“Thank God he is gone!” was Katherine’s mental exclamation as the sound of his foot-fall died away.  She was troubled by his intensity and determination, and touched by his unmistakable sincerity.  “If I loved him I should not be afraid to marry him.  I think he might possibly make a good husband to a woman he was really attached to; but I have not the least spark of affection for him, though there is something very distinguished in his figure and bearing; even his ruggedness is perfectly free from vulgarity.  Yes, he is a sort of man who might fascinate some women; but he is terribly wrong-headed.  If he keeps hoping on until I marry, he has a long spell of celibacy before him.  I dare say he will be married himself before two years are over.”

She sat awhile longer thinking, her face growing softer and sadder.  Then she rose, wrapped her shawl round her, and walked slowly back to the cottage, where she found the rest of the party just returned, joyous and hungry.

Bertie came down late on the following Saturday, and brought a note from Rachel Trant to Katherine, accepting her offer of quarters at Sandbourne with grateful readiness.  Katherine was always pleased with her letters; they expressed so much in a few words; a spirit of affectionate gratitude breathed through their quiet diction.

Katherine was very glad to receive it, for Bertie’s accounts of their protegee made her uneasy.  She had at first refused to move, saying it was really of no use spending money upon her, and seemed to be sinking back into the lethargic condition from which Katherine had woke her.

Her kind protectress therefore set off early on Monday to tell Mrs. Norris she was coming, and to make her room look pretty and cheerful.  By her orders the boatman’s son was despatched to meet their expected tenant on her arrival.  Miss Payne having arranged a picnic for that day, at which Katherine’s company could not be dispensed with.

When they returned it was already evening; still Katherine could not refrain from visiting her friend.  “She will be so strange and lonely with people she has never seen before,” she said to Bertie.  “As soon as tea is over I shall go and see her.”

“It will be rather late, yet it will be a great kindness.  I will go with you, and wait for you among the rocks on the beach.”

Miss Payne expressed her opinion that it was unwise to set beggars on horseback, but offered no further opposition.

The sun had not quite sunk as Katherine and her companion walked leisurely by the road which skirted the beach toward the boatman’s dwelling.

“I wish we could find some occupation that could so fill Rachel Trant’s mind as to prevent these dreadful fits of depression,” began Katherine.

“She had plenty of work, and seemed successful in her performance of it,” he returned; “but it does not seem to have kept her from a recurrence of these morbid moods.  Loneliness does not appear to suit her.”