“That must not weigh with me.  Even if the right hand offends you, ’cut it off,’ is the command.”

“At all events, you must study, or go though some preparation, before you are ordained, and perhaps in that interval you may change your views.  I do hope you will.  I should be indeed sorry to lose sight of a true friend like yourself.”

“A friend!” he returned, his brow contracting as if with pain.  “You do not know the depths of my selfishness——­”

The entrance of Miss Payne interrupted the conversation, and Bertie immediately changing the subject, Katherine understood that he did not as yet intend to speak to his sister of his new plans.

To Miss Payne, Katherine had again to describe her parting with her nephews, and she, in her turn, talked comfortably of her affairs.  She thought of going abroad for a short time should she let her house, as nothing very eligible offered in the shape of a young lady to chaperon.  Indeed she was somewhat tired of that sort of life, etc., etc.  At length Katherine bade them adieu, and returned to her present abode with a very sad heart.

The parting with her nephews had been a sore trial.  The idea of Bertie, her kind friend, whose sympathetic companionship had helped her so much to overcome the poignancy of her first grief for her dear mother, going away to banishment, and perhaps death, at the hands of those whose souls he went to save, caused her the keenest pain; and for nearly a fortnight she had not seen Errington!  She could not bring herself to ask where he was, and no one had happened to mention him.  This was really better.  His absence should be a help to forgetfulness; but somehow it was not.  He was so vividly before her eyes; his voice sounded so perpetually in her heart.

Why could she not think thus of De Burgh, whose devotion to her was evident, and whom, in spite of herself as it seemed, she was, to a certain degree, encouraging?

She felt unutterably helpless and oppressed.  Moreover, she was distressed by the consciousness that the small reserve fund which she had with difficulty preserved, could barely meet unexpected demands such as removing the boys from school, if necessary, an attack of illness, a dozen contingencies, any or all of which were possible, if not imminent.

Such a mood made her feel peculiarly unfit to shine at Mrs. Needham’s reception.  Still it was better to be obliged to talk and to think about others than to brood perpetually on her own troubles.  So she arrayed herself in one of the pretty soft grey demi-toilette dresses which remained among her well-stocked wardrobe, and prepared to assist her chief in receiving her guests, who soon flocked in so rapidly as to make separate receptions impossible.  Miss Bradley came early, arrayed in white silk and lace with diamond stars in her coronet of thickly-plaited red hair.  She was looking radiantly well—­so well and unusually animated that her aspect struck sudden terror into Katherine’s heart; something had gladdened her heart to give that expression of joyous softness to her eyes.  But it was weak and contemptible to let this sudden fear overmaster her, so she strove to be amused and interested in the conversation of those she knew, and her acquaintance had increased enormously since she came to reside with Mrs. Needham.