After Mrs. Liddell had visited the rooms upstairs—­mere dismantled receptacles of rubbish—­and they returned to what was to be Katherine’s abode, she sat down on the ponderous sofa, and in spite of her efforts to control herself the tears would well up and roll over.

“I feel quite ashamed of myself,” said she, in a broken voice; “but when I think of my Katie, here alone, with that cruel old man, it is too much for my strength.  She has been so tenderly reared, her life, though quiet and humble, has been so cared for, so tranquil, that I shrink from the idea of her banishment here.”

“It is not unnatural, my dear madam, but indeed the trial is worth enduring.  Do not believe that the will of which Mr. Liddell speaks is irrevocable.  He has made two or three to my certain knowledge, and it would be foolish to cut your daughter off from, any chance of sharing his fortune, which is considerable, I assure you, merely to avoid a little present annoyance.”

“It would indeed.  Do not think me very weak.  It is a passing fit of the dolefuls.  I have had much anxiety of late, and for the moment I have a painful feeling that I have sold myself and my dear daughter into the hands of a relentless creditor; that I shall never free my neck from his yoke.  I shall probably feel differently to-morrow.”

“I dare say you will.  You are a lady of much imagination; a writer, your daughter tells me.  Such an occupation should be an outlet for all imaginative terrors or anticipations, and leave your mind, your judgment, clear and free.  I am sure Miss Liddell will do her uncle and herself good by her residence here.  Mr. Liddell has been a source of anxiety to me and to my partners.  We have, you know, been his legal advisers for years, and to know that he is in good hands will be a great relief.  Rely on my—­on our doing our best to assist your daughter in every way.”

Mrs. Liddell, perceiving the friendly spirit which actuated the precise lawyer, thanked him warmly, and after a little further discussion of details, took her way home.

From the step she had voluntarily taken there was no retreat, nor, to do her justice, was Katherine Liddell in the least disposed to turn back, having once put her hand to the plough.  Indeed the blessed castle-building powers of youth disposed her to rear airy edifices as regarded the future, which lightened the present gloom.  Suppose John Liddell were to soften toward her, and make her a handsome present occasionally, or forgive this debt to her mother?  What a delightful reward this would be for her temporary servitude!  But though Katherine really amused herself with such fancies, they never crystallized into hope.  Hope still played round her mother’s chance of success with the publishers.  Not that she fancied her dear mother a genius; on the contrary, because she was her mother, she probably undervalued her work; but she knew that hundreds of stories printed and paid for lacked the common-sense and humor of Mrs. Liddell’s.