but scarcely admitted to himself how much more restful a solitary dinner would have been, with a cigar and some keen-edged article or luminous pamphlet in his own comfortable library afterward, than making conversation at Colonel Ormonde's table. However, to slight the lady who had promised to be his wife was impossible, so he exerted himself to be agreeable.

The rector discussed some parish difficulties with his hostess, while Colonel Ormonde, though profoundly occupied with his dinner, managed to throw an observation from time to time to his young neighbors.

"Rode round by Brinkworth Heath in two hours and a half," he was saying to Lady Alice, when Katherine listened. "That was fair going. I did not think you would have got Mrs. Ormonde to start without an escort."