Part 14 (1/2)

”You cannot. She is from home. It was you then, who bribed Tester to keep the lodge gate open?”

”I gave the man a s.h.i.+lling. Yes, I confess it. I am doing no harm here.

Put yourself in my place.”

”How dare you? How can you?” said Catherine, stepping away from the travel-stained figure.

”Ah, you are very proud, but there's a verse of Scripture that fits you.

'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.' I know your age--you are just seventeen, I'm only nineteen, just two years older than you. You have no feeling for me. Suppose I had none for you?”

The refinement of the girl's voice became more and more apparent to Catherine. There was a thrill and a quality in it which both repelled and fascinated. This queer waif and stray, this vagabond of the woodside, was at least as fearless as herself.

”I don't know what you mean,” she said, in a less imperious tone than she had hitherto used.

”I could explain what I mean, but I won't. I have too kind a heart to crush you. I could crush you. I could take that dainty white hand of yours, and feel it tremble in mine--and if you knew all that I could say you wouldn't leave me out here in the avenue, but you'd take me in, and give me the best to eat, and the softest bed to lie upon. Don't you think it's very kind of me when I could use such power over you that I don't use it? Don't you think it's n.o.ble of me? Oh, you are a dainty girl, and a proud, but I could bring you and yours to the very dust.”

”You must be mad,” said Catherine. ”Absolutely mad. How can you possibly expect me to listen to this wild nonsense? You had better go away now.

I'll walk with you as far as the gate, and then I'll wake up Tester to lock it after you. You needn't suppose that I'm afraid.”

”Don't taunt me,” said the girl. ”If you do I'll use my power. Oh, I am hungry, and thirsty, and footsore. Why shouldn't I go into that house and sleep there, and eat there, and be rested?”

Her words were defiant, but just at the last they wavered, and Catherine saw by the moonlight that her face grew ghastly under its grimness, and she saw the slender young figure sway as if it would fall.

”You are hungry?” said Catherine, all her feelings merged in sudden pity. ”Even though you have no right to be here, you sha'n't go hungry away. Sit down. Rest against that tree, and I will fetch you something.”

She ran into the house, returning presently with a jug of milk, and some thick bread and b.u.t.ter.

”Eat that,” she said, ”and drink this milk, then you will be better. I slipped a cup into my pocket. It is not broken. I will pour you out a cup of milk.”

The girl seized the bread and b.u.t.ter, and began devouring it. She was so famished that she almost tore it as she ate. Catherine, who had quite forgotten her dignified _role_ in compa.s.sion for the first real hunger she had ever witnessed, knelt on the gra.s.s by her side, and once, twice, thrice, filled the cup full of milk, and held it to her lips.

”Now you are better,” she said, when the meal had come to an end.

”Yes, thank you, Miss Bertram, much better. The horrible sinking is gone, and the ground doesn't seem to reel away when I look at it. Thank you, Miss Catherine Bertram, I shall do nicely now. I do not at all mind sleeping here on the cool gra.s.s till the morning.”

”But you are not to stay. Why are you obstinate when I am good to you?

And why do you call me Miss Catherine Bertram? How can you possibly know my name?”

The girl laughed. Her laugh was almost cheerful, it was also young and silvery.

”You ask me a lot of questions,” she said. ”I'll answer them one by one, and the least important first. How I know your name is my own secret; I can't tell that without telling also what would crush you. But I may as well say that I know all about you. I know your appearance, and your age, and even a little bit about your character; and I know you have a younger sister called Mabel, and that she is not so pretty as you, and has not half the character, and in short that you are worth two of her.

”Then you have a brother. His name is Loftus. He is like you, only he is not so fearless. He is in the army. He is rather extravagant, and your mother is afraid of him. Ah, yes, I know all about you and yours; and I know so much in especial about that proud lady, your mother, that if there were daylight, and I had pencil and paper, I could draw a portrait of her for you. There, have I not answered your first question? Now you want to know why I don't go away. If you had no money in your purse, and if you had walked between twenty and thirty miles to effect an object of the greatest possible importance to yourself, would you give it up at the bidding of a young girl? Would you now?”

”You are very queer,” said Catherine; ”I fail to understand you. I don't know how you have got your extraordinary knowledge about us. You talk like a lady, but ladies don't starve with hunger, nor walk until they are travel-sore and spent. Ladies don't hide at midnight in shrubberies, in private grounds that don't belong to them. Then you say you have no money, and yet you gave Tester a s.h.i.+lling.”

”I gave him my last s.h.i.+lling. Here is my empty purse. Look at it.”