So Mrs. Ellicott, Geraldine, and Aylmer Matheson all saw Captain Jack's letter, and the last-named, not being present at the time, was told exactly what answer Kathleen had sent. All were hopeful that the slight intercourse between Monk's How and Hollingsby Hall would become slighter still, and perhaps die away altogether.
Kathleen continued to be very gentle in manner for some time after, and there was a look of thoughtfulness, occasionally of sadness, on her face not usually seen there.
Aylmer Matheson, who was ever most careful not to take advantage of his position as guardian, in order to force himself into his ward's presence with unreasonable frequency, was cheered by the gentle welcome which Kathleen gave him. One evening she called him "Aylmer," for the first time since his father's death, which had made him her sole male trustee. His quick glance of pleasure, as he replied, brought a bright colour to Kathleen's cheek, and this in turn made the young man's heart beat rapidly.
On his homeward way Aylmer began again to picture happy possibilities. He asked himself a thousand questions about Kathleen's changed manner, and wondered if her alternate shyness, coldness, and frankness towards him might, after all, be favourably interpreted.
"A proud girl like Kathleen would never allow any man to think that he was preferred above others," thought he. "One has heard of cases where girls have treated those they loved best almost with scorn, and kept them at the greatest possible distance, lest they should betray their feelings. But this has been when they imagined their affection was not reciprocated. I have kept aloof from Kathleen, for I could not bear that any human being should accuse me of taking advantage of my position. No one shall say that I have striven to entrap my ward into an engagement during her minority. She must be absolutely her own mistress before I make any open attempt to gain her affections, though she can hardly be ignorant of my love for her."
After coming to this conclusion, Aylmer Matheson began to harass himself with doubts as to the wisdom of this mental decision. There was another side to be considered. If he held himself aloof, others would not, and Kathleen might be wooed and won in the meanwhile by some one of whom no true friend of hers could approve. The "some one" always took the face and form of Captain Torrance in Aylmer's cogitations, and whilst he would have been generous enough to resign his own pretensions in favour of a good man to whom Kathleen had given her heart, he was by no means inclined to yield them in favour of Captain Jack.
"I must think of Kathleen's welfare, rather than of my own pride. Surely my character is sufficiently well-known by all for whose good opinion I need care, to prevent me from being misjudged. No one could well accuse me of mercenary motives, since I have abundant means of my own, and Westhill is unencumbered. I would not touch a penny of Kathleen's money. All should remain entirely at her own disposal after marriage, as it will be when she comes of age a year hence. Am I to allow a profligate spendthrift, whose past career will not bear looking into, to win this girl, who is beautiful, innocent, and rich, because I am afraid of what the world might say if I strove to gain her affections whilst she is still my ward?"
The conflict was a severe one, and all through the small hours Aylmer Matheson debated with himself as to the course he ought to adopt. He knew one thing of which the dwellers in the little world around him were in ignorance, and so was Kathleen herself.
When Mr. Mountford had associated him with his father and Mrs. Ellicott in the guardianship of Kathleen, it will be remembered that a conversation took place between the elders as to the possibility of a marriage between Aylmer and his young ward in the distant future. Then Mr. Matheson confidently asserted that to his son, their positions as guardian and ward would prove a barrier to any nearer union, as Aylmer would put aside every thought of self in relation to Kathleen.
Mr. Mountford then expressed his opinion of the young man's worth in the strongest terms, but shortly before his death he said a few words to Aylmer himself.
After again commending Kathleen to his care, he added, "Remember, Aylmer. If when my child is grown-up, you and she desire to enter into the sweetest and closest of all relationships, you must recall our conversation of to-day, and feel assured that had her father been living, his consent and blessing would have been given, and his dearest wish fulfilled by such a union. But I know you, my dear boy, and that you will place Kathleen's happiness before your own. I desire, therefore, that unless you have given her your whole heart and won hers in return, you will never allude to this conversation. Afterwards, if all go well, Kathleen will be the happier for knowing that you would have been the man of all others to whom I would have given my only child, had I lived to see her married."
The memory of these words was most cheering to Aylmer, but they could not be used to further his suit. Indeed, he would have scorned to owe its acceptance to any influence, save that of a whole-hearted love on the part of Kathleen.
Aylmer finally decided to watch and wait for a while, and he was rewarded for his patience by a little season of greater happiness than he had known for a long time past.
It was hardly likely that the effect produced on Kathleen by hearing her mother's story would pass away all at once. The girl seemed to have made a great effort at self-conquest, and, since that memorable evening, had caused Mrs. Ellicott no heart-aches by her fits of wilfulness.
Aylmer spent more time at the Hall, and no face beamed a brighter welcome or gave him a sweeter smile of greeting than did Kathleen's.
Geraldine rejoiced—as only an unselfish nature can rejoice—at the new state of things. She had divined Aylmer's secret, and succeeded in hiding her own.
As to Captain Torrance, nobody seemed to know what had become of him, except that he had left home two days after the meet, and taken his boy with him. Everybody wondered at this, for it was seldom indeed that Captain Jack absented himself from Hollingsby during the hunting-season.
Kathleen never mentioned him, which was, perhaps, a less favourable sign for Aylmer than he took it to be. Aylmer himself might well be forgiven for wishing that the captain's absence would be indefinitely prolonged, though there were a good many others who hoped that he would soon return with a replenished purse.
So the time passed until the first week in and Aylmer spent the interval in a fool's paradise from which he was soon to be rudely ejected.
CHAPTER VII CAPTAIN JACK'S APOLOGY
THE sun was shining gloriously overhead, the sky was blue, the snow hard and crisp underfoot, and of wind there was only enough to give a barely perceptible movement to the topmost twigs of the leafless trees. It was an ideal winter's morning for walking, and as Kathleen Mountford looked on the beautiful picture spread before her windows, she determined to enjoy it more fully out-of-doors.
"It is of no use asking you to walk with me, aunt," she said, addressing Mrs. Ellicott.
"If I were a few years younger, Kitty, there is nothing I should enjoy so much as a long brisk walk with you. But when I do go out with young people, I always feel that I am like a clog to their heels. At my slow pace, I should starve and shiver in the keen air, and the worst of it is a young companion would shiver with me, and be longing all the while to keep up her circulation by movements better befitting her years. I shall nurse the fire to-day, my dear, and battle against the feeling of envy that will intrude into the minds of old folks as they witness the movements of the young."
"It must be hard, aunty, especially when any one has led an actively useful life like yours."
"We ought to remember that we have been young, and I, for one, can thank God as I look back, since He has left me bright memories of a healthy, happy girlhood, free from serious anxieties of any kind. You, Kathleen, are laying up such memories day by day."
"You can hardly say that my girlhood has been all brightness," replied Kathleen, in a low voice, and with a sudden look of gravity on her fair face. "When one has lost both parents years and years before one grew much beyond childhood, there has been sorrow enough to fling a veil over much of its brightness."
"True, darling. But God has left you so many mercies, and you have had no unloved girlhood."
"I know that, aunty. Still, with neither parent, brother, nor sister, the best places in my heart are hopelessly empty, though others are wonderfully filled."
Mrs. Ellicott saw Kathleen's look of affection, as the girl bent to kiss her tenderly, and she was deeply moved. She was very nearly replying—
"The best place of all has yet to be tenanted, and when you bestow your affection on one who is to be the partner of your future life, you will be less sensible of the vacant places which trouble you now;" but she refrained from uttering this thought, and only returned her niece's caress with added tenderness.
Soon Kathleen shook off the momentary sadness, and said—
"I am afraid my walk must be a solitary one, for Geraldine has breakfasted in her room, and is trying to ward off a threatening cold. If I call at Oakwood, and try to coax Hetty Stapleton to join me, she will keep me indoors to listen whilst the trio growl at the frost which has prevented to-day's hunting, or she will take so long to dress that lunch-time will be upon us before we are ready to start. I will e'en go alone, and try to be satisfied for once with the company of Nature."
"You will have beauty enough to interest you, Kitty, if you keep your eyes open to it."
"I am becoming less blind than I was, thanks to you and Ger, who have made me ashamed of myself by the way in which you extort enjoyment from everything. The blades of grass, the simplest wild flowers, the shapes of the trees, the lights and shadows on hill and dale, the changing clouds, or the absence of them, bird, beast, and insect, sights and sounds, all go to make up your enjoyment. It is glorious to be born with such a faculty for extorting pleasure from everything. It is next best to be with those who have it, and who strive to stir up others to share their pleasure, though the taste may be lacking."
"Yours was not lacking, Kitty. It was only dormant, and needed awakening and cultivating."
"Thank you, aunty. Anyway, I shall enjoy my walk this morning without Hetty Stapleton, for I have decided not to call at Oakwood. You knew that Hetty had come to spend the winter with her brother and sister-in-law, did you not?"
"I believe you told me, dear, but I am not sure."
"It was not I, it was Aylmer who mentioned that she was come to stay for some months, when he was with us the other evening. I was glad of the news, for I like Hetty, and have always found her a pleasant companion, though she is five years older than I am."
"I like her too," replied Mrs. Ellicott. "She has plenty of common-sense, and though her face is not a handsome one, it bears on it the stamp of a true nature. I could never imagine Hetty Stapleton capable of littleness or meanness in any shape. I wish she lived at Oakwood, for your sake, Kitty."
"So do I, aunty. Girls, of the sort to make friends of, are few indeed within walking distance of home, and by your own account Hetty would be the perfection of one. Sensible, true, incapable of meanness, and, most important of all, not too handsome, she would leave nothing to be desired," said Kathleen, with an arch look on her face as she alluded to Hetty's personal appearance. "Now I must go, or I shall lose my walk. Take care of yourself, there's a dear."
Away went Kathleen alone, a little to her aunt's regret. Mrs. Ellicott had purposely held her in talk, half hoping that Mr. Matheson would make his appearance and offer to accompany her, as he had spoken of calling during the morning. Perhaps Kathleen would meet him before she passed out of the grounds, and in that case Aylmer would certainly offer his escort.
Mrs. Ellicott went to the window and watched her niece's rapidly-retreating figure until she could see it no longer, then resumed her easy-chair by the fire, where for some time she sat alone and in deep thought.
Though no word had passed between Geraldine and herself respecting Aylmer Matheson's devoted affection for his ward, both had divined it. But Mrs. Ellicott never for a moment dreamed that Aylmer had won the heart of her own daughter, without seeking it. Indeed, no one would have guessed this, least of all Aylmer himself. Only Kathleen had occasionally twitted her cousin by jesting allusions to Mr. Matheson's perfections, and Geraldine's evident appreciation of them. But even she had been silenced by her cousin's gentle replies and calmness of manner whenever Aylmer's name was mentioned.
"She cares nothing about Aylmer, except as a sort of adopted brother," had been Kathleen's mental conclusion.
"I wish she did, and that he cared for her. They would make a model couple, and suit each other to perfection. But the wrong people are constantly getting mated, and I suppose there is no help for it. However, Ger may be sure that she will never have a rival in me."
This last thought was passing through Kathleen's mind as she left the Hall and started on her walk. By the time she passed beyond her own boundaries, she found herself wondering whether the owner of Monk's How had returned, or if there were any truth in the report that he was not likely to be seen again in the neighbourhood of Hollingsby, unless his empty pockets were refilled by some extraordinary piece of good fortune.
Then Kathleen began to dream on her own account. She pictured Captain Jack as having another side to his character—a brighter, better, purer one than that which was open to the world. Evil reports were always exaggerated. Let people get hold of a little scandal, and it grew with every pair of lips the tale passed through. Lovers of slander delighted to show the worst side of a character, that they might the more readily find listeners. It was horrible to think how much more willing people were to pull characters to pieces than to give any one credit for what was good in them, much less to imagine any person's inner life could be better than what was on the surface.
Captain Jack was handsome. No one could deny that. Every one said he had wasted his wife's fortune, but few told how Mrs. Torrance had always believed in her husband, and that with all his faults he had loved her while living, and mourned her early death.
