Part 15 (1/2)

”Aye, Catherine, what'll she be wis.h.i.+n' for, a new lover?” they laughed.

With shaking hand she tossed hers into the fire; the nut sputtered and blackened, and with a shriek Catherine bounded from the circle, threw open the door and sped into the dark. In consternation the company scrambled to their feet, gazing at the open door through which volleyed the wind and rain.

Old Pally was the first to speak: ”'Tis a bad sign.”

”Aye, poor Catherine's been called, it may be.”

”It's the last time, I'm thinkin', we'll ever see her.”

”Do ye think she saw somethin', Pally, do ye?”

”There's no tellin'; but it's bad, very bad, though her nut is burnin'

brightly enough now.”

”She seemed downcast the night, not like herself.”

”It can be nothin' at home, for Vavasour, they say, is treatin' her better nor ever, an' she's been that sweet-tempered the year long, which is uncommon for her.”

As she fled homeward through the dark, little did Catherine think of what they might be saying at Pally's. When Vavasour heard feet running swiftly along the street, he straightened up, his eyes in terror upon the door.

”Catherine!” he cried, bewildered at her substantial appearance, ”is it ye who are really come?”

There was a momentary suggestion of a rush into each other's arms checked, as it were, in mid-air by Vavasour's reseating himself precipitately and Catherine drawing herself up.

”Yes,” said Catherine, seeing him there and still in the flesh, ”it was--dull, very dull at Pally's; an' my feet was wet an' I feared takin'

a cold.”

”Aye,” replied Vavasour, looking with greed upon her rosy face and snapping eyes, ”aye, it's better for ye here, dearie.”

There was an awkward silence. Catherine still breathed heavily from the running, and Vavasour shuffled his feet. He opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.

”Did ye have a fine time at Pally's?” he asked.

”Aye, it was gay and fine an'--na----” Catherine halted, remembering the reason she had given for coming home, and tried to explain. ”Yes, so it was, an' so it wasn't,” she ended.

Vavasour regarded her with attention, and there was another pause, in which his eyes sought the clock. The sight of that fat-faced timepiece gave him a shock.

”A quarter past eleven,” he murmured; then aloud: ”Catherine, do ye recall Pastor Evans's sermon, the one he preached last New Year?”

Catherine also had taken a furtive glance at the clock, a glance which Vavasour caught and wondered at.

”Well, Catherine, do----”

”Aye, I remember, about inheritin' the grace of life together.”

”My dear, wasn't he sayin' that love is eternal an' that--a man--an'--an' his wife was lovin' for--for----”

”Aye, lad, for everlastin' life,” Catherine concluded.