Part 33 (2/2)

”Leave it alone, Aunt Esther!” she cried vehemently. ”It is no business of yours; you don't understand; n.o.body understands. I have made Ted take his life. I am going to him _now_.”

The last sentence was the only one that reached Miss Esther's comprehension; she at once took up her usual att.i.tude of disapproval.

”Indeed, Katharine, you will do nothing of the kind,” she exclaimed querulously. ”What are we coming to next, I wonder? I sincerely trust, Cyril, that you will point out to your daughter that it is quite impossible for her to visit a young man in his chambers. I really wish that tiresome young Edward would emigrate, or marry, or do something that would put him out of the way. What has he been doing now, I wonder?”

Katharine paid no heed; her eyes were fixed feverishly on her father's face.

”Ted is ill, and he wants me. You will let me go, daddy, won't you?”

she said imploringly.

”I beg you to a.s.sert your authority, Cyril, by forbidding such a mad piece of folly,” cried the shrill tones of Miss Esther. Katharine turned upon her furiously.

”_You_, what can _you_ know about it? You have never known what it is to want to protect some one; you don't know the awful emptiness of having no one to care for. Daddy! you understand, don't you? I may go, mayn't I?”

The Rector glanced from one to the other. He had not put on his gla.s.ses, but he did not seem to want them just then. Slowly the tyranny of twenty years was losing its terrors for him; he even forgot to laugh nervously as the two women stood awaiting his answer; and although there was a smile on his face as he looked at them, it had only been called there by a reflection on his folly in the past. He marvelled at himself, as his eyes rested on the glowing features of his daughter, for ever having hesitated to support her.

”The child is in the right, Esther,” he said, mildly. ”I--I am fond of the dear boy myself, and he must not be left in the hour of his need.

We will go together, eh, Kitty?”

Miss Esther stared at him dumbly. She had never heard him speak like that before. After all, nothing is so convincing as the sudden a.s.sumption of power by the oppressed; and few things are more complete than the humiliation of the oppressor.

”Let me see,” continued the Rector: ”we cannot catch anything before the 1.28. That will give us time for an early lunch, if you will kindly see to it, Esther. Kitty, my child, do not fret over the boy; we will soon put him to rights, eh?”

Katharine remained immovable, with Monty's letter crunched in her hand. ”Ted has tried to kill himself--for _me_,” were the words that ran remorselessly in her mind.

Cyril Austen walked out of the room with a firm step. Miss Esther rattled her keys, muttered something to herself, and followed him almost immediately.

She was dethroned at last.

CHAPTER XVIII

The landlady had gone out of the room and closed the door. Katharine stepped softly to the side of the bed, and looked at the sleeping face. It was just the same as she had always known it, rounded and beardless, without a line or a wrinkle, and with the hair as loose and rumpled as it had been in the days before manhood had claimed its submission. ”Dear old Ted,” she murmured to herself with a half smile, ”I don't believe he _could_ look ill, however much he tried.” She stole about the room, putting flowers in the vases, and lightening some of its London dinginess, until the sound of her name brought her back again to the bedside.

”Dear old man, don't look so scared,” she laughed. ”We heard you were ill, and we came up to look after you, daddy and I. Daddy is still downstairs; he discovered an old print in the hall, and he hasn't got any further yet. There are a lot of old prints in the hall, so I suppose it will be ever so long before he does get any further. Isn't it like daddy?”

She smoothed his hair gently, and he laughed contentedly in reply. He did not seem at all surprised to see her; Kitty always had turned up, all his life, when he had got himself into a sc.r.a.pe; and it did not occur to him at the moment that she was more or less answerable for his present sc.r.a.pe.

”Just see how hit up I am!” he said. ”So poor, isn't it?”

Her face clouded.

”Oh, Ted, how could you do it? Ought I to have stayed in London and looked after you?” she said reproachfully; and he saw that it was useless to try to conceal anything from her.

”It's all right, Kit,” he hastened to explain in his humble manner.

”Don't swear, old chum! I couldn't help it, on my honour I couldn't. I got so sick, and I just had to. And after all I played so poorly, you see, that it didn't come off.”

Except for the subject of their conversation, they might have been back again in the lanes at Ivingdon. They had dropped naturally into their old boy and girl att.i.tude, and hers was as before the stronger personality. But there was a subtle difference in their relations which she was the first to feel.

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