But in a few moments she was watching another face that had now a stronger fascination for her than ever—­Katie’s.  How lovely she looked.  Her demureness was giving way under the assaults that fate was making upon it, and she was becoming more and more like her old self—­with a difference, however, toward Elizabeth, if toward no one else.  It was true, she had greeted her with effusive warmth, but even then Elizabeth had felt the change and drawn back humbly in response to it.  But if more proof had been needed, it had been given.  For, as they stood together a moment before dinner, Katie said, “How much pleasure it must have given you to meet these guests of Stephen’s; no wonder they seem agreeable to you; it may be that you owe so much to them.”  Elizabeth looked at her in amazement.  “You know,” continued Katie, “that these are the people whose romantic story Master Harwin related to us one memorable evening?” “No, indeed, I never dreamed of it, Katie,” she added, her voice trembling.  “Why are you like this?  You know how it all came about; you know that—­” “Mistress Archdale,” Waldo’s voice broke in, and the young man came forward to be welcomed by a touch of Katie’s hand and a smile that gave him some excuse for lingering at her side.  Elizabeth, after responding briefly to his greeting, turned away.  Her heart was heavy.  It made very little difference about the Dacres, but she had lost Katie, that was a great deal.  Last night she had thought that she might find the girl’s resentment gone and her sense of justice, if not her affection, ruling her.  At least there was this comfort, thought the watcher, she had not broken Katie’s heart, it had only been her own—­that was better, after all, than breaking anyone’s else.  Yet a sudden choking came into her throat, she found her eyes grown dim, steadied her vision, heard a few words of what Sir Temple was saying about English rule, assented by a monosyllable, and went back to watching Katie, who seemed above sad fortunes as she sat so unmistakably enjoying herself.  She talked a little with Bulchester, and smiled upon him until he beamed with delight; then leaving him full of a secret conviction that she found him more congenial than the neighbor on her other hand, she devoted herself to Waldo, whose fierce suspicions had died out so that he was tranquilly enjoying his dinner, or exchanging remarks with some other guest, secretly delighted with the skill which Katie showed in making herself agreeable to bores.  Her bright brown hair would have gleamed in the sunlight without the gold-dust it was powdered with.  Her complexion, one of Titian’s warm blondes, was at its perfection; her eyes were grave enough for steady expression, and at times for a touch of pathos; it was at the sudden curving of her lips they filled with light, which was gone again directly, making the beholder feel that the sunshine had flashed over her face.  As Elizabeth looked at her, and admired her, and felt her heart still going out toward her