“Thank you.”  He seemed to hesitate a moment, and then, with a change of tone, observed:  “You and Miss Bradley seem to have become intimate.  You must find her an agreeable companion.  I think she might be a useful friend.”

“She is extremely kind.  I cannot say how much obliged to her I am; but,” continued Katherine, impelled by an unaccountable antagonism, “do you know, I cannot understand why she likes me.  There is no real sympathy between us.  She is so wise and learned.  She never would do wrong things from a sudden irresistible impulse, and then devour her heart with, not repentance, exactly, but remorse which cannot be appeased.”

“Probably not.  She is rather a remarkable woman.  Strong, yet not hard.  I fancy we are the arbiters of our own fate.”

“Oh no! no!” cried Katherine, with emotion.  “Just think of the snares and pitfalls which beset us, and how hard it is to keep the narrow road when a heart-beat too much, a sudden rush of sorrow or of joy, and our balance is lost:  even steady footsteps slide from the right way.  Believe me, some never have a fair chance.”

Errington made a slight movement nearer to her, and after a brief pause said, “I should like to hear you argue this with Angela Bradley.”

It sounded strange and unpleasant to hear him say “Angela.”

“I never argue with her,” said Katherine.  “Mine are but old-fashioned weapons, while hers are of the latest fashion and precision.  Moreover, we stand on different levels, I am sorry to say.  I wonder she troubles herself about me.  Is it pure benevolence? or”—­with a quick glance into his eyes, which were unusually animated—­“did you ask her of her clemency to throw me some crumbs of comfort?  If so, she has obeyed you gracefully and well.”

“Unreason has a potent advocate in you, Miss Liddell,” said Errington; smiling a softer smile than usual.  “But I want you to understand and appreciate Miss Bradley.  She is a fine creature in every sense of the word.  As friend, I am sure she would be loyal with a reasonable loyalty, and I flatter myself she is a friend of mine.”

“Another sister?” asked Katherine, forcing herself to smile playfully.

“Yes,” returned Errington, slowly, looking down as he spoke; “a different kind of sister.”

Katherine felt her cheeks, her throat, her ears, glow, as she listened to what she considered a distinct avowal of his engagement to the accomplished Angela, but she only said, softly and steadily, “I hope she will always be a dear and loyal sister to you.”

There was a moment’s silence.  Then Errington said, abruptly, his eyes, as she felt, on her face, “Have you seen De Burgh since his return?”

“No.”

“No doubt you will.  What a curious fellow he is!  I wonder how he will act, now that he has rank and fortune?  He has some good points.”

“Oh yes, many,” cried Katherine, warmly, “I could not help liking him.  He is very true.”