Then Kathleen told Aylmer exactly what had passed between Captain Torrance and herself as they met him in the morning, and what had given rise to the laugh which had so pained him at the time.
"I was a little wilful, as usual, but I told Captain Torrance, what I would say to all the world about you, Aylmer, that you are my guardian and my good, true friend, not my jailer."
"You make me very happy by saying this."
"How could I speak otherwise of you? Besides, I never can bear to hear people run down behind their backs, much less those I—I—care a great deal about. I felt like this, though not in the same way, of course, when aunty, after reading that letter, would not say a single kind word for the man who had written it. Not like you, Aylmer. You can be just to people who are not at all perfect."
"Thank you again, Kathleen. Your opinion of my justice is very comprehensive. It takes in all the world, for who is perfect?"
"That is just what I so often ask myself, by way of gaining comfort from the thought. It seems almost treason to say this, Aylmer, but don't you sometimes find that very good people, like aunty, for instance, are just a little hard on those who are exposed to far greater temptations than themselves? It ought to be easier to do right when every one is anxious to help you. Stay, though, I should not say that," added Kathleen, before Aylmer had time to speak. "Every one wants to help me, yet I try, and fail again and again. I failed this morning. I was horribly angry and rude, because I thought aunty was very unjust to poor Captain Torrance. She will not believe there is a bit of good in him. So I got into a temper, said disagreeable things, then ran upstairs and shut myself in my room, and cried till I fell asleep, like a cross child tired with its own passion. I punished myself, for Hetty came, and I had been longing to see her, and I missed seeing you, though as you came this evening, that has made up for it."
"And shall I add what you have not told me? You were honestly sorry for having grieved your aunt, and did your best to make amends. I knew by both your faces that there had been a little storm, but peace-making and sunshine had followed. And you made good resolutions, I doubt not. I pray, with all my heart, that you may have God's blessing upon them, and His strength to enable you to keep them, Kathleen."
When he was taking leave at a later hour than usual, Kathleen said—
"It was good of you to come to-night, Aylmer, and how quickly the time has flown! But for your kindness in walking here for the third time to-day, I should have spent much of the evening alone. Geraldine wanted only quiet, so I could be of no use to her. Aunt has had calls, as usual, for somebody is always coming with a tale of trouble which she only can relieve. Fancy what my feelings would have been, for I do not care for too much of my own society."
"I cannot fancy yours, Kathleen. I know that I could not have too much of your society, though I, too, weary of my own often enough."
Kathleen laughed and blushed at the compliment. But she did not dislike it, and when her "grave, wise guardian," for the first time since he had held that office, lifted her shapely hand to his lips, before he said good night, she only thought to herself, "He is growing more like what he was in the old days. How good he was to me when I was quite a little creature, and he was so tall and strong! To think that, when I was eight, he carried me on his shoulder, and when my mother died, only my father seemed more to me than Aylmer was. I sometimes wish he had never been my guardian, for the idea of having to take care of me made him ever so much older. I have been a great trouble both to him and aunty, but I hope I shall repay them yet. I wish Aylmer were my real brother."
A wish which the subject of it would certainly not have echoed.
Kathleen went to Geraldine's room after Aylmer left the house, and found her cousin much better.
"Nearly well, Kitty," she said, in answer to loving inquiries. "The rest has done so much for me, and a quiet night will complete the cure."
"Not sufficiently so to allow of your driving with me to Mellingham, I am afraid, so I shall put off going. I can send a telegram to Miss Pritchard, to say I will be there a day later, instead of to-morrow."
"Don't do that, Kitty. It would be certain to inconvenience her, by upsetting her arrangements for the week. You know how particular you are in expecting that she will keep her promises about the delivery of articles ordered by you, and surely it is fair that we should keep our engagements."
"In a way it is; but of course Miss Pritchard will have plenty of other work. It will only mean finishing some one else's gown instead of mine, and if she is as much pressed with orders as she usually professes to be, the change may help her. You know my dresses are never a success, unless you are with me at the choosing and fitting of them."
"I think I shall be well enough to go with you. At any rate, do not send the telegram until I know," said Ger. "I am going to sleep as soon as possible now, and mean to 'pay attention to it,' as my old nurse used to say children ought always to do."
Kathleen went to her room in an unusually happy frame of mind, at peace with all the world.
After the excitement of the morning and afternoon, the calm that followed had been very welcome. Aylmer had been delightful, as a whole. If he had uttered one sharp sentence, what did it matter? It only made him seem more akin to Kathleen herself, since she was always saying sharp things, and being sorry afterwards. "If only I were half as good as Aylmer!" she thought. Then the girl asked herself whether the greater self-restraint she had been enabled to exercise could have resulted from that longing cry for help which had gone from her heart to God, after the talk with Mrs. Ellicott? Could this sense of peace within, and of love and goodwill to all around her, be another result of her pleading "in real earnest," though only that once? If so, she must go again and again, and in the same spirit.
Kathleen was deeply sensible of the difference between her ordinary prayers, and the cry which went up from her very soul that day. It was a new experience and a sweet one, and it led her to think how vast, how far-reaching must be the Divine love which had been waiting to bless, to pardon, and to cheer her, as soon as these mercies were asked for, because they were really wanted.
The following morning proved bright and pleasant. Geraldine came down to breakfast, with no trace of illness, except that she was paler than usual, and professed herself ready to share Kathleen's drive and shopping expedition.
"I hope you are not going without feeling fit for the journey, Ger," said Kathleen. "It would be so easy to send a telegram."
"I am really fit. I shall enjoy the drive, which involves no fatigue, and I shall have the further satisfaction of seeing all the pretty winter things, without feeling it my duty to spend money which I cannot spare at present."
"Sometimes I wonder what you do with your money, Ger, for though you are beautifully dressed and look far better than I do, you spend much less."
Geraldine laughed, and replied, "You do not know my special extravagances, Kitty. I have several, but I conceal them, that you may not be influenced by my spendthrift tastes. Believe me, dear, I am not hoarding. In fact, I am on the verge of bankruptcy, and counting how long it will be before quarter-day will replenish my purse."
"I'll lend you some when we get to Mellingham."
"I will not borrow, Kitty. The debt would be a debt all the same, if even you were my creditor;" and Geraldine left the room to prepare for her drive.
Mrs. Ellicott remained at home to write letters. Kathleen was ready first, and, as usual, went to the door as soon as she heard the sound of the horses' feet on the gravel, that she might pet the pretty animals, and give each some lumps of sugar. She spoke to Mountain, and praised the horses, but obtained only the shortest answers, consistent with the respect due from him to his young mistress.
"Are you not well this morning, Mountain?" asked Kitty.
"Yes, Miss Kathleen, I'm well enough."
"Has some one been vexing you, or is anybody ill at home? I had not heard of anything amiss."
"My people are well enough, miss, thank you for asking. Maybe I am vexed, but I shall have to get pleased again, for them that has grieved me aren't likely to put themselves out, whether I'm right side out or wrong."
Mountain's face assumed the most stolid appearance imaginable, and Kathleen thought, "Poor old Mountain! I wish I knew what is amiss. I hope he is not angry that William Burns is courting his daughter, Patty. He is a worthy young fellow, and would make her a good husband. I'll try to smooth matters."
How was Kathleen to know that, to use Mountain's own words, he was "just breaking his heart over his young mistress, and wishing he could run over that harum-scarum captain, by accident, of course, if by so doing he could get rid of him without hurting his own horses."
As coachman, Mountain always called the steeds he controlled "my horses," and he had a proper professional pride in them, and did not like them to be used for what he called "dirty work" of any kind. He would have deemed it an indignity to allow one of the handsome pair that "hadn't their match within twenty mile," to run single in a dog-cart, for instance. But he did not seem to think that it would be derogatory to use them as a means of getting rid of Captain Jack. Not that Mountain would have liked "to finish him outright," but to inflict such personal damage as would spoil his looks, and keep him a prisoner until Miss Kathleen was furnished with a husband of whom he could approve. And Mountain further thought it was a great pity he could not tell Miss Kathleen that she was the cause of his vexation, and that by evening herself with Captain Torrance, she was as deep in the "black books" of Hollingsby people generally, as it was possible for the much-loved young lady of the Hall to have placed herself.
It was well that Kathleen did not associate Mountain's grievances with herself, or it might have spoiled her drive. She was of too affectionate a nature to be indifferent to the goodwill of any person, however humble, and it would have troubled her to know that Hollingsby folk, and her faithful servants in particular, were "worritting" on her account, because of that walk in broad day with Captain Torrance, who had been judged and condemned as not worthy to black her shoes.
CHAPTER XII WORDS IN SEASON
WHEN the girls reached Mellingham after a pleasant drive, Geraldine's face was tinged with colour, and she looked almost her usual self.
"I am glad you brought me out, Kitty," she said. "I am quite ready to make a study of materials and styles on your account, and hope I shall not feel too envious when I see you wearing the results of it."
"No fear of that, Ger, or whilst you were planning for me, you would make arrangements for yourself."
"Don't you know that one of the first lessons my mother taught me, was to study what I could do without?"
"You do without too many things, Ger, and you will not allow anybody else to fill up blank spaces in your wardrobe."
"My dear Kitty, there are none. It is too full, and its contents are going to be thinned to-morrow."
"Just like you. The question in your mind is not whether you need all your garments, but whether some one else is in greater need of them. So they go before you have really done with them."
"Not before I can well spare them, though every article has its destination fixed in advance. And when one has an affection for a garment, despite its age and fashion, it is sometimes a trial to part with it a little earlier than one intended, because of the shabbiness of a pensioner's best gown."
"I believe you choose your own dresses largely with a view to their second-hand usefulness, Ger," said Kathleen. "I am afraid I could not do that. I am too anxious about my own personal appearance, to trouble myself as to what the effect of my garments will be on their next wearer. I would rather buy new ones of homelier stuff, for those who are in want of them."
Geraldine laughed, and replied, "You give me more credit than I deserve, Kitty. I think quite enough of my own wants and looks. Please to remember the compliment you paid me only last night."
"It was a true one. You are always beautifully dressed, and at a far less expense than myself."
"You know how fastidious I am as to the quality of my materials, so, being good, they stand more wear, and do substantial service second-hand."
At this moment the carriage stopped in front of the principal silk mercer's in Mellingham, and soon Kathleen, assisted by Geraldine and the principal dressmaker, Miss Pritchard, was busily engaged in choosing materials for evening dresses. Then styles had to be decided upon, and a previously ordered walking-gown fitted.
Miss Pritchard was looking pale and weary, and Geraldine said, "I am afraid you are very tired to-day."
"I am, rather. We had an unexpected press of business on Monday, and more work has been promised for this week than can well be got through."
"And you, being at the head of this department, will no doubt feel the responsibility a heavy one."
"Naturally I do; but those who are under me feel it equally, though in another way. But please do not think that I am complaining. My employers have their anxieties also."
"Undoubtedly they have," replied Geraldine, struck with the patient dignity of the young modiste, whose refined manners had struck her when they first met. "I hope you received the message I sent you a few days since," she added.
"I received no message," replied Miss Pritchard. "Was is about the dress I re-trimmed for you? I hoped it would please you, though, owing to a difficulty in matching the material, I was unable to carry out your instructions exactly."
"You made it look far prettier than I could have thought possible," said Geraldine. "The style is perfect, and I was very anxious you should know I was pleased with it, so I called and left a message with one of the assistants to that effect. He promised to deliver it at once."
