“Is that an attempt to find out my age?” asked Katherine, laughing.

“No! for I fancy I know it.  How far is this place you are going to from town, and how do you get to it?”

“The journey takes about three hours and a half, and you travel by the Southwestern line.”

“Well, I intend to have the pleasure of running down to see you presently, if you will permit me.”

“Oh, of course, we shall be very happy to see you.”

“I hope so,” said De Burgh, with a smile.  “I don’t think you are very encouraging.  If there are any decent roads about this place, shall we resume the driving lessons?”

“Thank you”—­evasively.  “I think of buying a donkey and chaise—­certainly a pony for the boys.”

De Burgh laughed.  “I suppose there is some boating to be had there.  I shall certainly have a look at the place, even if I be not admitted to the shrine.”  There was a pause, during which De Burgh seemed in profound but not agreeable thought; then he suddenly exclaimed:  “By-the-way, have you heard the news?  Old Errington died, rather sudden at last, some time last night.”

“Indeed!” cried Katherine, roused to immediate attention.  “I am very sorry to hear it.  The marriage will then be put off.  You know they were going to have it nearly a month sooner than was at first intended, because Mr. Errington feared the end was near.  He was with his father, I hope?”

“Yes, I believe he hardly left him for the last few days.  Now the wedding cannot take place for a considerable time.”

“It will be a great disappointment,” observed Katherine.

“To which of the happy pair?”

“To both, I suppose,” she returned.

“Do you think they cared a rap about each other?”

“Yes, I do indeed.  Every one has a different way of showing their feelings, and Mr. Errington is quite different from you.”

“Different—­and immensely superior, eh?”

“I did not say so, Mr. De Burgh.”

“No, certainly you did not, and I have no right to guess at what you think.  You are right.  I am very different from Errington; and you are very different from Lady Alice.  I fancy, were you in her place, even the irreproachable bridegroom-elect would find he had a little more of our common humanity about him than he suspects,” said De Burgh, his dark eyes seeking hers with a bold admiring glance.

Katherine’s cheek glowed, her heart beat fast with sudden distress and anger.  De Burgh’s suggestion stirred some strange and painful emotion.

“You are in a remarkably imaginative mood, Mr. De Burgh,” she said, haughtily.  “I cannot see any connection between myself and your ideas.”

“Can’t you?  Well, my ideas gather round you very often.”

“I wish he would go away; he is too audacious,” thought Katherine.  While she said, “I think Mr. Errington will be sorry for his father; I believe he has good feeling, though he is so cold and quiet.”