“Oh no, I am sure she will not.”

CHAPTER XXXI.

“MISS BRADLEY AT HOME.”

It was a bleak, blowy day when Katherine took the boys to school, and on returning she went straight to Miss Payne, who had promised to have tea ready for her.

Somewhat to her regret, she found only Bertie Payne, who explained that his sister had been called away about some business connected with a lady with whom she was trying to come to terms respecting her house, which she had now decided on letting.

“And how did you part with the boys?” he asked when he had given her a cup of tea and brought her the most comfortable chair.

“It was very hard to leave them,” returned Katherine, whose eyes looked suspiciously like recently shed tears.  “The place did not look half so nice to-day as I thought it was.  Everything is rough and ready.  The second master, too, is a harsh, severe-looking man.  Of course he has not much authority; still, had I seen him, I do not think I should have agreed to send Cis and Charlie there; but now I am committed to a quarter.  I cannot afford to indulge whims, and, at all events, they are within an easy distance.  Charlie looked so white, and clung to me as if he would never let me go!  How hard life is!”

“This portion of it is, and wisely so.  We must set our affections on things above.  I have been learning this lesson of late as I never thought I should have to learn it.”

“You?—­you who are so good, so unworldly?  Oh, Mr. Payne, what do you mean?  You are looking ill and worn.”

“I have been fighting a battle of late,” he returned, with his sweet, patient smile, “and I have conquered.  The right road has been shown to me, the right way, and I am determined to walk in it.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Katherine, with a feeling of alarm.

“I am going to take orders, and join the missionary ranks, either in India or China.  Work in England was growing too easy—­too heavenly sweet—­to be any longer saving to my own soul.”

“But Mr. Payne, don’t you see that your own poor country people have the first claim upon you—­that you are leaving a work for which you are so wonderfully well suited, in which you are so successful?  Oh, do think!  Here you leave people of your own race, whose wants, whose characters you can understand, to run away to creatures of another climate—­a different stock—­whose natures, in my opinion, unfit them for a faith such as ours, and who never, never will accept our religion!”

“Hush!” cried Payne, in an excited tone.  “Do not torture me by showing the appalling gulf which separates us.  Strange that a heart so tender as yours to all mere human miseries should yet be adamant against the Saviour’s loving touch.  This has been my cruel cross, and my only safety lies in flight, wretched man that I am!”

“I am dreadfully distressed about you, Mr. Payne.  Does your sister know?  It is really unkind to her.”