“Quite true, my young philosopher.  Tell me, can you come on Saturday—­come to stay?”

“I fear not.  Besides I have a superstition about entering on a new abode on Saturday.  Don’t laugh!  But I will come to-morrow, if you like, and write and copy for you.  I will come each day till Monday next, and so help you to clear up.”

“That is a good child!  I wish I could make it worth your while to stay; but we don’t know what silver lining is behind the dark clouds of the present.”

Katherine shook her head.  Mrs. Needham’s suggestion showed her that peace and a relieved conscience was the highest degree of silvery brightness she anticipated in the future.  One thing alone could restore to her the joyousness of her early days, and that was far away out of her reach.

“Mr. Errington and Mr. Payne,” said one of the smart servants, throwing open the door.

“Ah, yes!  Mr. Errington, of course,” exclaimed Mrs. Needham, under her breath.  “I might have expected him.  And you too, Mr. Payne?” she added aloud.  “Very glad to see you both.”

As soon as they had paid their respects to the hostess, Errington spoke to Katherine, while Payne remained talking with Mrs. Needham.

“I am glad to see you looking better than when we last spoke together,” said Errington, pausing beside Katherine’s chair.  “Have you had any communication from Newton yet?”

“I have heard nothing from him, and feel very anxious to know George Liddell’s decision.  I had a note from Mrs. Ormonde, written in a much more friendly spirit than I had expected, but still in despair.  She, with the Colonel, had been to demand explanations from Mr. Newton, and do not seem much cheered by the interview.”

“No doubt the appearance of your cousin was a tremendous blow, but they have no right to complain.”

“However that may be, I will not quarrel with the boys’ mother, in spite of her unkindness.  I fear so much to create any barrier between us.”

“Those children are very dear to you,” said Errington, looking down on her with a soft expression and lingering glance.

“They are.  I don’t suppose you could understand how dear.”

“Why?  Do you think me incapable of human affection?” asked Errington, smiling.

“No, certainly not; only I imagine justice is more natural to you than love, though you can be generous, as I know.”

Errington did not answer.  He stood still, as if some new train of thought had been suddenly suggested to him, and Katherine waited serenely for his next words, when Miss Bradley, who had not interrupted her conversation, or noticed the new-comers in any way, suddenly turned her face toward them, and said, with something like command, “Mr. Errington!”