till you come back, and then you can tell your mamma what a treat you have had.”  Arrived at the door on their way out, Kitty whispered again:  “I want to say something”—­“Well, what is it?”—­“Will you tell the donkey-boy to make him gallop?”—­“I’ll tell the boy he shall have sixpence if you are satisfied; and you will see what he does then.”  Kitty looked up earnestly in her grandmother’s face.  “What a pity it is you are not always like what you are now!” she said.  Mrs. Presty actually blushed.

Chapter XXXV.

Captain Bennydeck.

For some time, Catherine and her mother had been left together undisturbed.

Mrs. Presty had read (and destroyed) the letters of Lady Myrie and Mrs. Romsey, with the most unfeigned contempt for the writers—­had repeated what the judge had really said, as distinguished from Lady Myrie’s malicious version of it—­and had expressed her intention of giving Catherine a word of advice, when she was sufficiently composed to profit by it.  “You have recovered your good looks, after that fit of crying,” Mrs. Presty admitted, “but not your good spirits.  What is worrying you now?”

“I can’t help thinking of poor Kitty.”

“My dear, the child wants nobody’s pity.  She’s blowing away all her troubles by a ride in the fresh air, on the favorite donkey that she feeds every morning.  Yes, yes, you needn’t tell me you are in a false position; and nobody can deny that it’s shameful to make the child feel it.  Now listen to me.  Properly understood, those two spiteful women have done you a kindness.  They have as good as told you how to protect yourself in the time to come.  Deceive the vile world, Catherine, as it deserves to be deceived.  Shelter yourself behind a respectable character that will spare you these insults in the future.”  In the energy of her conviction, Mrs. Presty struck her fist on the table, and finished in three audacious words:  “Be a Widow!”

It was plainly said—­and yet Catherine seemed to be at a loss to understand what her mother meant.

“Don’t doubt about it,” Mrs. Presty went on; “do it.  Think of Kitty if you won’t think of yourself.  In a few years more she will be a young lady.  She may have an offer of marriage which may be everything we desire.  Suppose her sweetheart’s family is a religious family; and suppose your Divorce, and the judge’s remarks on it, are discovered.  What will happen then?”

“Is it possible that you are in earnest?” Catherine asked.  “Have you seriously thought of the advice that you are giving me?  Setting aside the deceit, you know as well as I do that Kitty would ask questions.  Do you think I can tell my child that her father is dead?  A lie—­and such a dreadful lie as that?”

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Presty..

“Nonsense?” Catherine repeated indignantly.