In pity for Ralph's loneliness, he was invited to stay the night at the Hall. It would be too sad, Kathleen said, for the lonely boy to go back from all the brightness there to the dead quiet of Monk's How.
The boy enjoyed his visit to the full, but Kathleen noticed that he avoided Hetty Stapleton in a determined fashion.
"Don't you know Miss Stapleton?" she asked. "She is such a favourite with all the young people in the neighbourhood. Or have you and she quarrelled?"
The boy's face crimsoned as he answered, "Of course I know Miss Stapleton. Everybody does at Hollingsby. We haven't quarrelled, only I don't think we are friends."
"How is that, Ralph? She has surely not been unkind to you. If so, I must take her to task."
"Please don't say a word, Miss Mountford!" pleaded Ralph, earnestly. "Miss Stapleton always tries to be kind to me. She has wanted to give me things, and has asked me to ride with her, and—" Ralph paused, though he could have given Kathleen a long list of offered kindnesses which he had curtly rejected.
"And you would not accept the things, or join in the rides, eh, Ralph? What can Hetty have done to offend you?"
"Nothing to me, only I know father doesn't like her, and she doesn't like him now, though I think they were friends once. I heard Sarah say so. You see, Miss Mountford, I couldn't take presents or go riding with a lady if father was not friends with her, could I? You'll be sure not to tell Miss Stapleton or anybody why I refused, because Sarah was saying that to the cook one day, and she didn't know that I heard her."
Kathleen promised to respect Ralph's confidence, then said, "But you go out with me."
"That is different. I know father likes me to be with you. He said one day, that there was no lady in the world he admired so much as he did you, and there had only been one so good before, and that was my mother."
Seldom had Kathleen been so glad of an interruption as she was at that moment. Her attention was called from Ralph by Hetty Stapleton herself, and so no response was needed. But the boy's words—the echo of his father's—were not forgotten.
It seemed that Captain Torrance was in no hurry to return to Monk's How. He came there occasionally, but made no long stay, and took no advantage of the relations between Miss Mountford and Ralph. His visits to Hollingsby were purely business ones, and that he might see the boy and make arrangements for his comfort and the supply of his wants. He sent Kathleen a few lines expressive of his gratitude for her goodness to Ralph, and said that she had poured brightness into his young life and influenced him for good, a work worthy of one so pure and noble as herself. He prayed her to continue her kindness to the lad, as he, of necessity, must be much absent from home, and told her that whilst he could never repay her, he well knew that such a nature as hers would find its reward in the fact that she was helping others, above all, a motherless boy.
Always Captain Torrance harped on this string, and always too he awoke a responsive chord in Kathleen's breast. She sent him a few lines in reply, told of her affection for the bright boy, and promised to do all in her power for his happiness and benefit.
"Ralph has brightened our quiet life here," she wrote, "and we should all miss him, were he long absent." That was all; but it satisfied Captain Torrance. He did not even call at the Hall, and only on a single occasion did Kathleen exchange a few words with him out-of-doors. This was when winter festivities, such as are usual in country houses, had come to an end. The young leaves were showing on the trees and the song of birds was heard in the land, telling everywhere of new life—the glorious awakening of the world after the deadness of winter.
The country roads were dry, and riding was most enjoyable in the bright sunshine and with lengthening days; for April had proved agreeably false to her character, and was more inclined for smiles than tears.
Kathleen and Ralph were out riding together on Polly and the Kelpie. Miss Mountford was otherwise unattended. After a brisk canter they were riding quietly homeward, when Captain Torrance came in sight. He had arrived at Monk's How quite unexpectedly during Ralph's absence. Naturally, the boy was wild with delight on seeing his father, and equally naturally, the latter exchanged a cordial greeting with Kathleen, and made use of the opportunity to repeat the thanks he had previously written. But the tone and looks of the speaker were far more eloquent than written words could be, however well considered, and Kathleen listened with undisguised pleasure.
"You have given me far more credit than I deserve," she said. "Ours is not a one-sided affection, is it, Ralph? You are my friend as I am yours. My cavalier too, and very much we enjoy our rides together. The Kelpie and Polly are well used to be companions now."
Of course Ralph was proud of his post, of his steed, and above all, of being called Kathleen's friend; and though he could not put his feelings into words, he said enough to make her laugh and blush at his childish compliments. Just at this moment, when Captain Torrance was standing listening to his boy, looking towards Miss Mountford and patting Polly's neck in a caressing fashion, Hetty Stapleton came in sight.
It seemed to Kathleen that the wrong persons always had appeared on the scene, if by the merest chance she was exchanging a few unimportant words with Captain Torrance. She had long since guessed that Hetty had no good will towards him, and Ralph's innocent confidences had convinced her that the feeling was mutual. She thought highly of Hetty, but was hardly likely to part abruptly with Ralph's father, with whom she had not exchanged a word for months. So she made no attempt to ride on until Hetty had passed by; but she could not fail to see that Captain Jack's elaborate bow received the slightest possible recognition, and that the girl's face wore an expression of grave regret as she returned her own greeting. Captain Jack gave a half-comical, half-rueful look at Kathleen, as he said—
"We were friends once, and now Miss Stapleton seems doubtful whether she has seen me before or not."
Ever loyal to those whom she professed to like, Kathleen replied, "I have always thought Hetty's friendship well worth winning and keeping. I value it greatly."
"And so it is. Friendship that deserves the name always is. But in Miss Stapleton's case and mine, it happened it was difficult to—"
The speaker hesitated, laughed, uttered an irrelevant word, and then said, "Something happened which I cannot speak about. If it were my own affair, I should be only too happy if you would listen whilst I told you what estranged us."
A meaning look conveyed an impression to Kathleen's mind, and from that moment she believed that Hetty's friendship had ripened into a stronger attachment for John Torrance, and that it had not been reciprocated, hence the friendship had come to an untimely end.
She could never have told how she was led to this conclusion; a mistaken one, for in Hetty's case friendship was far too strong a term to use as regarded her acquaintance with this man.
He had sought her society for the sake of her fortune, as we already know, and though the world was no wiser as to what had occurred through Hetty's telling, John Torrance could never pardon her for having rejected him, and she knew this.
"You will like to go home with your father, Ralph," said Kathleen after this. "I am sure he will want you, especially as he is leaving you again so soon."
"I must take you home first, Miss Mountford," replied Ralph. "I ought to, you know. A gentleman always sees the lady home. Father won't mind."
"I should mind very much if you forgot yourself so far as to allow Miss Mountford to ride home alone," said his father, with becoming gravity.
"I knew you'd say so, father. I'll be at home as soon as you are."
Away went the riders, and homeward walked John Torrance, well satisfied with the success of his plans. He had purposely absented himself, to allow Ralph to obtain a firm foothold under Miss Mountford's roof, and he had no intention of staying at Monk's How for long together, until the time drew near when Kathleen's fortune would be in her own hands. Ralph would be his best advocate, and he regularly told the boy many things which he wished her to know, but warned him not to repeat them to Sarah or to any of the people about.
"I trust you, dear boy," he would say. "I have only you."
"I may tell Miss Mountford things, mayn't I?" asked Ralph. "She's so kind, you know, and I'm certain she's sorry for you, and for me being all by myself."
"Tell Miss Mountford what you like, Ralph. No fear of her telling your secrets or mine. It is hard on you, my boy, for the house is very quiet now."
"I don't mind if it's best for you. I missed the horses at first, but you see Miss Mountford lets me go and see hers, and I have the Kelpie."
Then Ralph told his father of his talk with Miss Mountford about his pet, and her promise that if the pony were sold, she would buy him.
It was a long time since John Torrance had been moved as he was at this story. He had parted with all his horses, except his favourite hunter and the Kelpie, and had reduced his establishment at Monk's How as far as possible. Absence gave him a good excuse for this. But it would have cost the man a great pang to deprive Ralph of his pony, and Kathleen's promise to the boy touched his heart. Spendthrift, bankrupt, schemer as he was, ashamed of his past, and hopeless as to his future unless he could win this girl and her fortune, he was almost ready to give up his pursuit of them.
"She is far too good to be linked for life with such a man as I am," he thought. "I am half inclined to go to her, to tell her all, and to ask her to take my boy and make of him a better man than his father. Matheson would help her, and I would pledge myself to go away and never again to reclaim Ralph, or intrude on her presence. Ralph would feel the loss of me for a time, but he would get over it under her roof and guardianship."
It was too late to carry out such a resolution that night. Captain Torrance slept upon it, and with the coming of morning saw matters in a different light.
"When I do honestly love Kathleen, and would marry her without a penny, if I had money of my own, I cannot be counted a mere mercenary suitor."
"As to going away, where can I go with the hope of helping myself without money? I dare say Matheson would lend me some, as he has done before, or give it, for that matter. Well he might, for it would leave the coast clear for him; but would Miss Mountford herself thank me for doing this?"
Captain Jack decided that she would not, felt sure that Kathleen cared more for himself than for Matheson, and that Ralph would break his heart if deprived of the sight of his father.
So, a couple of days later, Monk's How was again left to Ralph and the servants, but the boy went to Miss Mountford to be comforted.
"It's horridly lonely, worse than ever, when I've had father for a little while," he said, as he walked in the grounds hanging on Kathleen's arm. "But I don't mind so much as I did; father is doing it for the best. He told me so. And I know now why he didn't stay at home at Christmas. Father used to ask a lot of men to come that he had known for a long while. Some of them were not very nice. They drank a great deal of wine and stuff, and were noisy, and said—"
"Hush, Ralph! you must not tell me these things," said Kathleen; "your father would not like it."
"Yes, he would. He told me I might say anything to you, for I must have somebody to talk to, and the servants gossip, you know. Well, you may guess what the men did when there was no lady in the house. It was just for want of mother. The nice people go where there are mothers, father says. Well, this last Christmas he stayed away from home, so that the men who had been used to be here could not come, and he says he will never have such about him any more. He wants to be a real good man, for my sake, and somebody else's. He didn't say who else. Do you know, Miss Mountford?"
"How can I tell, Ralph? Your father never spoke to me about such things."
"Of course not. I wonder if it is for your sake, so as he may be more like you, because you know what he said about you being the best—"
Kathleen put her hand on the boy's lips, exclaiming, "I must really stop you by force, your tongue runs so fast, Ralph, and you are such a flatterer. You will do me harm. I shall think too much of myself."
"I'm sorry if I've vexed you," said Ralph, penitently.
"I am not angry, dear," said Kathleen; and she kissed the boy's upturned face in token of this.
The sound of the luncheon bell summoned them to the house, and put an end to the conversation and to further revelations on Ralph's part, for the time.
Many similar talks followed, and Kathleen ceased to check the boy when he began them. He always brought his father's letters, and read the greater part of them to her. Often there were messages of grateful thanks to Kathleen herself, which Ralph was particularly proud to repeat to her.
Through this innocent medium, John Torrance contrived to keep in constant touch with Miss Mountford. His carefully-worded letters might have been addressed to her for by means of them she was brought to sympathize with him in his new and noble aspirations after a higher and better life.
Thus far, however, John Torrance had not gone beyond aspirations. The life itself was in the future. His present one was modelled on the old lines. He was only going to change when, as Kathleen's husband, he should settle down afresh to domesticity in the country, with plenty of money to make it endurable.
It was true that he had kept away from Monk's How at Christmas to avoid inviting a number of guests, but this was only half the truth. The other half was, that he wished to stand better with his neighbours, especially Kathleen, and that he was unable to entertain his old associates with the reckless extravagance to which they had been accustomed—not that their company would have been distasteful to him.
At present, John Torrance was whiling away the time as best he could, accepting invitations when they offered, moving about from place to place, and solacing himself for temporary discomfort by looking forward to extra indulgences in the future.
