Part 35 (1/2)

”Why, the woman is a witch!” thought the startled little woman, as she showed her guest the way to her room; ”but I believe the White Knight will be too strong for her game nevertheless.”

CHAPTER XX.

CATHERINE'S DISCOVERY.

Catherine left the cottage with its uncongenial atmosphere of babies and innocence, on the following morning, but before going she expressed a wish to have a quiet talk with Mary.

They went out into the garden together, and sat down on the seat under the great beech-tree. For some time neither spoke. Catherine was looking across the moor to the lake, strangely softened by the beautiful view.

The sternness faded from her brow and mouth as she gazed at it, and her thought travelled along gentle and unwonted ways for her.

But Mary sat motionless with downcast eyes, oppressed by a great fear.

It was a dreadful thing for her to think of the confession she was about to make.

At last Mrs. King remembered that she had little time to spare, so broke through the silence.

”Mary, dear! I wish to talk over a few necessary matters with you, that is if you are sure you are strong enough now, if you think that conversation won't hurt you.”

Mary indeed felt very ill; a strange sensation came to her heart as if it was about to stop, but she pressed her hand to it, and said firmly,

”I am quite well enough; I particularly wish to talk things over with you, mother, for I have much to tell you. I have been so anxious to see you and explain all to you--though I hardly dare--but I must, I must!”

”Don't be frightened Mary, don't be anxious! You must not worry yourself. We wish you to get well; so put our secret entirely out of your mind, at any rate for the present. You were very unhappy, dear, when you were with me. I am not quite certain why, but I think I can guess. Now, Mary, tell me if there is still anything on your mind, has the weight, whatever it is, been removed?... Don't be afraid of telling me all; I shall not blame you, poor child.”

Very tender was the tone in which she uttered the last words as she saw Mary's pale, frightened face.

The girl took the woman's hand in hers and kissed it. ”Yes, mother,” she said in a scared excited manner, ”there is still very much on my mind.

Oh! how can I tell it to you? What will you say? But I must, though I know you will hate me when you hear it.”

”You loved him then, Mary, loved him very much?” said Catherine sadly, half reproachfully. ”I think you ought to have confided in me, dear; but never mind, don't cry, I am not angry with you, my poor child.”

Mary looked up through her tears, and asked timidly, ”Did he tell you then, mother?”

”How could he have done so, Mary? I never saw him alive.”

”Alive! but he is not dead--whom are you talking about, mother?”

”Why, of Mr. Hudson, to be sure! Good heavens! what a cruel fool I am! I had no idea that they had not told you. Oh, Mary, I am so sorry!”

A very strange look came to Mary's face, half of bewilderment, half of terror. She put both hands to her forehead, and her brows knit, as if she were endeavouring to recall some terrible memory.

”Mr. Hudson!” she said in a dreamy voice as if speaking to herself.

”Yes, I know he is dead--but how do I know it? Who told me? I can't remember. Something horrible happened to him--oh, my head, my head!”

and an expression of pain pa.s.sed over her pale features.

Catherine kissed her forehead.

”O, Mary, what have I done? I ought to have known.”...