JBRX. 0K Presented By DAD CLARKE tke Jbmirtan (fcoti Ubrary A CROOKED PATH MRS. ALEXANDER, AUTHOR OF THE WOOING O'T," "A LIFE INTEREST," "BLIND FATE," ETC. /A^d/4^4' By DAD CLARKE? To tie Jiimisiatt Grotto NEW YORK: WM. L. ALLISON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. THE McQconcc PRINTXNT- Co., 220-222 WILLIAM ST., NEW YORK. ::i>- .'"! k /^ ro A CROOKED PATH. CHAPTER I. "GATHERIN(J CLOUDS.'* THE London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, before the arch admitting 1 to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make room for the huge, ever -increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bus had been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamil- ton Place. It was the forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at that hour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate then surmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steed was eoaparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from opposite directions recognized each other, and paused at the gate of Apsley House the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age, and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightly bloodshot eyes ; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have been thirty, or even "forty, so grave and sodate was his bearing, although his erect carriage, elnstic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earlier manhood. Both had the indescribable well-groomed, freshly bathed look peculiar to Englishmen of the "upper ten." li Ha! Erririgton ! I didn't know you were in town. I thought you were cruising somewhere with Melford, or rusticating at Garston Hall. I think your father expected you about this timc.- : "I don't think so. I was summoned by telegraph from Pans. My father was seized with a paralysis last week . He had just come up to town, and for a few days was dangerously ill, but is now slowly recovering." " Very sorry to hear of it. A man of his stamp would have been of immense value to the country. He had begun to take a very leading part in local matters. I 'trust ho will come round." "I fear he will never be the same again. I doubt if he will be able to direct his own ail'airs as he used." 213G087 6 A CROOKED PATH. " That's bad ! You are not in the business, I believe ?" " No ; I never took any part in it. I almost regret I did not. It would, I imagine, be a relief to my father, now that his mind is less clear, to know that I was at the helm. But we have a capital man as manager, quite devoted to the house. I shall get my father down to the country as soon as I can, and I trust he'll come round." 'No doubt' he will. He was wonderfully hale and strong- for his years." "Ay ! how d'ye do, Bertie?" interrupted the first speaker, holding out his hand to a young- man who came up from Hyde Park and seemed about to pass with a smile and a nod. " Who would have thought of meeting you in these godless regions? I hear you are busy 'slumming 'from morning till night." "Well, Colonel," returned Bertie a slight, fair, boyish looking 1 man "I am so far false to my new vocation as to have lost some irrevocable moments looking at the horses and horsewomen in the Row." "Aha ! the old leaven, my dear boy ! You are on the brink of perdition. Don't you know Bertie Payne?" he continued, to his newly met friend. " He was one of my subs before he renounced the devil and all his works. He was with us at Barrackbore when you were in India." "I do not think we have met," the other Avas beginning, when a young lady toward whom the Colonel had already cast some sharp, admiring' glances as she stood on the curb-stone holding a hand of the smaller of two little bovs in smart sailor suits uttered a cry of dismay. The elder child had rushed into the road, as if to stop a passing omnibus, not seeing that a hansom was coming up at sjx-ed. The young man called Bertie dash;-d forward, and barely suc- ceeded in snatching the child from under the wheel. A scramble of horses' feet, an imprecation or two shouted by the irritated driver, a noisy declaration from the "fare " that he should lose his train, and the scuffle was over. The little man, held firmly by the shoulder, was marched back to his young guardian. "Thank vou ! oh, thank you a thousand times ! You have saved his life !" she exclaimed, fervently, in unsteady tones. Then to the child: "How could you break your promise to stay by me, Cecil? You would have been killed but for this gentleman !" "I wanted to catch the ' omlibus ' for you. auntie !" he cried, with an irrepressible sob, though he gallantly' tri- d to hold back his tears. " Hope the little felloiv is none the worse of his fright," said (he Colonel, advancing and raising his hat. Can 1 be of any use ? can I call a cab?" " No, thank you ; I will take an omnibus and g-et home as soon as I can. Cecil will soon forget his fright, I fear ' " Sooner than you will," remarked Bertie. "There is a Royal Oak omnibus. Will that do?" " Yes, thank you." " Come along," then, my young man ; I will not let you go." Bertie put the trio into tlie vehicle, and the lookers-on saw that he shook hands with "auntie" as the conductor jumped on his perch and they rolled on. < < A CROOKED PATH. 7 " Gad ! there's a chance for you !" cried the Colonel as Bertie joined him. " An uncommon fine girl, by Georg-e ! What a color- nig' : and a splendid pair of black eyes !" " I suspect extreme fright did a go^d deal for both, poor girl. Her eyes are brown, not black." " Brown ! Nonsense ! Didn't you think they were black ?" "I did not observe them," returned the grave personage head- dressed, indifferently. " The boy had a narrow escape. I must say good morning 1 ," he added. "Stop a bit," cried the Colonel. " I must see you again before you leave town. Dine with me to-morrow at the Junior. And, Bertie' "Thanks, no, I am engaged." He said good -by and walked on. "Queer fellow that," said the Colonel, looking after him. "He got into some money troubles in India, left the a> my, and got con- verted. Now ho is not exactly a Salvation soldier, biit something of the land. He'll b,: at you one of the days for a subscript! n to con- vert the crossing sweepers or some such undertaking. But you'll dine with me to-morrow. I'll tell you all the Clayshire gossip."" " Thank you, 1 shall be very happy." " Th?n good-by for the present. I am engaged to lunch to meet one of the prettiest little widows you ever saw in your life, but she has no cash. Here, hansom," calling to the driver of a cab which was passing slowly. "I am a little late." He jumped in and drove off. His friend, with a slight grave smile, continued his walk to the Alexandria Hotel, the portals of which received him. Meantime the hero of the cab incident sat very demurely by his young aunt, as the omnibus rolled slowly up Park Lane, occasion- ally stealing inquisitive glances at her face. " You have been a very naughty boy, Cecil !" she exclaimed as her eyes met his. "How could I have gone home to mamma if I had been obliged to leave you behind ?" " But you needn't, you' know : you could have tied me up in a bundle and taken me back. Mamma would have known it wasn't your fault." " I am not so sure of that, and you have made poor Charlie cry" drawing the younger boy to her side. ' Charlie is just a baby,'' contemptuously. ' He is a better boy than you are." Silence. 'Auntie, do you tfiink the gentleman who pulled me back was the ok gentleman's son ?" ' No, I do not think he was. 'Why don't you, auntie?" 'I can hardly say why." 'I have seen that gentleman the old gentleman in Kensington Gardens," said little Charlie, nestling up to his aunt. "He spoke to mammy the day she took me to feed the ducks." "I think that is only a fancy, dear." " No ; I am quite sure." " Oh, you are always fancying things ; you are a silly," cried 8 A CROOKED PATH. Cecil, now quite recovered, and turning- to kneel upon the seat that he mig-ht look out, thereby rubbing his feet on the very best "after- noon '" dress of a severely respectable female, whose rubicund face express, -d '-drat the boy !" as strongly as a face could. Th.' ivst of the journey was accomplished after the usual style of such travels when the aunt and nephews went out together. Cecil was cor.s'jmtly rebuked and made to sit down, and as constantly resumed his favorite position ; so that he ultimately reached home with beauti- fully d.-fin sh.H's, having- wiped "the dust oft' his feet " effectually on the ganneutsof his fellow-passengers, while his little brother nestled to his auntie's side and gazed observantly on his fellow-travellers, arriv- ing- at curious conclusions respect ing-"them, to be afterward set forth to the aTp.us-'inent of his hearers. L a, ing- tha omnibus at the Royal Oak, the trio diverged to one of th ' streets between that well-known establishment and the Bays- water Road a street which had still a few trees and small semi- detached villas, with front gardens left at one end, the relics of a past when Penrhyu Place was "quite the country"; while at the oth>r, bricks, mortar, scaffolding, and a deeply rutted roadway in- dica*x-d the commencement of mansions which Vould soon swallow up their humbler predecessors. At one of these villas, the garden of which was tolerably neat, the little boys and their aunt stopped, and were admitted by a smart but not over-clean girl, who welcomed the children with a cheerful, " AVell. Master Cecil, you are just in nice time for dinner! Come, get your things off ; your gran ma has a treat for you." ' ' Has she ? " Oh, what is it ? Do tell, Lottie ! " " Don't mind, dear, if you are tired ; your morning-gown will do very well, as we are alone." " No, no ; 1 must honor Cecil's birthday with my best dress. These trifles are important." ' ' I supp- s so," returned her daughter, looking after her gravely, as she lett the room. Mrs. Liddell was tall, and the lines of her figure considerably en- larged. Yet she had not quite lost -the grace for which shs was once remarkable. Her light brown hair had a pale look from the increas- ing admixture of gray, and her blue eyesseemed faded by much i:s >. It was a kind, thoughtful, worn face from which they looked, yet it could still smile brightly. " She looks very, very tired,'' thought her daughter. "I nir.st make her lie down if I can ; it is so hard to make her rest !" tSh ? too looked uneasily at the mass of writing on the table, and then went away to remove Tier out-door attire. The birthday dinner gave great satisfaction. It was crowned by a plum-pudding, terrible as such a compound must always be in June ; but it was a favorite "goody "with the young hero of the day. Grandmamma made herself a*s agreeable as though she was one of a party of wits, and drank her grandson's health in a bottle of choice gooseberry, proposing- it in a "neat and appropriate" speech, which gave rise to much uproarious mirth and delight. At last the feast was over ; the children retired to amuse themselves with a horse and a wheelbarrow some of the birthday gifts in the back garden A CROOKED PATH. 9 (a wilderness resigned to their ravages), and Mrs. Liddell and her daughter wen; left alone. ' Now, mother,
  • co.ae and lie down on the sofa in the dra' ^ room. I see you are out of sorts. You hardly tasted I and you are dreadfully tired ; come and rest. I will read you u> sleep." " No, Kate ; there can he no rest for me, my darling-," returned her mother, rising, and be^hr.iiiig- to put the plates and glasses to- f ether with a nervous movement. "1 am out of sorts, for I have ad a g eat disappointment. 7 '/,.' /'",;;.// L' t -i<'i:d has refused my three-volume novel, and I really have n t the heart to try it any- where else after such repeated rejections. At the same time Skinner & Palm write to say they cannot use MV short story, ' On the Rack,' for five or six months, as they have such a quantity of already ac- cepted manuscripts." "How provoking-!" cried Katharine. "But come away; the drawing'-room is cooler ; le<- usg'o ("hare and talk thing's over." Mrs. Liddell ace .'p:eu the siiu .; estion, and sank into an arm-chair, while her daug\i>r let down the blinds, and then placed herself on a low ottoman opposite her. There was a short silence; then -Mrs Liddell sighed and began: "I counted so much on that short story for ready money ! Skinner always pays directly he has published. Now 1 do not know what to do. If I take it back I may fail to dispose of it, yet I cann t wait. But the novel that is the worst disappointment of all. I suppose it was foojijjh, but I felt ;'>' about that." "Of course you did," cried Katharine, eagerly. "It is an ex- cellent story." "It is not worse than many Santley brings out." resumed Mrs. Liddell; "but one is no judge of one's own work. It was with re- luctance I offered it fo Tin- b'am'>l : i Friend, and }'ou see' 1 her voice fak-.TC !, and she stopped abruptly. Katherineknew the tears were' in her eyes and swelling her heart. She restrained the impulse to throw her arms round her ; she feared to a i:;ite her mother ; rather sha would help her self-control. "Well, di-ar, I am no great judg-e, but I am quite sure that such a story as yours must succeed sooner or later. So we will be patient." "Ah! but, Katie, the landlord and th? butcher will not wait, and. my child, I have only about live pounds. I made too sure of suc- cess for I did so well last year. Th -n Madame de Corset will > be sending in her bill for that famous dress of Ada's, and she will want the money she lent me." " Then Madame de Corset must wait," said Katharine, firmly. "Ada is really your debtor. Where could she live at so small a cost as with you?" Where could she be so free to run about without a thought' for the children ? What has become of her? Couldn't she stay with Cecil on his birthday ?" "She is gone to luncheon with the Burnetts. It is as well to keep up with them ; their influence might be useful to the boys hereafter; but I do wish I could pay rv-r." " I wish you could, for it would make you happier ; but she really owes you ten pounds and more.". 10 A CROOKED PATH. " "What shall I do aboxit that novel ? If I could get two hundred even one hundred pounds for it, I should do well. I began to hope I might make both ends meet with my pen. Oh, Katie dear, I am ashamed of myself, but for the first time in my life I feel beaten. I feel as if I could not come up to time again. It has been such a long, weary battle !" She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. * I wish / could give you rest, darling mother !" said Katherine, taking her hand and fondling it. " I fear I have been too useless too thoughtless." " You have done all you could, my child ; one cannot expect much from nineteen. But I wish I ,vish' I could think of any means of deliverance from my present difficulty. A small sum would suffice. Where to lind it is the question. I counted too much on those un- lucky manuscripts, and now I do not know where to turn ; I see a vista of debt." A sudden fit of coughing interrupted her. "You have taken cold, mother," cried Katharine. "I heard you coughing this morning. I was sure you would suffer for sitting near the open window in the study last night " "It was so hot !" murmured Mrs. Lidddl, lying back exhausted. " Yes, but it was also frightfully clamp. Tell me, mother, is there anything we can sell? anything' : Mrs. Liddell interrupted her. "Nothing, dear. The few jewels I had preserved went when I was trying to furnish this house. I fancied we should do well in a house of our own, and I was so anxious to make a home for my poor boy's widow !" " When do you expect any more money?" " Not for nearly two months, and then another quarter's rent will be due." "Mother," said Katherine, after a moment's silence, " would not my father's brother, of whom I heard you speak, help you ? It is dreadful to ask, but he is so near a kinsman, and childless." " It is useless to think of it. He and your father quarrelled about money, and he is implacable. His only child, a son, opposed him, and he drove him away. Poor fellow ! he was killed in Australia." " Why have hard-hearted wivtches heaps of money, while kind, generous souls like you never have a farthing ?" "That is a mystery of longstanding,' said Mrs. Liddell, with a faint smile. "Katie, I cannot think or talk any more. 1 will go and lie down in my own room. There neither Ada nor the children can dis- turb me. "Oh, my darling, how can I ever die in peace if 1 leave yo<> to do battle with the bitter, bitter world unprovided for T Her voice quivered, and the hand she laid on her daughter's trembled. " Do not fear for me, mother. I am toughor and more sel ish ihr.i you are. It is time I worked for you. How feverish you ;uv! Come up to your own room. You will see things differently wh-si you have had a little sleep. If the worst comes, / will tell Ada that we must give up the hous. and go back to lodgings. We- never had difficulties before we came here." "No, for we never had debts. Now I have, and I have this hnusi for nearly three years longer. It is not so easy to shake of engage- ments as' you would a cloak that had grown too heavy. ' So saying, Mrs. Liddell rose and ascended to the room she shared A CROOKED PATH. 11 with her daughter, whom she allowed to take off her dress and put on her wrapper, to arrange her pillows, to bathe her brow in eau-de- cologne and water, and soothe her with those loving touches, those tender cares, that the heart alone can prompt, till in spite of the cloud and thick darkness that hid her future, Mrs. Liddell was calmed by the delicious sense of her daughter's love and sympathy. "I will make a list of editors, 1 ' said Katherine " I mean those Avhom you have not tried and go round to them myself. Perhaps I may bring you luck." " Yes ; your young life is more likely to have fortune on its side: the fickle jade lias forsaken me." Katherine made no reply beyond a gentle kiss. She sat silently by h:-r mother's side, till feeling' the hand that held hers relax its hold, she slowly and softly withdrew her own, comforted to perceive that balmy sleep had stolen upon the weary woman. IS ill she sat there thinking with all the force of her young brain, partly i\;m '.inhering, partly anticipating. Of 'her father she had scarce any knowledge. She was but four years old when he died, and lur only brother was nearly fourteen. Tli3 oldest and youngest of Mrs. Liddell's children were the survivors of several. Katharine's m?mory of hor childish days presented the dim picture of a quaint foreign town ; of blue skies, bright sunshine, and abun- dant vegetation ; of large rooms and a smiling black -eyed attendant in a p.'culiar h. -ad-dress ; of arm 3 one lying back in a' large chair, near whom she must never make a noise. Then came a change '; m >th jr always in black, with a white cap, and often weeping, and of colder winters, snow and skating- a happy time, for she was alwavs with mother both in lesson and play time, whilst Fred used to go away early to school. Next, clear and distinct, was the recollection of her first visit to London, and from this time she was the com- panion and confidante of her mother. They were poor at least every outlay had to be carefully considered but Katie never knew the want of money. Then canie the excitement and preparation at- tending Fred's departure for India, the mixture of sorrow and satis- faction with which her mother parted from him, of how bitterly she had cried herself ; for though somewhat tyrannical, Fred had been always kind and generous. HoV well she remembered the day he had left them never to return how her mother had clasped her to her heart and exclaimed : " You must be all in all to me now, Katie. I have done but little for you yet, dear, Fred needed so much." A spell of happy, busy life in Germany followed, enlivened by lon- lett.-rs from the young Indian officer, whose career seemed full of promise. But when Katherine was a little more than thirteen sor- row- fell upon them. Fred's letters had become irreg-ular ; then camo a confession of weakness and debt, crowned by the supreme folly of marriage, concluding with a prayer for help. .Mrs. Liddell was cruelly disappointed. She had hoped and ex- pected much from her boy. Sir; believed he was doing so well ! She told all to Katie, who heartily agreed with her that Fred must be helped. Some of their slender capital was sold out and sent to him 12 A CROOKED PATH. while mother and daughter cheerfully accepted the loss of many trifling indulg.'ii...vf, di'aving the narrow li ir expenditure closer scill, content and free from debt, though as time went on Ka'herine cast many a longing- glance at the world of social enjoy- ment hi whkh their poverty forbade her to triumph. Mrs. Liddell had always loved literature, and her husband hn '. been an accomplished though a reckless and self -indulgent man. She had \\ andered a good deal with him, and had seen a great variety of peoj 1,' and places. It occurred to her to try her p -n as a means of adding to her income, and after some failures .she succeeded with one or two of the smaller weekly periodicals. This induced her to return to London, hoping to do better in that great centre, of work . Here the tidings of her son's death overwhelmed her. Next cam:; an im- ploring letter from the young widow, who had no near relatives, praying to be allowed to" live with her and Katherine sharing ex- penses as the pension to which an officer's widow and orphans wero entitled insured her a small provision. So Mrs. Liddell again roused herself, and managed to furnish very scantily the little hom-3 where Katherine sat thinkh:g. But the ad- dition to their income was but meagre compared to the expenses which followed in the train of Mrs Frederic Liddell and her two " little Indian boys." All the efforts of the practical mother and daughter did not suffice to keep within the limits they dreaded to overpass. Mrs. LHld -ll's pen became in. re than ever essential to the inaint 'iifii.-ce of the household, while the younger widow considered herseK a martyr to the most sordid, the most unnecessary stinginess. A tapping at the door and suppressed childish laughter called Katherme from her thoughts. She rose and opened the door qiiickly and softly. "Husfi, Cecil! be quiet, Charlie! poor grannie is asleep. Come with me down-stairs ; I will read to you if you like." ' Oh yes, do,' 1 said Charlie. ' I don't care for reading," cried Cecil. " Can't you play bears?'' 'It makes too much noise. I will play it to-morrow if grand- mamma is better. Shall I tell you a story ?" ' No," said Cecil ; "/will tell you one." 'Very well. I shall be delighted to hear it." ' I would ratho$have you read, auntie," said the little one. ' Never mind, Charlie"; I will read to you after." r ' Shall we sit in the garden ? 'We have made it quite clean and tidy." ' ' No, dear ; grannie would hear us there. Come into the dining- room." Establishedthere, the boys one on each side of her, Katherine listened to the young story-teller, who b<-.irly dragged him under the feet of a horse thai was coming up. nr.d they would both have been killed if Frank had not called out co liu cabman to stop." "Oh, Cecil, that is you and I. Wh /-v, W to go, my boy ; Jjut I have brought you a bag' of sweets : it is in the hall. Dear me ! how stu.i'y this room is ! Mrs. HuruoU's h >use, i.s - cool and fresh ! It looks' into a charming gard . n at tha back ; raid oh. how delightful it must be to be rich!"' She Irid advanced iato the room as she spoke, and began to untie aud sia )^:,ii oat her bonnet strings. "It must indeed," returned Katharine, wirh a deep sigh. and Yes, very wear half-mourning ; it suits you admirably." " I think it does ; but I must put it oT some day, you know. Cecil dear, go and ask cook to make me a cup of tea. * I will have it up in my room. Charlie, don't cuddle up against your aunt in that way; it makes her too hot, and you will grow crooked." Charlie jumped down from his chair and held up his face. " There, dear," giving a hasty kiss. "Don't worry." " Mammy," said Cecil, with much solemnity, " I was nearly killed to-day." "Nonsense, dear! This is one of your wonderful inventions. What does he mean, Katharine?" ' He might have been. He darted from me at Hyde Park Corner, intendin > to catch an omnibus, and would have been run over if a gentleman had not snatched him from under tha horses' feet." " My precious boy !" laying her hand on 'his h?ad, but keopln" him at a distance. "How wrong of you, Katherine, to let his hand go !" " I did not let it go : I was not holding it," returned dryly. ' At Hyde Park Corner ?" pursued Mrs. Frederic Liddell, eagerly *' Was the gentleman soldierly jtnd stout, with gray mustaches'?" 14 A CROOKED PATH. " No. He was young- and slight and clean -shaved." "That is curious ; for Colonel Ormonde was saying 1 at luncheon to-day that he had saved, or helped to save, such a pretty little boy from being run over. I don't exactly remember what he said. I was listening to Mrs. De Vere Hopkins, and Mrs. Burnett's boy was making a noise. Colonel Ormonde said he was just like a little. fcllo\v he had seen nearly run over that morning 1 . I am sure Tom Burnett is not half as handsome as my Cecil." " I should not have been run over if auntie had left me alone." " Go and get mother's tea, and you, Charlie, fetch her some nice bread and butter," said Katherine, who, thoug-h six or seven years her sister-in-law's junior, looked at h'rst sight older. " There was an elderly gentleman such as you describe, talking with the young man who rescued Cecil, and he was very polite and interested in Cecil, who broke away from me, though" he had promised to stay by my side." "Promised," repeated Mrs. Frederic, lightly, and carefully dust- ing her bonnet with her handkerchief. " What can you expect from a child's promise? But poor Cecil rarely does right in your eyes." "Nonsens;;, Ada !" "Not at all. I am very observant. But tell me, did Colonel Ormonde take much notice of Cecil."' " I do not know. I was too much frightened to see anything but the iiear child himself." Mrs. Frederic did not reply for a moment ; she seemed to be think- ing deeply. "Where did you get those flowers those you bought on Saturday for sixpence ?" "Oh! at the little florist's on Queen's Road. It was late in the evening, yoii know, or they would not have been so cheap." "I should like some to-morrow to make the drawing-room look pretty, if possible, for Colonel Ormonde said he would call. He wishes to see some of my Otoeammed photographs. Heigho ! it is a miserable place to receive any one in. ' " Well, you see, it must do." "Really, Katherine, you are very unsympathetic. If you have a fault, dear, it is selfishness. You don't mind my saying so?" " Oh, not at all. I am thankful for the ' if.' " ; ' Where is your mother ?" "Lying down. She is tired, and has a horrid headache." " I'm sure I don't wonder at it, toiling- from morning till night for those wretched papers. I was telling Mrs. Burnett to-day that my mother-in-law was an authoress, but when I mentioned (fiat she wrote tor Tin family Friend and The Cheerful I'ixitor, Lady Ever- ton, who write? im The Court Journal and various grand things of that kind, said they were quite low publications, and never got higher than the servants' hall." " You need not have gone into particulars, Ada. Whether my mother writes well or ill. the pressure on her is too g*eat to allow of her picking or choosing ; she must catch -it the quickest market." " I'm sure it is a great pity. That is the reason I stay on here, and let you teach Cis and Charlie, though Colonel Ormonde says the sooner b'oys are out of a woman's hands the better," A CROOKED PATH. 15 " If Colonel Ormonde is the old man I saw this morning 1 , he looks more capable of judging a dinner than what is the best training for youth." " Old !" screamed the pretty wk-jw. " He is not old ; he is only mature. He is very well off, too. He has a place in the country. And as to mentioning those papers, I know notiiing of such things. The Nineteenth Century, or Bow Bells, or The Family Friend, they are all the same to me. Only I am sure such a nice lady -like woman as Mrs. Liddell should not write for the servants' hall. She must have been so handsomo, too ! Fred, poor fellow, was her image. You will never be so good-looking, Kate." " No, I don't suppose I shall," returned Katherine, with much equanimity. "Are there any letters fer me?" asked Mrs. Frederic, looking round as she Lifted her bonnet from the table. "Here are two." " Ah ! this is from Harry Vigors. I suppose he is coming home. And oh ! this is Madame de Corset's bill " putting down her bonnet and opening it. "Eleven pounds seventeen and ninepence-half- penny. Why, this is abominable ! She promised it should not be much more than ten pounds. There is five per cent off for ready money. Oh, I'll pay it immediately. How much will that bo alto- gether, Kate? Eleven shillings? Well, that is worth saving. Tt will buy me two pairs of gloves. Now I'll go and rest. Tell me when Mrs. Liddell is awake." CHAPTER H. BREAKING NEW GROUND. KATHERIXE took care that her sister-in-law should not have an opportunity of private conversation with Mrs. Liddell, that evening at least. She rolled up and arranged the disordered manuscripts, putting the small stt,dy in order, and locking away the rejected tales. Then she proposed conducting the young widow to the florist's, as the evening grew cooler, and ma'de herself agreeable by listening attentively to the little woman's description of the luncheon part v, and her repetition of all the pretty things said to hen- by tfia various gentlemen present, especially by Colonel Ormonde. " Of course I do not mind their nonsense, but however my h"nrt m&y cling to dear Fred's memory, I must think of my precious boys," was her conclusion. To which Katherine answered, " Of course," as she would hn\v answered any proposition, however wild, provided only she could save her mother from worry, at least for that evening. Next day was showery and dull. True to her resolution, Katherine put her mother's lucubrations into their covers, and prepared to start on her projected round. " 1 am not sure I ought to let you go, Katie ripar said Mrs. 16 A CROOKED PATH Liddell, as her daughter came into the study in hor out-door dress. " it is rather a wild goose chase. Why should you succeed for me wii 'i; I have failed for myself? Besides, personal interviews are of no nvail. >*Y, editor will take work that does not suit him, however -thi, ered by her brief interview with the publisher. It seemed th;; si .> ,-is in a lucky vein: trouble is always conducive to superstition. When visible hope fails, poor human hearts turn to the invisible and the improbable. At last she paused at "John Wilmot Liddell, 27 Legrave Crescent, Camden Town. N W " That must be her uncle; they were all Wilmot Liddells. How to reach his abed" was the question. The inky boy soon gave her the requisite information. "You take a Waterloo 'bus at Piccadilly Circus ; it runs through to Cam- den Town ; that is, to the beginning of Camden Town, '' he said. Ka'herine thanked him, and again set forth. It was a long, tedious drive. The omnibus was crammed with warm passengers and damp umbrellas, but Katherine was too racked with impatience and fear to heed small discomforts Would her dreaded relative order her out of his sight at once ? Was her in- terview with the publisher a good omen ? At last she reached the end of her journey, and addressing herself to the tutelary policeman solemnly pacing past the Tavern where the omnibus paused, she asked to be directed to Legrave Cre.- cent. It was an old-fashioned row of hou-.es, before them a few sooty trees in a half-moon of grass, one side railed off from the street and dignified with gates at either end gates which were always open. Tho place had a still, deserted air. but about the middle stood a cab, on which a rheumatic driver, assisted by a small boy, was A CROOKED PATH. 19 placing- a cumbrous box. As Katharine approached she found that the house before which it stood bore the number she sought, and on reaching it she found the doo held open by a little smutty girl. r,he very lowest type of slavey, with unkempt hair, and a rough ho! land apron of the grimiest aspect. On the top step stood a stout woman, fairly well dressed in a large shawl and a straw bonnet largely decorated with crushed artificial flowers ; a very red, angry race appeared beneath it, with watery eyes and a coarse, half-open mouth. All this Katharine saw, but hardly observed, so strongly was lu-.r attention attracted to a figure that "stood a few paces within the en- trancea tall, thin old man, bent and leaning on a stick. He was wrapped in a long dressing-gown of dull fork gray, evidently much worn ; slippers were on his feet, and a black velvet skull-cap on his head, from under which some thin straggling locks of white hair escaped. His thin aquiline, features and dark sunken eyes were alight with an expression of malignant fury ; one long claw-like hand was outstretched with a gesture of dismissal, the other gr;; the top of his stick. "Begone, you accursed drunken thief !"' he v/as almost screaming in a shrill voice. "I would take you to tho j court if there was anything to be got out of you ; but it would only be throwing good money away after bad." Get you gone to rife ditch where you'll die ! You guzzling, muzzling "fool, to leave my house without a shilling after all your pilfering !" While he uttered these words with frightful vehemence, the woman he addressed kept up a rapid undercurrent of reply. " Living with a miserable serewy miser like you would make a saint drink ! Do you think people "will serve you for nothing, and not pay themselves somehow ? The likes of you are born' to be robbed and may your last crust be stole from you, you old skin- flint !" With this last defiance sho turned and threw herself hastily into the cab, which crawled away as if horse and driver were equally rheumatic. " Shut the door," said the old man, hoarsely, as if exhausted. "Please, sir, there's a lady here,'' said the little slavey. Kathor- ine, who was as frightened as if she were face to face with a lunatic, had a terrible conviction that this appalling old man was her uncle. How should she ever address him ? What an unfortunate time to have fallen upon ! " What do vou want?" asked the old man, fiercely, frowning, till his shaggy white eyebrows almost met over his angry black eyes. ' I want to see Mr. John Wilmot Liddell." 1 Then you see him ! Who are you?" ' Katherine Liddell, your niece."" ' My niece !" with inexpressible contempt and disbelief. " Weii, niece or not, you may serve a turn. Can you read?" ' Yes, of course." * ' Come, then come in." He turned and walked with some diffi- culty to the door of the front parlor. Half bewildered, Katherine followed mechanically, and the small servant shut the front door, putting lip the chain with a good deal of noise. The room to which Katherine was so unceremoniously introduced was of good size, covered with a carpet of which no pattern and 20 A CROOKED PATH. very little eilor were left. The furniture was old-fashioned and Boli'd : a dining-table covered with faded green baize was in the middle, and a writing -tabldwibhsaverai dra.ve.-s w,-n p!a -e.,1 near the fire-place, beside -.vhich s:o >d a high backed l?a:!i T ami chair, old, worn, dirty. A wretched lire was dvingoiU i;i ill gra! . ;il,n :.\st choked by the red ashes of the \ cry cheapest coal. Ail odor of dust long undisturbed per \ad-d th' ar : n isph?iv. and the duii damn weather \vitir>ut add .-d to the extr '.vn gloom Jnde -d the door of this apartment might well liave borne Danle's iiiscrijilioii over the entrance to a wann.T j)iace,. Mr. Liddell went with i'eebie rapidity a TOSS to wh -re a 1 .- newspaper lay upcJn fir; floor, and resting o:u h i .d on the writing- table, stooped painfully to raise it. "There! read read* the. price-list to me. I am Mind and he!| for that jade has hid my glasses. I know she, h:is. I cannot tind them anywhere, and i mn*t. know how Turkish bonds are jroiiij^. Read to me. I'll hv.-ar wlvit you have to say after." lie thrust the paper into her hand, and sat down in the high 'racked chair. Poor Katharine felt almost, dased. She took a seat at th; other side of the table, and began to look for the mysterious list. The geography of the mighty 'i'i ,>!(: was unknown to her. and even in her mother's humbler penny paper the City article was a portion she never glanced at. While she turned the wide pag'es, painfully be- wildered, the old man " glowered " at her. "I don't think you know what you are looking for," he cried, impatiently. " I do not indeed ! If you will show it to me " He snatched it from her, and pointed out the part he wished to hear. "Read from the beginning," he said. Katherine obeyed, her courage returning as she found herself thus strangely installed within the fortress she feared to attack. She stumbled occasionally, and was sharply set upon her feet, in the matter of figures, by "her eager hearer. At last she came to Turkish six per cents. "Eighty -seven to eighty-eight and a quarter." "Ha !" muttered the old' man, " that's an advance ! good ! nothing to be done there yet. Now read the railway stocks." Katherine otsyed. When she came to "Florida ad Teche de- bentures, sixty -two and a half to sixty-five and three-fourths," she wa: startled by a sort of shrill shout". "Ay\th;f> a ris > i S-une ringing design there ! I must write I must. Where, when; has that harridan hid my glasses? Why, it is almost twelve /clock ! the boy will be here for the paper immediately. And the post ! the post ! I must catch the post. Can you write?" ' ' Oh yes ! Shall I write for you f "You shall! you shall! here's pap3r'' rising and opening an ancient blotting-book, its covers all scribbled over with tiny figures, the result of much calculating, hehasrily set forth writing materials, his lean, claw-like, dirty hands trembling with eagerness. " Hear, hear, write fast." Katherine, growing a little clearer, and amazed at her own in- creasing self -possession, drew off her gloves, and taking the rusty pen offered her, wrote at his dictation : A CROOKED PATH. 21 " To Messrs. Rogers & Stokes, Corbett Court, E C. : " GENTLEMEN, Sell all my Florida shares if possible to-day, even if they decline a quarter. "I am yours faithfully " "Now let me come there !" he exclaimed. " I'll let no one sign my name. I'll manage that. There? there ! Direct an envelope. Ofi Lord ! I haven't a stamp not one! and its ten minutes' walk to the post-office." "I think I believe I have a stamp," said Katherine, drawing her slender purse from her pocket and opening it !" "Have you?" eagerly. "Give it tome. Stick it on ! Go ! go ! There is a'pillar ju t outside the left-hand gate there ; and mind you come back. I w'ill give you a panny. Ah, yes, you shall have your penny?" "lliope you will hear me when I return," she said, appjalingly, as she left the room. "Ay, ay ; but go go now." When Katherine returned she found the old man, with the half- opened door in his hand, waiting for her. "Were you in time?" he asked, eagerly. " Oh yes, quite. I saw the postman coming across the road to empty the box as I was dropping the letter in." " That's well. I will rest a bit now, and you can tell me what you please. First, what have you come here for ?" It was an appalling question, and nothing but the simple truth occurred to her as an answer. Indeed, some irresistible power seem- ed to compel the reply, spoken very low and distinct, " I came here to beg." The old man burst into a singularly unpleasant laugh. " "Well, I like candor. Pray what business have you to beg from me?" "Because I know no one else to turn' to because you are so near a kinsman. Let me tell you about my mother." Simply and shortly she gave the history of their life andstraggles, of the coming of her brother's young widow and orphans, of the disappointment of her mother's literary expectations, of the present necessity. The quiver in li or young voice, the pathetic earnestness with which she told her sory, the deep love for her mother breathing through the recital, might well have moved a heart of ordinary coldness, but it seemed to .small impression on hergrim uncle. " You coin3 of a waste r ul extravagant lot," h-3 said, faintly, "if yon arc what vou represent yourself to be of which there is no proof whatever. How do I know you are the daughter of Frederic LicMell?" This was an objection Katherine had never anticipated, and knew not how to me^t. She colored vividly and hesitated ; than, struck with the ghastly pallor of the old man's face, she exclaimed, "You are ill! you are fainting !" drawing near him as she spake. "I am not ill," he gasped. "I am weak from want of food. I have tasted none since yesterday afternoon." " Will you not order some ?' * said Katherine, looking round for a bell. 22 A CROOKED PATH. " There is nothing 1 in the hous",. That drunken robber T have just driven out went orV'to her revels last night and left me without any- thing; but while sir.' was away a tradesman came with a bill I thought was paid, and so I discovered all her iniquity." " You must haw .s.>m. -thing.' 1 cried Katherine, seriously alarmed. " Can I get you some wine or brand/ ?" and she rang hastily. Mr. Liddell drew a bunch of keys from his trousers pocket, and feebly selecting one, put it in her nand, pointing 1 to the sideboard. The first cellaret Katherine op-iuu was quite empty, the opposite one held two empty bottles coveivd with dust, and another, at the bottom of which was about a windlass of brandy. She sought eagerly for and found a glass, and brought it to the fainting man, pouring* out a small quantity, which he sipp d readily enough. '' Ah i" he said, "I was marly gone. I mus. eai. 1 si.ppose that wretched brat can cook something. King again." Kaih.-nnerang, and rang, but in vain. "May I go down and see what has become of her?" "If you please," he murmured, more civilly than he had yet spoken ." Kathorino, with increasing- surprise and interest, descended the dingy stair and entered a chaotic kitchen. Such a scene of dirt and confusion she had never beheld. Nothing seemed fit to touch. The little girl's rough apron lay on the floor in the midst, and she herself was tying on a big bonnet, while a small Imi.dle lay on a chair beside, her. She started and colored when Kaiherine stood in the doorway. " Mr. Liddell has sent me to look for you. He is very ill. Why did you not answer the bell ?" ""Because I was gohr-r away to mother," cried the girl, bursting into tears. " I could not stay here by myself. Mr. Liddell is more like a wild beast than a man when he is angry, and 1 have had a night and a day as would frighten a policemen. I can't stay I can't indeed, miss." " Bnt you must," said Katherine, impressively. "I am Mr. Liddell's niece, and at least you must do a few things for me before you go," " Oh ! if you are here, miss, I don't mind. I can't think as how vou are Mr" Liddell's niece." "I am, and I must not leave him till he is better. What is your name? 1 ' "Susan, ma'am." " Well, Susan, is there any bread or anything in the larder?" " Not a blessed scrap, miss, and I am so hungry "a fresh burst of tears. " Don't cry. Do as I bid you, and then you had better ask your mother to come here. Now" get me some fresh water." " There's only water in the tap ; the hlterer is broke." " Well, give me a jugful. And are vou too hungry to make up the lire?" "I'll manage that, 'm ; we had a hundred of coal in yesterday morning before the row.'' " Then clear away the ashes and get as clear a fire as you can. I will get some food." A CROOKED PATH. 23 The desperate, deserted condition of the old man seemed to rob him of his terrors, and all Katherine's energy was roused to save him from the ill e.fects of his own fury. She hastened back to the dining 1 - room. Mr. Liddell was sitting- up, grasping- the arms of his chair. " There is nothing down-stairs. Will you allow me to go and buy you some food ? You will be ill unless you eat.'' I " Can't that child fetch what is needful?" he said, with an effort. " I am afraid she may not return." " Then you had better go. I'll open the door to you when you come back." " I will go at once. But you must gtve me a little money. I would gladly pay for the things, but I have only my omnibus fare back." " How much do you want?" he returned, drawing forth an old worn green porte-monnaie. " If you will be satisfied with a chop, two shilling's will get all you want," said Katherine. "There, then ; bring me the change and account," he returned, handing her the required sum. Since her mother had become a housekeeper Katherine had done a good deal of the marketing and household management, and had put her heart into her work, as was natural to her. She therefore felt quite competent to make these small purchases. ' ' You will want a little more wine or something 1 , " ehe ventured to suggest. ''I have plenty plenty. MaKe haste !" Katherine called the little girl, told her she was going- out, and promised to bring her back some food. Then she sped on her way to some shops she had noticed on her way, and soon accomplished 'her errand. This necessity for action put her right with hers. 'If, and gave her the courage she needed. With a word to the fainting- old miser, she descended to the chaotic kitchen, where she rejoiced the heart of the small slavey by the sight of the cold beef and bread she had brought for her. Then she set to work to cook the chops she had purchas 1 -!. This done, to the amazement of the little sei'vaut, she ID )!-.('(.! in vaii: for a cloth to spread upon the only battered trav she could find. Sh i was obliged to be content Avith dusting it and placing the result of h ;r cooking between two warm plates thereupon. Then she carried the, vhole up to her starving- relative. Mr. Liddell had fail -u into a doze from exhaustion, and looked quite wolfish when, rousing up. Irs eyes fell upon the sorely needed food. "You have been quick, but it is surely wasteful to cook two chops/' " You will not find them too much, I hope. I am sure you ought to eat both." "I do not know, but the meat is good." He fell to and ate with relish. Katherine asked where she could find some wine for him. He again produced his keys, selected one, and told her to open a door at the end of the room, which she fancied led into another. It was a cupboard, plentifully filled with bottles of various descriptions, from among which, by her patient's direction, she selected OUQ labelled cognac, and gave him some in water. 24 A CROOKED PATH. Katherine sat down and watched the old man demolish both chops with evident enjoyment. Then he paused, drank a little brandy and water, and drew over the plate containing the butter, and smelled it very deliberately. "You have extravagant ways, I am afraid," he said. "This is fresh butter." "That piece only cost fourpence-halfpenny," she said, gravely, " and the little you eat you had better have good." " Fourpence-nalfpenny !" he repeated, and fell into profound medi- tation, from which he broke with a sudden return of anger. " What a double-dyed villain and robber that infernal woman has been ! She told me that prices had risen to such a height that the commonest salt butter was eighteenpence a pound, that every chop was a shil- ling, that that Then breaking off, with an "air of the deepest pathos he exclaimed: "Thirty shillings a week 1 gave her to keep the house, and she has left the butcher unpaid for six months. But / will not pay him. He shall sutler. Why did he trust her? What did you pay for these things?" he ended, abruptly, in a high key. Katherine silently handed him the back of a letter on which she had scribbled doAvn the items. " What is che use of showing me this, when I cannot read when I have no glasses?" he exclaimed, impatiently. "True. I must try and find them for you. Where did you first miss them?" " Oh, I don't know. I had them on when I went to see that woman out of the house." Calling Susan to assist in the search, Katherine looked carefully in the hall, but in vain, when her young assistant gave a cry of joy ; she had almost trodden on them as they lay between a mangy mat and tha foot of the stairs. The recovery of his precious glasses did more to sooth;; tlr> ruffled spirit of the recluse than anything else. He wiped them tenderly, and looking through them, observed that they were all right. Then he sat in profound silence, while Susan, under Katherine's directions, cleared up the hearth, and removed the heap of dust and ashes which had nearly put out th fire. When she had retired, carrying oT rh.- tray, Mr. Liddell turned his keen eyes on his young visitor, a;.d said : " You came in the nick of thime, and you seem to know what you are about'; but 1 dare say I should nave pulled through wkh ML: you. Now about your story. Before anything else I must b sured that you are iva>ly Frederic Liddell's daughter. Kot th;i; your being so gives you the smallest claim upon me." "I suppose it does not," returned Katherine, sadly. " Still, if you could help us with a loan at this trying time it might be the saving 1 of our fortunes, and both my mother and myself would do our best to repay you." " That's but indifferent security," said the miser with a sardonic grin. " I feel sure that my mother's novel will succeed. It is a beautiful story and you know how some of the best books have been rejected A CROOKED PATH. 25 and when it .me one to stay with you ! I cannot bear to think of your being alone." The old man stared at her curiously, and a sort of mocking smile parted his lips. " May I at least 26 A CROOKED PATH. ask Susan if her mother can come? for I am sure th3 girl will nol stay alone." "Very well," he said; "but be sure you do not promise hei money ! She may come here to keep the child company not for my Katharine hastened toquestion Susan, and found that her mother, a char-woman, lived near. She despatched the little girl to fetch h T, and, after some parleying-, agreed to give her half a crown ii she would remain for the night, determining- to pay it herself rather than mention the subject to the ogre upstairs. Then she put her ha: straight and resumed her gloves. " I must bid you good-morn- ing- now," she said. "This mother of Susan's looks a respectable woman, and will not ask you for any money. Will you not let me g-et you some tea and sugar before I go, and some- thing- for " " No !" cried the old man. "I have some tea. It is all that robber left behind her. I want nothing more. Mind you come back to-morrow. If you ai*e my brother's daughter (though it is no recommendation !) I'll do something for you. If you are not, I'd I'd like to give you a piece of my mind." He laughed a fiendish, spiteful laugh as he said this. * "Then accept my thanks beforehand," said Katherine smiling a little wearily. She was very tired. It was an .oppressive day, and she had been under a mental strain of no small severity. Now she was longing to be at home to tell her mother all her strange adventures, and she had yet to find out by what route she should return. Once more she saift good-by. Mr. Liddell followed her to the door, with an air of seeing her safe off the premises, rather than of c .urtesy, and Katherine quickly retraced her-steps to the place whera she had alighted, hoping to fin! that universal referee, a policeman, who would no doubt set her ou her homeward way. CHAPTER in. THE LAWYER'S VISIT. "\VHILE hor young sister-in-law was thus socking fortune in strange s, Mrs. Fred Liddell was spending- a busy and, it must be con- rful morning, preparing for the anticipated visit of ;el Ormonde. It was rather inconsiderate, she thought, of Katherine to go out and leave all the th i extra dusting of Uu drawing-room to her. If she, Katherine, had remained at home sho would have taken ths 3, as she always did, and thva Jane, the house and children'^ -.vould have been able to h -!p. If Katherine would only stay out all day she could forgive her but she would be sure to come 'in for dinner, and so appear at after noon tea, which bv no means suited Mrs. F. Lid iell's views. The Colonel had given so very highly colored a description of the A CROOKED PATH. 27 young lady who was with the little boy so nearly run orer on the previous morning- that the pretty widow's jealousy was aroused. In spite of h?r Mightiness and love of pleasure she had a very keen sense of her o .vu interest, and perceiving- Colonel Ormonde's decided aj >): -elation, she had made up her mind to marry him. \ 'In . she felt, would be more easily designed than accom- ; plishod. Colonel Ormonde was an old soldier in every sense, and an old bachelor to boot, with an epicurean taste for g-pod dhiiiTs and pretty women. He might sacrifice something for th:} first, but the latter were too plentiful and too come-at- able to be worth great cost. Still, it was. generally believed he was matrimonially inclined, and Mrs. Fred thought she might have as goy I'.c.r or not write at all! That will do, I think. That is th j , only strong arm chair in the house ; it will stand nicely beside the sofa. Oh, !i ivo yon come in already, children?" as the two boys pcvp 'd in. "Couldn't Jane have kept you out a little longer ! Don't pt to come in here!" "Jane had to come back to lay the cloth. Mamma, where is aunty;?" "She has not come in yet. Why, dear me, it is nearly ono i o'clock! Go and get off your boots, my darlings, and ask grand- mamma when she expects aunty." Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katharine might return, and, moreover, she vraa getting uneasy. She did not like to say much a tout hs.r errand, for slu know hor daughter-in-law thought but indi Ter -ntly of her vrrithip;. and with an indescribable "crass" dis- like of what she could not do hers. -If, would have been rather pleased than o'hiu-wise to know tli.it a manuscript had be^n rejected. In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. Liddell had found that Katherine had loft the shorter story behind. This rendered her prolonged absence les ; accountable, for she could have interviewed several publishers of three- volume novels in the 28 A CROOKED PATH. time. The poor lady naturally feared that they must have refused even to look at her work, or Katherine would Kave returned. When dinner was over, and four o'clock came, Mrs. Liddell's anxiety rose high ; she could not bear her daughter-in-law's presence, and retired into her own den. " Won't you stay and see Colonel Ormonde? He used to be quite friendly with poor Fred in Indn. and I should like him to see what a nice handsome mamma-in-law J have." said Mrs. Fred, caivssinglv : she rat IK- r liked her mother -in -law, and felt it was as well to be on affectionate terms with her. " No, my dear ; my head is not quite free from pain, and I want to give Katherine something 1 to eat when she comes in ; she will be very hungry. Then I can see that the children do not get into any mischief in the garden." The younger lady then went to pose herself with a dainty piece of fancy work in the drawing-room, and the elder to sit at her writing- table, pen in hand, but not writing ; only thinking round and round the circle of difficulties which hedged her in, and longing for the sight of her daughter's face. At last it beamed upon her through the open door-window which led out on the stairway to the garden ; her approach had 1 by her little nephews, Vho had admitted her through the back gate. " You must not come in now, dears ; I want to talk to grannie. If you keep away I will tell you a nice story in the evening." "My dearest child, what has kept you? I have been uneasy ; and how dreadfully tired you look !" "I am tired, but that is nothing. I think, dear, I have a little good news for you." " Come into the dining-room. I have some dinner for you, and we can talk quietly. Ada is expecting a visitor." But Katherine could not eat until she told her adventures. First she described her interview with Mr. Channing. "It is something certainly to have left my unfortunate MS. in his hands ; still I dare not hope much from that," said Mrs. Liddrll. "Then, mother dear," resumed Katherine, "I vemnivl to do something for which I hope you will not be angry with me- I have found John Liddell ! I have invaded his den ; I Lave spoken to him ; I have cooked a chop for him, as I used for you la-t winter; aiul though I have been sent empty away, I am not without hopes that he will help us out of our difficulties." " Katie, dear, what har? \ ou done?" cried her mother, aghnst. " How did you manage how did you dare "' Whereupon Katherine gave her mother a graphic account of the whole atf'air. "It is a wonderful history." said Mrs. Liddell. "I feel half frightened ; yet if Mr. Li-.ldell's solicitor is an honest, resp. -ctable man he will surely be on our side: at the same time, J am half afraid of falling into John Liddell's clutches. He has th diameter of being a relentless creditor: he will have his pund of lie sii ! If he gives this money as a loan, arid I fail in paving the interest, he will take me by the throat as he \\ or Id the greatest stranger.'' " Why should you fail . :! ' cried Kalherine. " You only want time to succeed. I am sure you will sell your books, and then we can A CROOKED PATH. 29 pay principal arid interest ; besides, old Mr. Liddell could not treat nis brother's widow as he would a stranger." " I am not so sure." "And vou are not angry with me for going to him ?" "No, dear love; I am proud of your courage. Had I known what you intended, I should have forbidden you. I should never have allowed you to run the risk of being insulted : it was too much for you. I wish I eould shield you from all such trials, my Kate ; but I cannot I cannot." The unwonted tears stood in her kind, faded eyes. "Ah," mother, yon have borne the burden and hL'at of the d:iy long enough alone ; I must take my share now, and I assure you, after my adventures to-day, I feel quite equal to do so. I have been too long a heedless idler ; I want to be a real help to you now. Do you think I have done any good?" "Yes, certainly! but everything depends on this man who is coming to-morrow. Your poor father used to know Mr. Lidd^ll's solicitor, and I think liked him ; of course he may have a diltluv.ut one now. Still it is a gleam of hope ; which is doubly sweet because you brought it." Katherine hastily pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and choked down the sob that would swell her throat. She was dread- fully tired, physically and mentally. " Ada asked me for that money this morning as soon as you were gone. I told her I could not return it for a while, and she did not look pleased, naturally enough." "I think she is very selfish," said Katherine. "No, dear, only thoughtless, and younger than her years. Sho is always nice with me, and would be with you if you had more patience. You must remember that no character is scrongcr than its weakest part, and hers is " "Self," put in Katherine. " No ! love of admiration and pleasure," added her mother. "Well," returned Katherine, good-humoredly, "th;y both are very nice." Here the person under discussion came hastily into the room, in the crispest of lilac and white muslins, with a black sash and b nvs, and a rose at her waist, looking as fresh as if the heaviest atmos- phere could not touch her. " Oh, you have arrived, Katherine! I wish you would cnne and see Colonel Ormonde. He wants so much to speak to you !" "But I do not want to speak to him. I don't want to see any one. ' "Do come, Katie! I assure you you h-ive made quite an im- pression ; come and deepen it," cried Mrs. Frederic, w th a p:; sua- sive smile, while she thought, "She is looking awfully bad and pale, and Katherine without color is nowhere ; her eyes are red too. Come, like a dear," she persisted, aloud, " unless you want to go up and beautify." " No, I certainly do not," said Katherine, rising impatiently. " I will go with you for a minute or two, but I am too tired to talk." " Your hair is in utter disorder," remarked her mother. " It is no matter," returned Katherine. following her sister-in-law out of the room. 30 A CROOKED PATH. Her dress was by no moans becoming-. It was of thin black material, the remains of her last year's mourning : the white frill at her throat was cm had by the friction of her jacket, and some splashes on the skirt gave her a travel-stained aspect. But no dis- order could hide the line warm bronze brown of her abundant hair, nor disguise the shape of h -r brows and eyes, though the eyes them- selves lost something 1 of their color from the paleness of her cheeks ; nor did her weariness detract from the charm of her delicate up- turned chin. "Here is my naughty sister-in-law, who has been wandering abou f . all the morning- alone, and making- us quite xineasy." "What ! In search of further adventures eh ?" asked Colonel Ormonde, rising- and making- an elaborate bow He spoke in atone half paternal, naif gallant, in right of which elderly gentlemen sometimes take liberties. " I went to do a commission for my mother," said Katherine, in- differently. " Ah ! if we had a corps of such commisiuonnaires as you are, we should spend our lives sending and receiving messages," retin the Colonel, with a laugh. He spoke in short authoritative s--n- tences, with a loud harsh voice, and in what might be termed i.'u - big bow-wow " style ""You must not believe all Colonel Ormonde says," observed th?, fa ; r widow, smiling and slightly shaking her head. "He is a \ faithless man." "l!y George ! Mrs. Liddell, I don't deserve such a character " j/f". 'But" addressing Katherine, who had simply looked at iriui with quiet, contemplative eyes "I hope, you have recovered from y.;iir fright of yesterday. I never saw eyes or checks express terror so eloquently." "Yes. I was dreadfully frightened, and very, very grateful to the gentleman who saved poor Cecil. I hope he was not hurt?" " !Shall I tell him to come and report himself in person ?" "Xo. thank you." " Wouldn't you like to thank him again? It might be a pleasant process to both parties eh?" Katharine smiled good-humoredly, while she thought, "What an idiot!" " Katherine is a very serious young woman," said Mrs. Frederic "quite too awfully in earnest ; is always striving painfully to do h -r duty. She despises frivolities, and never dreams of flirtation.* 1 This is an appalling description," said Ormonde. "Pray is it on principle you renounce flirtation?" " For a" much better reason," replied Eatherine, wearily. "Be- cause I have no one to flirt with." "By. Jove! there's a state of destitution! Why, it is a blot on societv that you should be left lamenting." "Yes; is -it not melancholy?" replied Katherine, carelessly. "Ada, I am so tired I am sure you will excuse me if I go awa v to rest :'" "Before vou go," said Ormonde, eagerly, "I have a request to make. A chum of mine, Sir James Brereton, and myself are going A CROOKED PATH. 31 tip the river on Thursday, with some friends of Mrs. Liddell's a picnic affair. Your sister-in-law has promised to honor me Avith her company, and I earnestl3 r hope you will accompany her. I promise you shall be induced to rescind your anti-flirtation resolutions." "Up the riveri*" repeated Katherine, with a wistful look, and paused. "On Thursday next? Thank you very much, but I'm engaged quite particularly engaged." "Nonsense, Katie!" cried bar sister-in-law. "Where in the Vorld are you going ? You know you never have an engagement anywhere." " Come, Miss Liddell, do not be cruel. We will have a very jolly day, and I'll try and persuade your hero of vesterday to moef you " " I should like to 2*0 very much, but I really cannot. I thank you for thinking of me.'' She stood up, and. with a slight bow, said, "Good-morning," leaving the room before the stout Colonel could reach the door to open it "Phew ! that was sharp, short, and decisive," said Ormonde. " Yes, wasn't it? She is quite a character. Leave her to me if you wish her to go. I will manage it." "Yes, do. She is something fresh, though she is not so handsome as I thought. I suspect there is a strong dash of the devil in her." " I cannot say 7 have seen much of it," said the voting widow, frank- ly. She was extremely shrewd in a small way," and had adop'ed an air of candid good-nature as best suited to her style and complexion. " Handsome or not, if you would like to have her at your party, I will try to porsuade her to come." ' ' Thanks. What a little brick you are ! " said Ormonde, admiringly. " Xo nonsense with you, or trying to keep a pretty girl out of it. " I say, Mrs. Liddell, it must be an awful life for you, shut up in this stuffy suburban box?" " Well, it is not cheerful ; but I have no choice, so I just make the best of it," she returned, with as bright a smile as she could muster. " No use spoiling one's eyes or one's temper over the inevi- table. Then lam really fond of my mother-in-law, poor soul ! She woiTld spoil me if she'had the means ; and Katherine well, she isn't bad." "By George! if you make your mother-in-law fond of you, you must be an angel incarnate " " An angel !" echoed the little lady. "That would never do. No v no ; it is because I am so desperately human I get on with them all.'' "Delightfully human, you mean. No hous3 could be duli with you in it. The're's nothing like pluck and good-humor in a woman.' " Well, Heaven knows I want both !" " I am afraid I must be off," said the Colonel. " I am going to dine with Eversley, and he has a villa at Rochampton quite a journey, you know. Where is the little chap that was near! v rim over ?' f " Playing in the garden, very happy and very dirty. I dare not nave him in he always climbs up and hangs about rne, for I have my best dress on !" the last words in large capitals. " A deuced becoming dress too ; but it's not go fine as what you *d on yesterdav." 32 A CROOKED PATH, " No, of course not ; there are degrees of best dress. Yesterday's was my very best go-to-luncheon dress, and must last me a whole year." "A year! By Jove ! And you always look well dressed! You arc, a wonderful woman ! Now I must be off. Mrs. Burnett says she will send the carriage for you on Thursday. We drive down to Twickenham." " till, thank you, Colonel Ormonde ! I am sure I am indebted to you f >r that lift," said Mrs. Frederic, while she thought, " He might have driven me down himself." " A " r.-roh; then. Always hard to tear myself away from such a charming- little witch as you are." Ormonde kissed her hand and departed. "Jolly, plucky little woman," he thought, as he walked toward the Bavswater Road, looking for a hansom. "Just the sort to save a man trouble, and get full value out of a sovereign." He con- tinued to mus3 on the wonderful discovery he had made of a woman perfectly planned, accord ing to man's ideal sweet, yielding, tenderly sympathetic, willing and capable to ward off all annoyances from her master, full of feeling for his troubles, and not to be moved by her own to sad looks, unbecoming tears, or downcast spirits all soft- ness to him, all bristling sharpness to the rest of the world. " Such a woman would answer my purpose as well as a woman with money, and slia is an uncommonly tempting morsel. But then those infernal boys ! I am not going to provide for another fellow's brats, and they can't have more than sixty pounds between them fromthe fund ! Ko ; I must not make an ass of myself, even for a pretty, clever woman, who has rather a hankering for myself, or I am much mis- taken. That sister-in-law of hers is the making of an uncommon fine woman. There's a dash of a tragedy queen about her, but it will be good fun to play her against the "widow." And the widow, as she rang for the house-maid to remove the tea- things, indulged in a few speculations on her side. "He was evi- dent iy disappointed with Katherine. I am not surprised. She is looking ill, and she has such ungracious manners ! Of course she will come to this Richmond party when I ask her, and I must ask her. Ormonde is a good deal smitten with me, but he'll not lose his head. It is an awful thing to be poor and to have two boys. Oh, how dreadful it is to live in this horrible dull hole ! I wonder if Col'.iiiel Ormonde willever propose for me! Heis very nice and pleasant, but he, is awfully selfish. I hate selfishness. Perhaps if Mrs. Liddell would undertake to keep the little boys altogether it might make matters easier. Poor children ! if I were only rich I would never wish to part with them ; but who can hold out against poverty ?" The night which followed was sleepless to "Mrs. Liddell. How could she close her eyes when so much depended on the visit she hoped to re- ceive to-morrow ? If this agent of JohnLiddell's was propitious, she might get breathing-time and be able to wait till her manuscript broughtforthsomefruit; ifnot well she dared not tk ink of the reverse. She listened to the soft, regular breathing of her daughter, who was wrapped in refreshing slumber, and thanked God for the quick for- e-etfulness of youth. It was like a fresh draught of life and hope to A CROOKED PATH. 33 think of her courage and perseverance in finding oufc and affronting her miserly uncle. Good must corne of it. Day dawned bright and clear, and the little party met as usual at breakfast. Neither mother nor daughter had breathed a word of tii 'ir hopes or fears to the pretty widow. Breakfast over, they all dispersed to their usual avocations. Katherine, down-stairs, was consulting cook, and Mrs. Liddell was wearily sorting and tearing 1 to], i ap.-.rs, when the servant came into the study and said, " Please, 'm, there's a gentleman wanting you ' " Wheae have you put him ?" asked Mrs. Liddell, glancing at the card presented to her, on which was printed, "Mr. C. B. Newton, 26 Manchester Buildings." "He is by the door, 'm." " Oh, show him into the dining-room. Where is Mrs. Frederic?" "Gone out, 'm." "I will come directly," and Mrs. Liddell hastily locked a drawer and put a weig-ht on her papers 1 "Tell Miss Liddell to come to me," she said as she passed. A short, thick -set man of more than middle age, slightly bald, with an upturned nose, quiet, watchful eyes of no particular c ;lor, ami small sandy mutton chop whiskers, was standing near the win- dow wi: ;i she entered. He made a quick bow, and stepped nearer "Mrs. Liddell ;" he asked. "Yes, 1 am Mrs Liddell. "I have called on the part of my client, Mr. John Liddell, of Legrave Crescent, to make certain 'inquiries This note, which I received from him yesterday afternoon, will explain the object' of my visit." ' Pray sit down, Mr. Newton "taking a chair as she spake, while she read the small, crabbed, tremulous characters Avritten on. the page presented to her. The note contained directions to call on Mrs. LiddJ! arid ascertain if she really was the widow of his late brother ; also what security she could offer for a small loan. Her color rose faintly as she read. " You must not regard the plainness of business phi-ar ifl ,-y," said the visitor, in dry, precise tones. " My client means no oversee." " Nor do I mean to take any," she replied, handing him back the note. "Pray how am I to prove rny own identity r"' It would not, I suppose, be very difficult ; but, as it happens, / c;:n 1>3 your witness. I quite well remember seeing you with ?.:r ;,kklell, your late husband, some sixteen or seventeen years a.v.'o r "indeed! I am surprised that I do not recall you. I generally h:i\v, a good memory, but' " i am not surprised. I was unhappily the bearer of an unpleas- ant message, which excited Mr. Liddell considerably, and your attention was absorbed by your efforts to calm him " "1 remember," said Mrs. Liddell, coloring deeply. "It was a trying tim,>. :> " We will consider this inquiry answered. As regards the loan '* the door opening to admit Katherine interrupted him ; he rose and bowed formally when her mother named her ; then he resumed 34 A CROOKED PATH. his sentence "as regards the loan, I must first know the amount it is proposed to borrow, in order to judge of the security oftbred." "I asked my uncle for thirty poun is, but I should be very glad if he would lend us forty." "No, Katie; I dare not take so much," interrupted her mother. "Remember, it must be repaid ; and," addressing 1 the lawyer, she added, " the only security I have to oiif'er is the furniture of this house furniture of the simplest, as you wiil see." "Have you seen Mr. LiddeH?" asked Mr. Newton, a slight expres- sion of surprise passing over his face. " My daughter has," said Mrs Liddell. "Yes ; I ventured to visit him, because'' she hesitated, and then went on, frankly " because we wanted this money very much in- deed; and I found him in a sad condition." Katherine went on to describe the scene of yesterday, dwelling on the desolate position of the old man. "I felt frightened to leave him alone ; he seems v. cak, and unfit to take care of himself. I hope, Mr. Newton, you will go to him and induce him to have a proper servant. I am going, lie- cause I promised in any case to-go ; and I must give the little ser- vant's mother the half-crown I promised her." "I have been somewhat uneasy respecting Mr. Liddell. For a considerable time I had my doubts of his cook housekeeper ; but he is a man of strong will and peculiar views. Then the fear of parh'ii with money increases with increasing years. I am glad Miss Lid- dell succeeded in making herself known to him; ho is a p:-c-i!!';i.r character very peculiar." He paused a moment, looking k'vi.ly at Katherine, and added : " With a view to arranging for the- lean you require, I must ask to look at your rooms. I do not suppose I am a judge of such things, but the knowledge of former transactions, mv recollection of our last interview, determines me to come my sou rather than to send an ordinary employe." " I feel your kind consideration warmly," said Mrs. Liddell. "Follow me, and you shall see what few household goods I possess." Gravely and in silence Mr. Newron was conducted to the drawing- room, the best bedroom, Mrs. Liddell's, and the children's ro The examination was swiftly accomplished. Then thes (tare lawyer returned to the dining-room and began to put on his ri.^iit hand glove. "I presume," he said " it is a mere formal qn ; : io;. 1 pre- sume there is no claim or lien upon your goods and chattels?" "None whatever, I want a little temporary help until' She paused. "My mother has been successful in writing short stories. Cl ning & "VVyndham have a three-volume novel of hers now, a*,d I am sure they will take it ; then she can pay Mr. Liddell easily." The lawyer smiled a queer little whin-red, half-developed smile. "I trust your anticipations may be verified," he said. "Now, my dear madam, I need intrude on' you no longer ; I shall go on to see. Mr. Liddell. But though I shall certainly represent that he may safely make you this small advance, it is possible he may refuse; and it is certain he will ask high interest. However, I shall do my best." A CROOKED PATH. 35 "It will be a great accommodation if he consents. And if he is rich surely he will not deal as hardly with his brother's widow as with a stranger." " Where money is concerned, Mr. Liddell recognizes neither friend nor foe. He will wish some form of the nature of a bill of sale to be signed." " Whatever you both think right," said Mrs. Liddell. Here some shouts from the garden drew Newton's attention to the window, throiigh which Cecil and Charlie could be seen endeavoring to put some noxious insect on the neck of the nurse-maid, who had taken them their noonday slices of bread and butter. "My grandsons," said Mrs. Liddell, smiling ''My poor boy's orphans." "Hum !" said the little man ; and he stood a moment in thought. "1 think Miss Liddell said her uncle expressed a wish that she should return to see him?" "He made me promise to go back to-day." " Then by no means disappoint him. He is a very difficult man to manage, and if your daughter" to Mrs. Liddell "could con- trive to interest him, to make him indulge in a few of the comforts necessary to his years and his position, it would be of the last im- portance, and ultimately, I hope, not unprofitable to herself." "I fear the last is hig*hly improbable ; but Katherine will certainly fulfil her promise." " I am going to drive over to Legrave Crescent myself : if it would suit Miss Liddell to accompany me, I shall be most happy to be her escort." "Thank you ; I shall be very glad." " My brother-in-law will not imagine there is any collusion be- tween' you?" asked Mrs. Liddell, with a smile. " Men of his char- acter are suspicious." " No ; I think I may venture so far, though Mr. Liddell is sus- picious." " Then I must ask you to wait while I put on my hat," said Kath- erine, and left the room. She had changed her dress when her mother followed her. "My love, you had better take a few shillings, and try and come back soon. Why, Katie, considering you had to do cooking yesterday, you ought not to have put on your best frock, dear, for I see little chance of another." " Oh, mother, I could not go out in my old black cashmere with Mr. Newton. Why, he is the perfection of neatness." "Here is Ada, just coming in." "What a vollev of questions she will ask ! Now, mother, do not satisfy her. Telf her my rich uncle has sent his solicitor to inter- view us, and that I am going to dine with him. I wish I could have had some dinner before I went, for I am going to Hungry Hall." "Courage, darling! If we can got this loan it will be a great .relief. Do not keep him waiting any longer there are your gloves. Come back as soon as ever you can." 36 A CROOKED PATH. CHAPTER IV- "A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS." " WHERE in the world is Katherine going, and who is that man ?" exclaimed the younger widow, her light blue eyes wide open in amazement, when Katherine had passed her with a smiling " Good- by for the present," and walked down the road beside the precise lawyer. " She is going- to her uncle, Mr, John Liddell, who expressed a wish to see her to-day, and that gentleman is Mr. Liddell's solicitor," retumed the elder lady, smiling to think how soon she had been driven in upon the reserved force of her daughter's suggestion. " What ! that terrible old miser poor Fred used to talk of:- 1 Why, he will take a favorable turn, and leave everything to Katie ! Oh, dear Mrs. Liddell, that will not be fair Do contrive to let him see Cis and Charlie. We will declare that Cecil is his very image. Old men like to be considered like pretty young creatures. I al \\ays get on with crabbed old men. Let nu- see him too. Katherine must not keep the game all in her own hands. Let me have a chance." "I don't fancy Katie has much of a chance herself," returned Mrs. Liddell, as she followed her daughter-in-law into the dining-room. " It is an old man's whim, and he will probably never wish to see her again." "Very likely. You know dear Katherine does not do herself jus- tice ; her manners are so abrupt. You do not mind m^- saying so?" " Not in the least." Mrs. Liddell had a fine temper, and also a keen sense of humor. Though fond of and indulgent to her daughter- in-law, she saw through her more clearly than Katherine did, as she gave full credit for the good that was in her, in spite of her little foibles and greediness. "Katherine is much more abrupt than you are. " " Exactly. She will never be quite up to her dear mother's mark. Few step-mothers and daughters get on as we do, and I am sure you would look after poor Fred's boys as if they were your own." " So would Katherine. Of that you may be sure, my dear." " Oh yes ; she is very fond of tHem, especially Charlie. I do not think she is reallv just "to Cecil." "Real justice is rare," returned Mrs. Liddell, calmly. " There is a note for you, Ada, on the chimney-piece ; it came just after you went out." " Why, it is from Mrs. Burnett !" pouncing on it and tearing it open. " What shall I do?" she almost screamed as she read it. " I am afraid I shall never get there in time. What o'clock is it? my watch is never right. Half-past twelve, and luncheon is at half-past one. Oh, I must manage it f Read that, dear. Jane ! Jane ! bring me some hot water immediately, and come help me to dress. What Is the cab fare to Park Terrace ? Eighteenpence ? it can't be so much. Just lend me a shilling ; you can take it out of the ten pounds you are to pay me next week." And she flew out of the room. A CROOKED PATH. 37 "Mrs. Liddell sat down with a sigh, and read the note which caused this excitement : "DEAR MRS. LIDDELL, Do help me inadilemma ! We haveabox for Miss St. Germaine's benefit matinee to-morrow, and Lady Alice Mordaunt wants to come with Fanny andBea. You know she is not out yet. Now I am engaged to go with Florence to Lady McLean's garden party at Twickenham. So may I depend on you to come and c!np;jron them ? If it were my own girls only, they could go with Ormonde or any one. But Lady Alice is to be escorted to our house by that incarnation of propriety", Mr. Errington ; so they must have a "chaperon. I therefore depend on you. Luncheon at 1.30. Do not fail. Ever yours affectionately. E. BURNETT." Mre. Liddell folded up the epistle and placed it in its envelope ; then she sat musing. How cruel it would be to break this butterfly on the wheel of bitter circumstance ! It would be irrational, she thought, ' to expect the strength that could submit to and endure the inevitable from her. She will at once suffer more and less than my Katie. Small exterior things will sting Ada and make her miserable. As long as Katherine's heart is satisfied all else can be borne ; but her conditions are more difficult. Heigho ! for material ills there is nothing so intolerable as debt." She rose and went to her room with the vague intention of doing some of the hundred and one things which needed doing, one more than another, as was usual in her busy life, but somehow the uncertainty and anxiety oppressing her heart made her incapable of continued action ; she was always breaking off to think and the more she thought, the more uneasy she grew. If she had worked out the thin vein of in- vention and observation which gained her her humble literary suc- cess, one source of income was gone a source on which she had reckoned too surely. Then she had not anticipated that her daughter- in-law would be so expensive an inmate. Self-denial was a thing incomprehensible to her. As long as she took care of her clothes, and refrained from buying the very expensive garments her soul longed for, she considered herself most exemplary. As for the smaller savings of omnibus and cabs not absolutely needful, she rarely thought of such matters, or, if she did, it made'her frightfully cross, and urged Jier to many spiteful and contemptuous remarks on girls who have the strength of a horse, and do not care what horrid places they tramp through : so that she never was able to lighten the household burdens by a farthing beyond the very small amount shfi had originally agreed to contribute toward them. Her mother-in-law's meditations were interrupted by the young widow skurrying in in desperate haste. " Jane has gone for a cab, she exclaimed ; " have you that shilling?" " Here ; you had better have eighteen pence, in case" " Oh yes," I had better ; and do I look nice?" " Very nice indeed. I think you are looking so much better than you did last year ' " That is because I go out a little ; I delight in the theatre. Now I must be off. There is the cab oh ! a horrid four-wheeler. Good- by, de 38 A CROOKED PATH. Mrs. Burnett was the wife of a civilian high up in the Indian ser- vice, and was herself a woman of good family. She had come home in the previous winter in order to introtkice" her eldest daughter to society, and accidentally meeting Mrs. Frederic Liddell, whom she had known in India, was graciously pleased to patronize her. She had taken a handsome furnished house near Hyde Park, and kept it freely open during the season. Admission to such an establishment was a sort of " open sesame " to heaven for the little widow. She ]ovt j d, she adored Mrs. Burnett and her dear charming girls, to say nothing of two half-grown sons, "the most delightful boys !" She was really fond of them for the time, and it was this touch of tem- porary sincerity that gave her the unconscious power to hold the hearts of Mrs. Burnett and her daughters. She was quite the pet of the family, and always at their beck and call. To keep this position she strained every means ; she even de- nied herself an occasional pair of gloves in order to tip the stately man-servant who opened the door and opened her umbrella occas- sionally for her. She found the wjiole party assembled in the dining-room, and her entrance was hailed with acclamations. "I had just begun to tremble lest you should not come," cried Mrs. Burnett, stretching out her hand, but not rising from her seat at the head of the table. " 1 only had your note half an hour ago," said Mrs. Liddell, with pardonable inaccuracy, feeling her spirits rise in the delightful at- mosphere, flower-scented, and stirred by the laughter and joyous chatter of the "goodlie companie." A long table set forth with all the paraphernalia of an excellent luncheon was surrounded by a merry party, the girls in charming summer toilettes, and as many men as women. Men, too, in the fresiiest possible attire, all "on pleasure bent." "Do you know us all?" asked Mrs. Burne't, looking round. "Yes, I think all but Lady Alice Mordaunt and Mr. Kirby." " I have never had the pleasure of meeting Lady Alice "Mordaunt before "with a graceful little courtesy "but Mr. Kirby, though h? has forgotten me, I remember meeting him at Rumchuddar, when I first went out to my poor dear papa. Perhaps you remem- ber him Captain Dunbar, at ?" Thus said Mrs. Liddell, as she glided into her seat between one of the Burnetts and a tall, big, shapeless-looking man with red hair, small sharp 'eyes, a yellow - ochreish complexion, and craggy temples, who had risen courteously to make room for her. " God bless my soul !" he exclaimed, turning red a dull deep red. "I remember perfectly that is, I don't remember nou ; I remem- be/ your father. I'm sure I do not know how I could have forgotten you. ' with a shy, admiring glance. 'Xor I either," cried Colonel Ormonde, who sat opposite. "Thouirh Mrs. Liddell does not seem to remember me.'" " 'Whv, I only saw you yesterday, and I am sure I bowed to you as I cam.- in." "So saying, Mrs. Liddell lifted her head with a sweet caressing smile to the eldest of the Burnett boys, who himself brought her some pigeon pie ; and from that moment she devoted A CROOKED PATH. 39 herself to her new acquaintance, utterly regardless of the hitherto tenderly cultivated Colonel. Kirby, a newly arrived Indian magistrate, was not given to con- versation, but he was assiduous in attending to his fair neighbor's want's, and seemed to like listening to her lively remarks. Colonel Ormonde glanced at them from time to time ; he was amazed and indignant that Mrs. Liddell could attend to any one save himself. He was rather unfortunately placed between" Miss Burnett, whose attention was taken up by Sir Ralph Brereton, a marriageable baronet, who sat on her other side, and Lady Alice Mordaunt, a timid, colorless, but graceful girl, still in the school- room, who scarcely spoke at all, and if she did, always to her right- hand neighbor, a stately -looking man with grave dark eyes, which saved him from being plain, and a clear colorless brown complexion. He said very little, but his voice, though rather cold, was pleasant and rolined, conveying the impression that he was accustomed to be heard with attention. He too was very attentive to Lady Alice, but in a kind, fatherly way, as if she were a helpless creature under his care. " I believe we are quite an Indian party," said Mrs. Burnett, look- ing down the table "Of course my children are Indian by inhari- tauce ; then there are Mr Kirby and Mr. Errington" nodding t .the dark man ne.xt Lady Alice "and Colonet Ormonde." " I am not Indian, you know ; I was only quartered in India for a few years," returned Ormonde, contradictiously " And I was only a visitor for one season's tiger-shooting," said Brereton. " And I do not want to go, " cried Tom Burnett ; " I want to be an attache. " "Oh yes; you speak so many languages!" said his younger sister. " I certainly do not consider myself an old Indian," said the man ad iresscd as Errington, " though I have visiied it more than once." " You an Indian !' r cried Orm nde. " Why, you have just started as an English country gentleman. We are to have Errington for a comrade on the bench and in the field down in Clayshire. His father ha. f bought Garston Hall quite close to Melford, Lady Alice. But I suppose you know all about it." " Yes/ said Lady Alice, in a one wliich might be affirma- tion or interrogation. "There are such pretty walks in Garston Woods !" " Errington was born with a silver spoon in his mouth," returned Ormonde. " Garston dwarfs Castleford, I can tell you. It was a good deal out of repair the Hall I mean ?" " It is. We do not expect to get it into thorough repair till winter Then I hope, Mrs. Burnett, you will honor us by a visit," said Errington. " Wi h the greatest pleasure," exclaimed the hostess. " And oh, Mr. Errington, do give a ball !" cried Fanny, the second daughter. "I fear that is beyond my powers. I do not think I ever danced in my life." 40 A CROOKED PATH. "Are you to be of the party on board Lord Melford's yacht ?" asked Ormonde, speaking- to Lady Alice. " Oh no. I am to stay with Aunt Harriet at the Rectory all the summer." "Ah, that is too bad. You'd like sailing- about, I dare say ?" " Oh, yachting 1 must be the most delightful thing- in the world," cri-'d Mrs. Liddell, from her place opposite. " If I were you I should co;r MI v father to let me g-o. " i . ! knows best. I am very fond of the Rectory," said Lady Alice, ashing- at being- so publicly addressed. "And ,'>n understand the beauty of obedience," said Errington, with g-rave approval. "Now, if you intend to see the whole ' fun of the fair,' " said Mrs. Burnett, " you had better be going, young- people. The carriage is to come back for us after setting you down at the theatre. Who are going? My girls, Lady Alice" and Mrs. Liddell? Who is to be their escort ? Colonel Ormonde ?" He glanced across the table. Mrs. Liddell sent no glance in his direction ; she again devoted her attention to Kirby. " No, thank you. To be intensely amused from two to six is more than I can stand besides, I hope to meet you at Lady Maclean's this afternoon." " I have an engag-ement, a business engagement at three," said Errington ; " but I shall be happy to call for these ladies and see them home." "You need not take that trouble," said Mrs. Burnett. " My son will be in the theatre later, and take charge of them ; but there is still a place in the box. Will you go, Mr. Kirby ?" "Oh, pray do !" cried Mrs. 'Liddell. "You will be sure to be amused ; a matinee of this kind is great fun. There is singing and dancing and acting and recitations of all kinds." She spoke in her liveliest manner and her sweetest tones. ' ' You are very good. I have not been in a theatre since I arrived ; so if you really have a place for me, I shall be most happy to accom- pany "you." "That's settled. Go and put on your hat.s, my dears," said Mrs. Burnett ; and her daugnters, with Lady Alice, left the room. " Well. Mrs. Liddell, have you persuaded your handsome sister-in- law to join our party on Thursday ?" asked Ormonde. " I have really had no time to speak much to her. An old uncle of hers, as rich as a Jew and a perfect miser, sent his lawyer for her this morning. I suppose he is going to make her his heiress. I hope they will give a share to my poor little boys. I am going to take them to ask a blessing from their ao:ed relative, I assure you." " Oh yes, by George ! you try and hold on to him. The little fel- lows ought to have the bigg-est share, of course, as the w/>/>r//-'.n grasp of untoward circumstances into a querulous, bitter, ciisaj.',. /mad man, rewarding all her efforts to keep their heads above water by sarcastic complaints of her narrow stinginess, venting on her the remorseful consciousness, unacknowledged to himself, that his reverses were the result of his own reckless extravagance. Perhaps to her true heart the crudest pain of all was the gradual dying put, or rather killing out, of the love she once bore him, the vanishing, one by one, of the illusions she cherished respecting him, till she saw the man as he really was, weak, unstable, self-indulgent, incapable of true manliness. Still she was patient with him to the last ; and when she was relieved by friendly death from the charge of so wil- ful and ungrateful a burden though things were easier, because hers was the sole authority it was a constant strain to provide the 42 A CROOKED PATH. \ education necessary for her boy. But that accomplished, she had a sweet interlude with her daughter in humble peace, and while she did her best to arm the child for the conflict of life, she avoided weakening herself by too much thought for her future. This spell of ivoose was broken by the necessity for sacrificing some of ner small capital to set her son free from his embarrassments. Then came his death and her present experiment in housekeeping 1 in order to give his widow and children a refuge. For the last four or five years she had made a welcome addition to her small income by her pen, contributing to th smaller weekly periodicals stories and sketches ; for Mrs. Liddell had seen much with keen, observant eyes, and had a fair share of humor. This small success had tempted her to spend several months on a three- volume novel, thereby depriving herself of present remuneration which shorter, lighter tales had brought in. She sorely feared this ambitious step was a mistake that she had over-estimated her own powers. She feared that she could never manage to keep up the very humble establishment she had started. Above all, she feared that her own health and physical force were failing. It was such an effort to do much that formerly was as nothing. That attack of bronchitis last spring had tried her severely; she had never felt quite the same since. And if shc> were called away, what would become of Katherine? Never A\as there a dearer "daughter than her Katie. She knew every turn, every light and shade in her nature her faults, her pride and hastiness" her deep, tender heart. A sob rose in her throat at the idea of Katherine being left alone to engage single-handed in the struggle for existence. No ! She would live ! she would battle on with poverty and difficulty till Katherine was a few years older ; till she was stronger and better able to stand alone. " Yet she is strong and brave for nineteen," thought the mother, proudly. "Perhaps I have kept her too much by my side. I wish I could let her pay a visit to the Mitchells. They have asked her re- peatedly ; but we must not think of it at present." Here her little grandsons, who had more than once broken in upon her musings, came running across the grass to inform her they were sure it was tea-time, as they were very hungry. " Then we shall go home," said Mrs. Liddell, immediately clearing her face of its look of gloom, and rising to accompany them, cheered by the thought that perhaps Katie's dear face might'be ready towel- come her. But neither daughter nor daughter-in-law awaited her. and a couple of hours went dlowly over slowly and wearily, for shefortvd herself to tell the boys a couple of thrilling tales, before they went to bed, to keep them quiet and cool. Then, with promises that both mamma and auntie should come and kiss them as soon as they re- turned, she dismissed the little fallows. It was past seven when Katho/ Ine at last appeared at the garden gate. " I am so glad you have come in before Ada," cried Mrs. Liddell, embracing her. "Are you very tired, dearest?" " No, not nearly so tired as yesterday ; and, mother dear, I think that strange old man will certainly give us the money." A CROOKED PATH. 43 "Thank God ! Tell me all about your day." "It was all very funny, but not terrible, like yesterday. My uncle seems determined to make a cook of me. He would not let them buy or prepare any food for him, except a cup of tea and some toast, until I came. How that frail old man can exist upon so little nourishment I cannot imagine ; but though I seem to give him satisfaction, he does not express any. While he and Mr. Newton talked I was sent to look at the condition of the rooms upstairs. Such a condition of dust and neglect you could not conceive. Oh, the gloom and misery of the whole house is beyond de- scription !" " Did you get anything- to eat yourself?" asked Mrs. Liddell. "Yes; Mr. Newton, who is really kind and friendly under his cool, precise exterior, sent for some cakes. He staid a g-ood while I think he has a good deal of influence on Mr. Liddell. (I can hardly call him uncle.) He was more polite when Mr. Newton was present When he was going away he said, 'I am happy to say I have con- vinced Mr. Liddell that you are his niece, and if you and your mother will call upon me at noon to-morrow, the loan you wish for can be arranged, if you will agree to certain conditions, which I should like to explain both to you and to Mrs. Liddell.' He -ave me his card. Here it is. He has written ' twelve to one ' on it." " They must be very hard conditions if we cannot agree to them,'* said Mrs. Liddell, taking- out her porte-monnaie and putting- the card into it. " This is indeed a Godsend, Katie, dear. I am thank- ful you had the pluck to attack the old lion in his den." "Lion ! Hyena rather. Yet I cannot help feeling- sorry for him. Think of passing- away without a soul to care whether vou live or die without one pleasant memory !" "His memories are anything- but pleasant," returned Mrs. Lid- dell, gravely. "His wife, of whom I believe he was fond in his own way, left him when their only child, a son, was about ten years old. This seemed to turn his blood to gall. He took an unnatural dislike to his poor boy, and treated him so badly that he ran away to sea. Poor fellow? he used sometimes to write to your father. Their mutual dislike to John Liddell was a kind of bond between them. It is an unhappy story, for, as I told you, he was afterward killed at the gold diggings. "Very dreadful r said Katherine, thoughtfully. " What a cruel voting of the mother's sin on the unfortunate child ! that horrible bit of the decalogue ! With all his icy cold selfishness Mr. Liddell is a gentleman. His voice is refined, and except when he was car- ried away by hi-> fury against his roguish housekeeper he seems to have a certain self-respect. After Mr. Newton went away I read for R Inno* Hmfi all thft mnnp.v arfinloa in t-nrn nan n TT r\o r./->~n < tu m- hope you know more of the value of money than either your father or mother.' I could not let that pass, and said, 'My father died when I was too young to know him ; but no one could manage money better nor with greater care than my mother.' He staredat me. ' I am glad to hear it, ' he returned, very dryly. He had a note 44 A CROOKED PATH. from his stock-broker in reply to one I wrote for ' im yesterday. He seemed greatly pi.-a.sed with 'it. He kept chuckling 1 and murmuring 1 , 'Just in time* just in time !'" "Perhaps he will fancy you bring 1 him luck." " J am awfully afraid lu j will want me to go and read to him every day, for when I was directing one of the letters he said, as though to himself, ' If she can read and write for me 1 need not buy a new pair of spectacles.' It would be too dreadful to be with that" cynical hyena every day." " Oh, when he gets a good servant he will not want you." "I hope not." "Now come, you must have your supper, dear I am sure you have earned it. ' We will have it quietly together before Ada comes back. I feel so relieved, I shall be able to eat now." CHAPTER V. "INTO THE SHADOWS." To avoid Mrs. Frederic Lidd ell's almost screaming 1 curiosity was not easy, and to appease it Kate assumed an air of frankness, saying that she believed Mr Liddell merely wished to test her powers as secretary, and that sh,' hoped she h id not succeeded too well. " Oh, you lazy thing ! You really ought to try and get in with him. Oughtn't she, Mrs. Liddell :'" "Yes, certainly, if she can ; but I fancy it will not be so easy. What are you going to do to-day, Ada ?'' "Oh, nothing" in a rather" discontented tone. "Whv do you ask?" " Because I am obliged to go into town on a matter of business, and 1 want to take Karherine." " Well, I *a'l look after the boys " condescendingly, as if it were not her legitimate business. " .But I really thip.k you worry too much about those tiresome publishers. They would think more of you if you troubled them less. Your mother "looks pale and fagged, Katherine." "Yes, she does indeed," looking anxiously at her. " I am afraid the publishers would leave me too utterly undisturb- ed if I left them alone," returned Mrs. Liddell, smiling, and leaving the suggestion uncontradicted. This conversation took place at breakfast. Mother and daughter made the joiinvy cityward very silently, both a good deal occupied conjecturing what "conditions John Lid- dell could possibly mean to impose. Perhaps only a very high rate of interest, which would cost no small effort to spare from their nar- row income. Mr. Newton i-eceived his visitors directly their names were sent up to him. His was an eminent tirm ; their offices, light, clean, well furnished, an abode which impressed those who entered with the idea of fair dealing, and forbade the notion of dark dusty corners moral or physical. A. CROOKED PATH. 45 Katherlne's quick eyes took in the aspect of the place : the book- shelves, where stores of legal learning 1 in calf-bound volumes were ranged ; the various brown tin boxes with names in white paint suggestive of the title-deeds "of all the land"; the big knee-hole table loaded with papers ; the heavy chairs upholstered in the best leather for the patients who came to be treated ; and Mr. Newton himself, more intensely cleaned up and starched than ever, in an oaken seat of mediaeval form. He rose and set chairs for Mrs. Liddell and her daughter himself ; then he rustled among his papers, and spoke down a tube. " Ahem ! " he began. " Your brother -in law, madam, is a man of peculiar character, but by no means without discrimination. Thank you" to a clerk who 'brou^rhi in a long folded paper and laid it beside him, disappearing i.ickly. "By no means without discrim- ination," repeated Mr. Newton. " Unfortunately the love of money grows on a childless man, and his terms for th loan you require may not meet your approbation." "Pray what are they?" asked Mrs. Liddell. " My client will accept a bill of sale on your fur iture as security, but lie will give you a period of eighteen "months to repay him, and he will charge ten per cent. : but if you agree to another condition, which I will explain, he will be content with five per cent." 'This must be a severe condition," said Mrs. Liddell, with a slight smile,. " No ; it may prove a fortunate condition," said the lawyer, with some hesitation. "In short, I have persuaded Mr. Liddell to allow me to choose him a respectable servant at fair wages. The state into which he has fallen is deplorable. I felt it my duty to remonstrate with him, and he is not averse to my influence. I therefore pressed upon him the necessitv of having a better class of housekeeper, a person who could read to him and write for him, and would be above drink and pilfering." "What did he say to that?" asked Katherine, with a bright, amused look. "He said, very decidedly : ' I will have that girl you say is my niece to be my housekeepeV and reader. She gave me the best and cheapest dinner I ever ate ; her letter to my stock -broker brought me luck and I will pay ready money for every thing, so she shall not be able to leave books unpaid. If she comes I will be content with five per cent, on the loan, which must do instead of salarv ; and if she refuses, why, so do I.' An ungracious speech, Mrs. Liddell, but there is the condition." "Do you mean my brother-in-law will refuse to help me if my daughter does not go to manage his house?" " So he says." " But did "you not say at first that he would take ten per cent, without this sacrifice?" " He said so at first ; then this plan seemed to strike him, and he was very firm about it." " It is an awful place to go to." The words burst from Katherine's lips before she could stop herself. "lean hardly agree to such a condition as this," cried MTJB. Liddell. 46 A CROOKED PATH. "And I must urge you not to reject it," said Mr. Newton, impres- sively, "for the sake of your daughter and grandsons. I must point out that by refusing you not only d.-prive yourself of the tem- porary aid you require, but you cut off your daughter from all chance of winning over her uncle by the influence of her presence. Propinquity, my dear madam propinquity s onetimes wor!:s won- ders ; and Mr. Liddell has a great deal in his power. I would not encourage false hopes, but this is a chance you may never have again a chance of sharing her uncle's fortune. If she refuses, he will never see her again." Silence ensued. The choice was a grave difficulty. Mrs. Liddell looked at Katherine, and Katherine looked at the carpet. Suddenly Katherine looked up quickly, and said, in a clear, decided voice: "1 will go. 1 will undertake' the office of secretary and housekeeper at least until my mother pays off this loan." "Katie, my child, how shall you be able to bear it?" "Miss Liddell has decided wisely and well," said the lawyer. "I earnestly hope nay, I believe sbie will reap a rich reward" for her self-sacrifice." " But, Mr. Newton, I cannot consent without some reflection. I too have some conditions to impose." "And they are?" put in Newton, uneasily. " I cannot define them all clearly on the spur of the moment ; but 1 must have leave to go and see my daughter whenever I choose, and she must have the right to spend one day in the week at home." "This might be arranged," said the lawyer, thoughtfully. "Be brave, my dear madam. Sacrifice something of the present to secure future good." " Provided we do not pay too high a price for a doubtful benefit. It will be^terrible for a young girl to be the bond-slave of such a man as John Liddell." "Well, mother, I am quite willing to undertake the task. Not that I am going to be a bond-slave, but as soon as you have paid your debt, I shall consider myself free." " By that time, my dear young lady, I hope you will have made yourself of so much Importance to your uncle that he will make it worth your while to Btry." exclaimed Newton, who was evidently actuated by a friendly feeling toward both mother and daughter. " He must bribe high, then," returned Kate, laughing. "Then may I inform Mr. Liddell that you accept his proposition? and you are prepared to begin your duties at once ! Remember he consfders his acceptance of five instead of ten per cent, frees him from the necessity of paying you any salary." " Surely the laooror is worthy of his hire," said Mrs. Liddell. " No doubt of it, madam ; but the casa is a peculiar one." Some more particulars were discussed and arranged ; Mr. Newton begged Mrs. Liddell to look out for and select a servant, that Kath- erine might begin with some prospect of comfort. It was settled that an interview should be arranged between Mrs. Liddell and her brother-in-law on the day but one following, at which Mr. Newton was to a*ist. Finally she signed a paper, and received six lovely A CROOKED PATH. 47 new crisp bank-notes, the magic touch of which has so marvellously reviving- an effect. Katherine slipped her arm through her mother's and pressed it lovingly as they walked to the Metropolitan station for their return journey. " Now, dear, you will have a little peace," she said. " Dear-bought peace,- my darling. I cannot reconcile myself to such a fate for you." " Still, the money is a comfort." "It is indeed. I will pay the rent to-day, and to-morrow I will give Ada her money. That will be an infinite relief. And still I shall have a few pounds left. Katie dear, is it not too dreudful, the prospect of eating, drinking, sleeping, and beginning di nuoi-o each morning in that gloomy house? How shall you bear it?" " You shall see. If I can have a little chat with you every week I shall be able for a good deal. Then, remember, the book still remains. When that succeeds we may snap our fingers at rich uncles." "When that time comes," interrupted her mother, "you will be tied to the poor old miser by habit and the subtle claims which pity and comprehension weave round the sympathetic." " Oh, if I ever grow to like him it will simplify matters very much. I almost hops I may, but it is not likely. How strange it will be to live in a different house from you ! How dreadfully the boys will tease you when I am away ! Come ; suppose we go and see the Cheerful Visitor the editor, I mean before we return, and then we can say we hove been to a publisher. I really do not think Ada knows the difference between an editor and a publisher." " Very likely ; nor would you, probably, if you had not a mother who scribbles weak fiction." habit of estimating things merely at their market value. However, let us visit the Cheerful Visitor on our homeward way. Of course we must tell Ada of the impending change, but we need not explain too much." The journey back was less silent. Both mother and daughter were oppressed by the task undertaken by the latter. But Katherine was sTiccessful in concealing the dismay with which she contemplated a residence with John Liddell. "Whatever happens, I must not seem afraid of him or be afraid of him," she thought, with instinc- tive perception. " I will try to do what is just and right, and leave the rest to Providence. It must be a great comfort to have faith to believe that if you do the right thing you will be directed and assisted by Goa. What strength it would give ! But I haven't faith. I cannot believe that natural laws will ever be changed for me, and I know that good, honest, industrious creatures die of hunger every day. No matter. " Do rightly, come what may,' 1 is the motto of every true soul. I don't suppose I shall melt this old man's 48 A CROOKED PATH. stony heart, but I will do my best for him. His has been a miser- able life in spite of his money. There is so much money cannot buy !" " How dreadfully late you are !" said Mrs. Frederic, querulously, when they reached home. " I really could not keep the children waiting 1 for you, so we have finished dinner ; but Maria is keeping the mutton as hot as she can for you. D^ar me ! how sick I am of roast mutton ! but I suppose it is cheap "contemptuously. "' Poor dear ! it shall have something- nice to-morrow, 1 ' returned Mrs. Liddell, with her usual strong 1 good temper. "I suppose you are too tired, Katherine, to come with me. The band plays in Kensington Gardens to-day, and I wanted so much to go and hear it." " I am indeed ! Besides, mother has a great deal to tell you when we have had some dinner " " Oh, indeed ! Has your book been accepted, Mrs. Liddell? or has that terrible uncle of ours declared Katherine to be his heiress?" "Have a little patience, and vpu shall hear everything. ' "I am dying oi curiosity and impatience Here. Sarah, do bring up dinner Mrs. Liddell is so hungry !" The announcement that Katherine was invited to live with John Liddell created a tornado of amazement, envy, anticipation with an undercurrent of exultant pride that they were at last recognized by the only rich man in the family in the mind of the petty, impres- sionable little widow. "Gracious! What a grand thing for Kate! But she will be moped to death, and he will starve her Why, Katherine, when it is known that a millionaire has adopted you his den will be besieged by vour admirers I should not be surprised if Colonel Ormonde declared himself. Y^u will never.be able to stand such a life for long at a time Suppose Krelieve guard every fortnight? You must let me have my inningsitoo Old gentlemen always like me, I am so cheerful. Then I might have the boys to see him ; you know he ought to divide the property between us." "Of course he ought I wish he would have us alternately ; it would be a great relief.. " said Katherine, laughing. "1 fancy he is m-mensely rich," continued Ada "Why, Mr. Errington evidently knew his name." "Who is Mr. Errington ?" asked Mrs. Liddell, with languid cariosity- "Did^you never hear of the Calcutta Erringtons?" cried Ada. with infinite superiority. "There are as rich as Jews, and one ol the greatest houses in India. Old Mr Errington bought a fine place in the country lately, and this young man I'm sure I don't know if he /.<> young -, he is as grave as a judge and as stiff as a poker at all events he is an only son. I met him at the Burnett's yesterday Well, beseemed to know Mr Liddell's name quite well. Colonel Ormonde pricked up his ears too when I said you had gono to see him. It is a great advantage to have a rich old bachelor uncle, Katherine, but you must not keep him all to yourself." The next few days were agitated and much occupied. Katherine A CROOKED PATH. 49 went for part of each to read and write and market for the old re- clvFZ, ana he grew less formidable, but not more likable, as he be- came, more familiar. He was an extraordinary example of a human being 1 converted into a money-making and accumulating machine. He was not especially irritable ; indeed his physical powers were weak and dying of every species of starvation ; but his coldness was supernatural. Fortunately for Katherine, his former house- keeper was greedy and extravagant, so that his niece's management seamed wise and economical, and she had an excellent backer-tip in Mr. Newton. The old miser was with difficulty persuaded to see his sister-in-law ; but Mrs. Liddell insisted on an interview, and Mr. Newton himself supported her through the trying ordeal. The mother's heart sank within her at she sight of the gloomy, desolate abode in which her bright daughter M'as to be immured ; but she comforted herself by reflecting that it need not be for long. Mr. Liddell did not rise from the easy-chair in which he sat crouched together, his thin gray locks escaping as usual from under the skull-cap, his long lean brown hands grasping the arms of his chair, when Mrs. Liddell came in ; neither did he hold out his hand. He looked at her fixedly with his glittering dark eyes " You wanted to see me ?" he said. " Why ?" " Because I thought it right to see and speak with you before com- mitting rny only child to your keeping." " But vo'u have done it ! She has agreed to the conditions, has'nt she ?" turning to Newton. " If you go back, I must have my money back." " Of course, my dear sir of course," soothingly. " I am glad that Katherine can be of use to you. I do not wish to retract anything I have agreed to, but I wish to remind you that my child is young ; that you must let her go in and out, and have opportunities for air and exercise " " She may do as she likes ; she can do anything. So long as she reads to me^ and buys my food without wasting my money, / don't want her company. She seems to know something of the value of money, and I'll keep her in pledge till you have paid me. I'll never let myself be cheated again, a* I was by your worthless husband." " Let the dead rest," said Mrs. Liddell, sadly. " I have paid you what I could." " Ay, the principal the bare principal. What is that? Do men lend for the lov-; of lending?" he returned, viciously. "Pray do not vex yourself. It is useless to look back annoying 1 and useless," said the lawyer, with decision. " Useless indeed ! What more have you to say?" " I should like to see the room my daughter is to occupy. It is as well she should have the comforts "necessary to health, for all our sakes. You will not find OIK; who will s,:rve you as Katherine can, even for a hig-h price. I think you feel this yourself," said Mrs. Liddell, steadily. " You may go where you like, but do not trouble me. You can come and see your daughter, but f shall not want to see you ; and she may go and see you of a Sunday, when there are no newspapers 50 A CROOKED PATH. to be read ; but, mark you I will not pay for carriages or horses or omnibuses ; and mark also that I have made my will, and I'll not alter it in any one's favor. Your daughter will have her food and lodging 1 and my countenance and protection." " She has done without these for nineteen years," said Mrs. Lid- dell, with a .slight smile. " But you have given me very opportune help, for which I am grateful ; so I have accepted your terms. Kate shall stay with you till I have paid you principal and interest, and then / warn you I shall reclaim my hostage.'' "She'll be a good while with me," he said, with a sneer. "None of you you, your husband, or your son ever had thirty pounds to spare in your lives." "Time will show," returned Mrs. Liddell, with admirable steadi- ness and temper. " Now I will bid you good -day, and take advan- tage of your permission to look over your house." " Let me show you the way, " said" Newton. "I shall return to you presently, Mr. Liddell." The old man bent his head. " See that the girl comes to-morrow," he said, and leaned back wearily in his chair. The friendly lawyer led the way upstairs, and showed Mrs. Liddell a large room," half bed, half sitting, with plenty of heavy old-fashion- ed furniture. "This was, I think, the drawing-room," said Mr. Newton ; "and having extracted permission from my very peculiar client to have the house cleaned, so far as it could be done, which it sorely needed, the person I employed selected the best of the furni- ture for this room. We propose to give the next room at the back to the servant. You have, I believe, found one;"' "Yes, a respectable elderly woman, of whom I have had an excellent character." After Mrs. Liddell had visited the rooms upstairs mere dismantl- ed 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 tran- quil, that I shrink from the idea of her banishment here." "It is not unnatural, my ditir 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" oft fr<.;: any chance of sharing his fortune, which is considerable, I ass r you, merejy to avoid a little present annoyance." I ' It woul'd indeed. Do not think me very weak. It is a passing fit of the dolefuls. I have had much anxiety of late, and for tha 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 yoUe. 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 A. CROOKED PATH. 51 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 dis- cussion of details, took her way home. From the step she had voluntarily taken there was no retreat, nor, to do her justice, was Katherine Lfddell m 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 resent occasionally, or forgive this debt to her mother ? What a elightful 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 ivas 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. How ardently she longed to give her mother something of a rest after the burden and heat of the day, which she had borne so well and so long a spell of peaceful twilight before the gray shadows of everlasting darkness closed, or the brightness of eternal light broke upon her ! Yes, she would stand four-square against the steely ter- rors of John Liddell's cold egotism and penuriousness. against the desolation and gloom of his forbidding abode, the crushing sordidness of an existence reduced to the merest straws of sustenance, provided she could lighten her mother's load perhaps secure her future ease and she would do her task well, thoroughly, keeping a steady heart and a bright face. Then, should the tide ever turn, what d"cp draughts of pleasure she would drink ! Katherine was not socially- ambitious ; finery and grandeur as such did not attract her but real joys, beauty and gayety, the company of pleasant people' / e people who suited her, graceful surroundings, becomin- clothes and plenty of them, all were dear and delightful to her. Some of these things she had tasted when she lived with her mother in the German and Italian towns where she had been chieflv educated ; the rest she was satisfied to imagine. Above all she loved to charm those with whom she associated loved it in a li-ilf unconscious way. Were it to a poor blind beggar woman or a little crossing sweeper, she would speak as gently and modulate her voice as carefully as to the most brilliant partner or the greatest lady. This might be tenderness of nature, or the profound instinct to win liking and admiration. As yet it was quite instinctive but if hurt or offended she could feel resentment very vividl , and' wa by no means too ready to forgive, 52 A CROOKED PATH. Unfortunately she started with a strong prejudice against her uncle, and sometimes rehearsed in her own mind exceedingly tine speeches which she would have liked to address to her miserly re- lative on the subject of his cruelty to his son, his avarice, his egotism. Still a strain of pity ran through har m "litations. Was life worth living, spent as his was? How far h.i.l his nature been warped by his wife's desertion? It was an extraordinary experience to Katharine, this packing up of her belongings to quit' her home. She took as little as sh3 could help, to keep up the idea that she was entering on a very t ur.porary engagement ; besides, as she meant to adhere rigidly to IHT ru-ht of a weekly visit to her mother, she could always get what she wanted. After Mrs. Licldell, Katherine found it hardest to part with the boys, specially little Charlie, whose guardian and champion sh3 had constituted herself. Her sister-in-law had rather an irritating effect upon her, of which she was a little ashamed, and whenever she had spoken sharply, which she did occasionally, she was ready to atone for it by doing some extra service, so that, on the whole, the pretty little widow got a good deal more out of her sister than out of her mother-in-law. But meditations, resolutions, regrets, and preparations notwith- standing, the day of Katherine s departure arrived. It was a bright, glowing afternoon, and the Thursday fixed for the boating party. Mrs. Liddell junior had expended "much eloquence to no purpose, as she well knew it would be, in trying to persuade her sister-in-law to postpone the commencement of what the little widow was pleased to call her "penal servitude," and accompany her to Twickenham. She departed, however, without her, looking her very best, and uttering many promises to come and see Katie soon, to try her powers of pleasing on that dreadful old uncle of ours, to bring the dear boys, and see if they would not cut out their aunty, etc. Mrs. Liddell and her daughter were most thankful to' have the last few hours together, and yet they said little, and that chiefly re- specting past days which they had enjoyed together little excur- sions on the Elbe or in the neighborhood of Florence ; a couple of months once passed at Siena, which was a mental epoch to Katherine, who was then about fifteen; promises to write; and tender queries on the mother's side if she had remembered this or that. The little boys clung to her, Charlie in tears, Cecil very solemn. Both had taken up the sort of camera-obscura image of their elders' views which children contrive to obtain so mysteriously without hearing anything distinct concerning them, and both considered " Uncle John " a sort of modern ogre, only restrained by the police- man outside from making a daily meal of the nearest infant schoool, and sure to gobble up aunty some day. Charlie trembled at the thought ; Cecil pondered profoundly how, by the judicious arrange- ment of a trap-door in the middle of his room, he might carry out the original idea of Jack the Giant-Killer. "Pray don't think of coming with me, mother," said Katherine, A CROOKED PATH. 53 seeing 1 Mrs. Liddcll take out her bonnet. " I could not bear to think of your lonely drive back. Trust me to myself. I am not going to be either frightened or cast down, and I will write to-morrow." "Then I must let you go, darling ! On Sunday next, Katie, we shall see you." A long, fond embrace, and Mrs. Liddell was indeed alone. CHAPTER VI. "SHIFTING SCENES." PARTING is often worst to those who stay behind. Imagination paints the trials and (!:'? ; ::ies of the one who has put out to sea as far worse than t!i; roulity, while variety and action brace ths spirit of him who gu;-s forth." Katherine's reception, however, was paralyzing enough. Nothing was in her favor save the mellow brightness of the fine warm evening, though from its south-east aspect the parlor at Legrave Crescent was already in shadow. There, in his usual seat beside the fire for, though a miser, John Liddell had a fire summer and winter sat the old man watching the embers, in himself a liv- ing refrigerator. " You ara late !" was his greeting, in a low, cold A r oice. "I have be^n expecting you. The woman ISewton found for me has been up and down with a dozen questions I cannot answer. I must be saved from this ; I will not be disturbed. Go and see what she waii's ; then, if there is more food to be cooked, come to me for money. Mark! no more bills. I will give you what cash you want ea h day, so long as you do not ask too much." " Very well. Your fire wants making up, uncle." She brought out this last word with an effort. "I suppose I am to call you ancle?" " Call me what you choose," was the ungracious reply. In the hall she found the new servant, whom she had already seen, waiting her orders. She was a stout, good-humored woman of a certain age, with vast experience, gathered in many services, and partly tempted to her present engagement by the hope that in so small a household her labor would be li^-ht. " Will you come up, miss, and see if your room is as you like it ?" was her first address. " I'm sure I am glad you have come ! I've been groping in the dark, in a manner of speaking, since I came yesterday ; and Mr. Liddell, he's not to be spoke to. Believe me, miss, if itVasn't that I promised your mar, and saw you was a nice you;, '.-rly yourself, wild horses wouldn't keep me in such a lonesome Larrack of a place !" " I hop,) you will not desert us, Mrs. Knapp," returned Katherine, cheerfully/ " If you and I do our best, I hope the place will not be so bad." "Well, it didn't ought to," returned Mrs. Knapp. " There's lots of good furniture everywhere but in the kitchen, and that's just for $11 the world like a marine store 1" 54 A CROOKED PATH. "Is it?" exclaimed Katherine, greatly puzzled by the metaphor. "At all events you have made my room nice and tidy." This con- versation, commenced on the staircase, was continued in Katherine's apartment. " It ain't bad, miss ; there's plenty of room for your clothes in that big wardrobe, and there's a chest of drawers ; but Lord, 'm, they smell that musty, I've stood them open all last night and this morning, but they ain't much the better. I didn't like to ask for the key of the bookcase, but I can see through the glass the books are iust coated with dust," said Mrs. Knapp. "We must manage all that by -and -by," said Katherinc. "Have you anything in the house? "I suppose my uncle will want some dinner." "I gave him a filleted sole with white sauce, and a custard pud- ding, at two o'clock, and he said he wanted nothing more. I had no end of trouble in getting half a crown out of him, and he had the change. If the gentleman as I saw with your mar, miss, hadn't given me five shillings, I don't know where I should be." " I will ask my uncle what he would like for dinner or supper, and come to you in the kitchen afterward." Such was Katherine's inauguration. She soon found ample occupation. Not a day passed without a battle over pennies and half-pennies. Liddell gave her each morn- ing a small sum wherewith to goto market ; he expected her to return straight to him and account rigidly for every farthing she had laid out, to enter all in a book which he kept, and to give him the exact change. These early expeditions into the fresh air among the busy, friendly shopkeepers soon came to be the best bit of Ka':h- erine's day, and most useful in keeping up the healthy tone of her mind. Then came a spell of reading 1 from the Times and other papers. Every word connected with the funds and money matters generally, even such morsels of politics as effected the pulse of finance, was eagerly listened to ; of other topics Mr. Liddell did not care to hear. A few letters to solicitor or stock-broker, some entries in a general account-book, and the forenoon was gone. Friends, interests, regard for life in any of its various aspects, all were non- existent for Liddell. Money was his only thought, his sole aspira- tionto accumulate, for no object. This miserliness had grown upon him since he had lost both wife and son. Fortunately for Katherine, his ideas of expenditure had been fixed by the compara- tively liberal standard of his late cook. When, therefore, he fouiifl he had greater comfort at slightly less cost he was satisfied. .but his satisfaction did not prompt him to express it. His nearest approach to approval was not finding fault In vain Katherine endeavored to interest him in some of the sub- jects treated of in the papers. He was deaf to every topic that did not be \r on his self-interest. " There is a curious account here of the state of labor in Manches- ter and Birmingham ; shall I read it to you ?" asked Katherine, one morning, after she had toiled through the share list and city article. She had been about a fortnight installed in her uncle's house. A CR@9KED PATH. 55 "No !" he returned ; "what is labor to me? We have each our own work to do." "But is there nothing 1 else you would care to hear, uncle?" She had grown more accustomed to him, and he to her ; in spite of her- self, she was anxious to cheer his dull days to awaken something- of human feeling- in the old automaton. "Nothing-! Why should I care for what does not concern me? You only care for what touches yourself ; but because you are young, and your blood runs quick, many thing's touch you." " Did you ever care for anything- except except '' Katherine pulled herself up. The words "your money " were on her lips. "I cannot remember, and I do not wish to look back. ] suppose, now, you would like to be driving- about in a fine carriage, with a bonnet and feathers on your head. I suppose you are wishing- me dead, and yourself free to run away from, your daily tasks in this quiet house, to listen to the lying- tong-ue of some soft-spoken scoun- divl, as foolish women will ; but the longer I live the better for ;.>uii, till your mother's debt is paid, or my executors will give her a short shrfft and scant time." "I don't want you to die, Uncle Liddell," said Katherine, with simple sincerity, "but I wish there was anything I coi.'l do to in- terest you or amuse you. I am sorry to ' see you so dull. Why, you are obliged to sleep all the afternoon !" "Amuse me ?" he returned, with infinite scorn. "You need not trouble yourself. I have thoughts which occupy me of which you have no id?a, and then I pass from thoughts to dreams grand dreams !" ha paused for a moment. " Where is that pile of papers that lay on the chair there?" he resumed, sharply. " I have taken them away upstairs ; when I have collected some more I am going to sell them. My mother always sells her waste pap -r one may as well have a few pence for them." " Did you mother say so?" with some animation then another pause. " Are you going to see her on Sunday?" "Not next Sunday," returned Katherine, quite pleased to draw him into conversation. "You know we must let Mrs. Knapp go out every alternate Sunday, and you cannot be left alone." " "Why not ? Am I an imbecile? Am I dying ? I can tell you I have years of life before me yet." "I dare say ; still, i is my duty to stay here in case you want anything. But I shall go home on Saturday afternoon instead, if you have no objection." " You would not heed my objections if I had any. You are self- willed, you are resolute. 1 see things when I care to look. There, I am very tired ! You will find some newspapers in my room ; you can add "them to the others. How soon will dinner be ready?" Katherine felt herself dismissed. The afternoons were much at her own disposal ; and as she found a number of old books, some of which greatly interested her, she managed to accomplish a good deal of reading, and even did a little dreaming. Still, though time seemed to go" so slowly, the weeks, on looking back, had fiown fast. The monotony was terrible ; but a break was at hand which was not quite unexpected. 66 A CROOKED PATH. The day following the above conversation, Katherine had retired as usual after dinner to write to a German friend with whom she kept up a desultory correspondence ; the day was warm, and her door being open, the unwonted sound of tlrj front door-bell startled her. "Who could it possibly be?" asked Katherine of herself. The next minute a familiar voice struck her ear, and she quickly de- scended to the front parlor. There an appalling sight met her eyes. In the centre of the room, her back to the door, stood Mrs. Fred* Li Idell, a little boy in either hand all three most carefully attired in their best garments, and making quite a pretty group. Facing them, Mr. Liddell sat upright in his chair, his lean, claw- like hands grasping the arms, his eyes full of fierce astonishment. "You see, my dear sir, as you have never invited me, I have ventured to come unasked to make your acquaintance, and to intro- duce my dear boys to you ; for it is possible you have sent me a message by Katherine which she has forgotten to deliver ; so I thought ' Thus far the pretty little widow had proceeded Avhen the children, catching sight of their auntie, sprang upon her with a cry of delight. "Who who is this?" asked Mr. Liddell, compressing his thin lips and hissing out the words. " My brother's widow, Mrs. Fred Liddell," returned Katherine, who was kissing and fondling her nephews. " Did you invite her to come here ?" " No, uncle." "Then explain to her that I do not receive visitors, especiallv re- lations, who have no claims upon me, and and I particularly object to children." " I shall take my sister-in-law to my room for a little rest," re- turned Katherine, wounded by his manner, though greatly vexed wit^i Ada for coming. "Ay, do, anywhere you like." But Mrs. Fred made a gallant attempt to stand her ground. "My dear sir, you must not be so unkind as to turn me out, when I have taken the trouble to come all this way on pin-pose to make your acquaintance. Let Katherine take away the children by all means some people are worried with children but let i troublesome since you went away. We could both sleep with you in that great big bed ! The cross old gentleman would never know. It would be such fun ! Do, do, let us stay, , . , j ' auntie ! ' "But I am afraid of the old gentleman," whispered the younger boy. "Does he ever hurt you, auntie dear? I wish you would come home." " Charlie is such a coward," said Cecil, with contempt. "Don't talk nonsense, children," exclaimed their mother, per- emptorily. " I should die of fright if I thought you were left behind with that ogre. / wouldn't sacrifice my children for the sake of filthy lucre." "Do not talk nonsense, Ada?" said Katherine, im patiently. "I am infinitely distressed that my uncle should have behaved so rudely, but he is really eccentric, and if you had consulted " " He is the boys' uncle as well as yours, ' interrupted Ada, in- dign&ntly. " Why should they not come and see him ? How was I to suppose he was such an unnatural monster ?" " I ahvays told you he was very peculiar." "Peculiar ! that is a delicate way of putting it. If I were you I should be ashamed of wasting my time and my youth acting servant to an old miser who will not leave you a sou !" " No, I don't suppose ha will," returned Katherine, quietly. ' ' Still, I am not the L-aso ayiiamed of what I am doing ; I am quite satisfied with my own motives." " Oh, you are ahvays satisfied with yourself, I know," was the angry answer, " But " with a slight change of tone" lam sorry to see you look so pale and ill, though you deserve it." 58 A CROOKED PATH. "Never mind, Ada. Take off your bonnet and sit down. I will get vou a cup of tea." "Tea i no, certainly not ! Do you think me so mean as to taste a mouthful of food in this house after being ordered out of it ?" "Oh, I am so hungry !" cried Cecil, in mournful tones. " You are a little cormorant. Grannie will give you nice tea when we get home. Put on your gloves, children, I shafl go at once." " Do come back with us, auntie," implored the boys. " Grannie wants you ever so much." " Not more than I want her," returned Katherine. "How is she, Ada >" "Oh, very well ; just the same as usual. People who are not sensitive have a great deal to be thankful for. 7 feel quite upset by this encounter with your amiable relative, so I will say good-by. " Oh, wait for me ; I will come with you. Let me put on my hat and tell Mr. Liddell I am going out." "Of course you must ask the master's leave !" "Exactly," returned Katherine, good-humoredly. And she put on her hat*and gloves. " Well, I shall be glad of your guidance, for I hardly know my way back to where the omnibus starts. Such a horrible low part of the" town for a man of fortune to live in ! I wonder what Colonel Ormonde would say to it ?" "1 am sure I don't know," returned Kate, laughing. "Now come down-stairs. If you go on I will speak to my uncle, and follow you." "I am sorry you have been annoved," said Katherine, when, having tapped at the door, Mr Liddell desired her to " come in." He was standing at an old-fashioned bureau, the front of which let down to form a writing-desk and enclosed a number of various-sized drawers. He had taken out several packets of paper neatly tied with red tape and seemed to be rearranging them. " 1 am going to take my sister-in-law back to the omnibus ; you may be sure she will never intrude again." >: .She shall not," he replied, turning to face her. Katherine thought how ghastly pale and pinched he looked. " I see the sort of creature she is a doll that would sell her sawdust soul for finery and o-litter ; ay, and the lives of all who belong to her for an hour of pleasure." Katherine was shocked at his fierce, uncalled-for bitterness. " She has lived with us for more than a year and a half, and we have found her very pleasant, and kind. *Her children are dear, sweet things. You should not judge her so harshly." " You are a greater fool than I took vou for," cried Mr. Liddell. "Go take them away, and mind thc\y do not come back." Katherine hastened a >er her visitors and led them by a more direct route than they had traversed in coming. It took them past a cake shop, where she spoilt one of her few sixpances in appeasing her nephews' appetite, which, at least, with Cecil, grew with what it fed upon, in the matter of calces. The children, each holding one of her hands, chattered away, telling many particulars of grannie and Jane, and the cat, to say A CROOKED PATH. 59 nothing- of a most interesting- gardener who came to cut the grass. To all of which Katherine lent a willing- ear. How ardently she longed to be at home with the dear mother ag-ain ! She had never done half enoug-h for her. Ah, if they only could be tog-ether a-ain in Florence or Dresden as they used to be ! Mrs. Fred Liddell kept almost complete silence a very unusual case with her and only as she paused before following- her little boys into the omnibus did she give any clew to the current of her thoughts. " Should Colonel Ormonde come on Saturday when vou are with us which is not likely do not say anything about that horrid old man's rudeness ; one does not like to confess to being- turned out.'' " Certainly not. I shall say nothing 1 , you may be sure." "Good-by, then. I shall tell your mother you are looking wretchedly." " Pray do not," cried Katherine, but the conductor's loud stamping- on his perch to start the driver drowned her voice. It was a fine evening-, fresh, too, with a slig-ht crispness, and Katherine could not resist the temptation of a walk in Regent's Park. She felt her spirits, which had been greatly depressed, somewhat revived by the free air, the sig-ht of grass and trees. Still she could not answer the question which often tormented her, " It mv mother cannot sell her book, how will it all end must I remain as a hostage forever ?" It was a gloomy outlook. She did not allow herself to stray far ; crossing the foot-bridge over the Regent's Canal, she turned down a street which led bya circuit toward her abode. It skirted Primrose Hill for a few vards, and as she passed one of the gates admitting to the path which crosses it, a gentleman came out, and after an instant's hesitation raised his hat. Katherine recognized the man who had rescued Cecil at Hyde Park Corner. She smiled and bowed, frankly pleased to meet him again ; it was so refreshing to see a bright, kindly face a face, tpo, that looked glad to see her. " May I venture to inquire for my little friend ?" said the gentleman, respectfully. "I trust he was not the worse for his adventure ?" " Not at all, thanks to your promptness," said Katherine, pausing. " I have onlv just parted with him and his mother. She would ha v*e been very glad of an opportunity to thank you." " So slight a service scarcely needs your thanks," he said, in a soft, agreeable voice, as he turned and walked beside her. Katherine made no objection ; she knew he was an acquaintance of Colonel Ormonde, and it was too pleasant a chance of speaking to a civilized human being to be lost. Her new acquaintance was good-looking without being handsome, with a peculiarly happy ex- pression, and honest, kindly light brown eves. He was about middle height, but well set up, and carried himself like a soldier. "Then your little charge does not live with yon?" he asked. " Not now. I am staying with my uncle. Cecil lives with his mother and mine at Bayswater." "Indeed! I think my old friend, Colonel Ormonde, knows the young gentleman's mother." 60 A CROOKED PATH. "He does." "Then, may I introduce myself to you? My name is Payne Gilbert Pavne." " Oh, indeed !" returned Katherine, with a vague idea that she ought not perhaps to walk with him, yet by no means inclined to dismiss a pleasant companion. " I fancy your young nephew is a somewhat rebellious sub- ject." " He is sometimes very troublesome, but you cannot help liking him." "Exactly a fine boy. What bewildering little animals children are ! They ought to teach us humility, they understand us so much better than we understand them." " I believe they dp, but I never thought of it before. Have you little brothers and sisters who have taught you this ?" " No. I am the youngest of my family ;'but I am interested in a refuge for street children, and I learn much there." "That is very good of you," said Katherine, looking earnestly at "him. " Where is it near this?" " No ; a long way off. There are plenty of such places in every direction. I have just come from a Rome for poor old women, child- less widows, sickly spinsters, who cannot work, and have no one to work for them. If you have any spare time, it would be a great kindness to go and read to them now and then. The lees of such lives are often sad and tasteless." "I should be glad to help in any way," said Katherine, coloring, "but just now I belong (temporarily) to my uncle, who is old, and requires a good deal of reading and care." "Ah, I see your work is cut out for you ; that, of course, is your first duty." The conversation then flowed on easily about street arabs and the various missions for rescuing^them, about soldiers' homes, and other kindred topics. Katherine was much interested, and taken out of herself ; she was quite sorry when on approaching Legrave Crescent she felt obliged to pause, with the intention of dismissing him. He understood. " Do you live near this;'" he asked. " Yes, quite near." "May 1 bring you some papars giving you an account of my poor old women ?" " I should like so much to have them," said Kathorine. " But my uncle is rather peculiar. He does not like to be disturbed; he dors not like visitors ; he was vexed because my sister-in-law and the children came to day." " I understand, and will not intrude. But should you be able and willing to hcrlp these undertakings, Colonel Ormonde will always know my address. He honors me still with his friendship, though he thinks me a moon-struck idiot." "Because you are good Ths folly is his," said Katherine, warmly. Then she bowod, Mr. Payne lifted his hat again, and they partedj not to meet for many a day. When Mrs. Knapp opened the 'door she looked rather grave, but Catherine's mind was so full of her encounter with Gilbert Pavne A CROOKEB PATH. 61 that she did not notice it, seeing- which, Mrs. Knapp said, " I'm glad you have come in, miss." " Whv ?" with immediate apprehension. "Is my uncle ill ?" " He is not right, miss. I took him up his cup of tea and slice of dry toast about five, and he was lying back, as he often does, asleep, as*! thought, in the chair. I says, ' Here's your tea, sir,' but he made no answer, and I spoke again twice without making- him hoar ; then I touched his hand ; it was stone cold ; so I got water and dabbed his brow, when he sat up all of a sudden, and swore at me for making him cold and damp with my I don't like to say the word rags. Then he shivered and shook like an aspen ; but I made up che lire and popped- a spoonful of brandy in his tea he never noticed. But he kept asking for you, miss. I think he doesn't know he was bad. " Katharine hastened to her uncle, greatly distressed at having been absent at the moment of need In her eagerness she committed the mistake of asking how he felt now, and received a tart reply. There was nothing the matter with him, nothing unusual only his old complaint, increasing years and infirmity : still he was not to be treated like a helpless baby. Katherine felt tier error, and turned the sub-'ect ; then, returning to it, begged him to see a doctor This he refused sternly Finally she had recourse to an article on the revenue in the papsr, which soothed him, and she saw the old man totter cff to bed with extreme uneasiness, yet not daring even to suggest a night light, so irritable did he seem. BePore she slept she wrote a brief account of what had occurred to Mr. Newton, and implored him to come and remonstrate with his client. CHAPTER VII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. KATHERINE LIDDELL, had never spent so uneasy a night, save when her mother had been ill. Her nerves were on the stretch, her cars painfully watchful for the smallest sound. What if the desolate old man should pass away, alone and unaided, in the darkness of night ! The sense of responsibility was almost too much for her. If she could have her mother at"herside she would fear nothing. She was up early, thankful to see daylight, and eager for Mrs. Knapp's report of her uncle. Generally the old man was afoot betimes, and despised th : hr-ury of warm water. This morning Mrs. Knapp had to knock at his door, as he was not moving, and after a brief interview returned to inform Katherine that Mr. Liddell grumbled at her for being up too early, and on hearing that it was half past eight, said she had better bring him a cup of tea. Katherine carried it to him herself. He took very little notice of her, but said he would get up presently and hear the papers read. 62 A CROOKED PATH. When she came back with some jelly, for which she had sent to the nearest confectioner, he ate it without comment, and told her she might go. It was a miserable morning-, but about noon, to her great delight, she saw Mr. Newton opening- the garden gate. She new to admit him. " I am so thankful vou have come ! " "How is Mr. Lid :ell?" "He seems quite himself this morning, except that he is inclined to stay in bed." "He must see a doctor," said Mr. Newton, speaking in a low voice and turning into the parlor. " We must try and keep him alive and in his senses for every reason. I am glad he is still in bed; it will give me an excuse for urging him to take advice, for of course 1 shall not mention your note." " No pray do not. He evidently does not like to be thought ill." " Pray how long have you bee'h here nearly a month? Yes, I thought" so. I cannot compliment you on your looks. How do you think you have been getting on with our friend?" " Not very well, I fear," said Katherine, shaking her head. " He rarely speaks to me, except to give some order or ask some neces- sary question. Yet he does not speak roughly or crossly, as he does to Mrs Knapp ; and something I cannot define in his voice, even in his cold eyes, tells me he is growing used to my presence, and that he does not dislike it." "Well, I should think not, MissLiddell," said the precise lawyer, politely. "I trust time may be given to him to recognize the claims of kindred and of merit. Pray ask him if he will see me, and in the mean time please send a note to Dr. Brown a very respectable practitioner, who lives not far ; ask him to come at once. I must persuade Mr. Liddell to see him, and if possible while I am present. ' The old man showed no surprise at Mr. Newton's presence ; it was almost time for his monthly visit, and as he brought a small sum of money with him, the result of some minor payments, he was very welcome. Katherine, immensely relieved, sat trying to work in the front parlor, but really watching for the doctor. Would her uncle see aim? and if not," ought she still to undertake the responsibility of such a diarge? At last he arrived, a staid, thoughtful-looking man ; and before he had time to do more than exchange a few words with her, Mr. Neu ton appeared and carried him oft to see the patient. They seemed a long time gone ; and when they returned the doc- tor wrote a prescription a very simple tonic, he said. "AVhatyour uncle needs. Miss Liddell," he said, "is constant nourishment . " He is exceedingly weak ; the action of the heart is feeble, the whole system starved. You must get him to take all the food you can, and some good wine Burgundy if possible. He had better get up. There is really no organic disease, but he is very low. He ought to have some one in his room at night.'' " It will be difficult to manage that," said Mr. Newton. " I shall look in to-morrow about this time," said the doctor, and hurried away. A CROOKED PATH, 63 "How have you contrived to make him hear reason?" asked Katherine, eagerly. " I took thu law' into my own hands, for one thing;, and I suggest- ed a powerful motive for living on. 1 reminded him that he and another old gentleman are the only survivors in a 'Tontine,' and that he must try to outlive him. So the cost of doctor, medicine, etc., etc., ought" to be considered as an investment. Do not fail to get him all possible nourishment. If he rebels, send for me." "I will indeed. lam almost afraid to stay here aloi.e. Might I not have my mother with me ?" " Do not think of it " earnestly. " I was going to say that I be- lieve you are decidedly gaining on your uncle : but the"intrusion of Mrs. Frederic Licldell yesterday was very unfortunate. My rather peculiar client is impressed with the idea that you invited her." "Indeed I did not !" cried Katherine. "I did not suppose you did, but her appearance seems to have given Mr. Liddell a shock." Mr. Newton patised, and then asked in a slow tone, as if thinking hard, " What was your sister-in-law's maiden name?" ' Sandford," said Katherine. 4 Sandford ? That is rather a curious coincidence. The late Mrs, John Liddell was a Miss Sandford." 1 Is she dead, then ?" 'Yes ; she died eight or nine years ago." 'Could they have been related?" ' Possibly. Some likeness seems to have struck your uncle." There was a short silence, and Mr. Newton resumed. ''I trust you do not find your stay here too trying? I consider it very im- portant that you should persevere, though it is only right to tell you that Mr. Liddell has made a will not a just one, in my opinion and it is extremely unlikely he will ever change it." " That does not really aft'cct me. Of course I should be very glad if he chose to leave anything to my mo'her or myself, but I shall do my best for him under any circumstances. Besides, I have a sort of desire to make him speak to me and like me perhaps it is vanitv quite apart from a sense of duty. He is so like a frozen man !" "Try, try by all means, my dear young lady." "What 1 do not like is the nour or half-hour after market. The wolfish greed by which he clutches the change I bring back, the glare in his eyes, the h'erce eagerness with which he asks the price of everything he is not human at such times, and I almost fear him." " It is a dreadful picture, but perhaps the details may soften in time," "How shall I get money for all he wants?" asked Katherine, anxiously . "I shall impress upon Mr. Liddell the necessity of his case, and even make out that the good things he requires cost more than they do. I will beg him to allow me to supply the money during his in- disposition arid enter it in his account. Here, I will give you five pounds while we are alone." "Thank you so much ! You see I dare not get into debt. J will 64 A CROOKED PATH. keep a careful account of all expenditure, and ask him my uncle, I mean not to give me any money, then there will be no con- fusion." " Very well. I will go back to him now. He will be almost ready to come in here. Write to me frequently, I shall try to look in to- morrow for a few minutes." Katheri e stirred the fire, and placed a threadbare footstool before h invalid's easy-chair, thanking Heaven in her heart for sending hor such an ally as the friendly lawyer. Then Mr. Laddell appeared, leaning 1 on Newton's arm, and not looking- much worse than usual, Katherine thought. He took no notice of her until she put the footstool under his feet ; then, wonder- ful to relate, he looked down into her grave, kindly face and smiled, not bitterly or cynically, but as if, on the whole, pleased to see her. He seemed a little breathless, yet he soon began to speak to Newton as if in continuation of their previous conversation " And is Fergus- son really a year younger than I am ?" "Yes, quite a year, I should say, and he takes great care of him- self. I do not think he has really so good a constitution as you have, but he takes everything that is strengthening good wine, turtle soup, and I do not know what." "Ah, indeed !" returned Mr. Liddell, thoughtfully. "I have been explaining to Mr. Liddell," said the lawyer, turning to Katherine, " that it would be well to let me give you the house- keeping money for the present, so that he need not be" troubled about anything except to get well ; and when well, my dear sir, you really must go out. Fresh air" "Fresh fiddle-sticks," interrupted the old man ; "I have been well for years without going out, and I'll not begin now. I'll give in to everything else ; only, if / am obliged to take costly food as a medi- cine, I expect the rest of the household to live as carefully as ever." " I shall do my best, uncle," said Katherine, softly. After a little more conversation the lawyer took his leave, and then Katherine applied herself to read the papers which had been neglected. It was not till toward evening she was able to write a few lines to her mother describing Mr. Liddell's illness, and begging she would come to see her on Saturday, as she (Katherine) could not absent herself while her uncle was so unwell. After this things went on much as usual, only Mr. Liddell never resumed his habits of early rising ; he was a shade less cold too, though at times terribly irritable. He took the food prepared for him obediently enough, but with evident want of appetite, rarely finishing what was provided. Mr. Newton generally called everv week, and Katherine wrote to him besides ; she was strict in insisting on the audit of her accounts, which the accurate lawyer sometimes praised. By judicious ac- counts of Fergusson, the other surviving member of the Tontine, he managed to keep his cliem in tolerable order. Katherine, though grateful to him for his friendly help, little knew how strenuously ne strove to lengthen the old miser's days, hoping he would make some provision for his niece, while he dared not offer any suggestion on A CROOKED PATH. 65 the subject, lest it should produce an effect contrary to what he de- sired. Mrs. Fred Liddell was bitterly disappointed by the result of her visit to the rich uncle. A good deal, indeed, hong upon it. A wealthy succession was certainly a thing 1 to be devoutly wished for in itself, but the sharp little widow felt that provision for her boys and a dowry for herself meant marriage, if she chose, with Colonel Ormonde. And she very decidedly did wish it. Her imagination, which was vivid enough of its kiiid^ was captivated by the Colonel's imposing "bow-wow" manner, the idea of a country place an old family place too by his diamond ring- and florid compliments, his self-satis- fied fastidiousness and his social position. Jn short, to her he seemed a fashionable hero ; but she was quite sure he never would hamper himself with t-.vo little portionless boys. Ada Liddell was by no means unkind to her children ; she was ready to pet them when they met. and give them what did not cost her too much ; but she considered them a terrible disadvantage, and herself a most generous and de- voted mother. The day after she had been so ignominiously expelled from John Liddell's house she put on the prettiest thing she possessed in the way of a bonnet a contrivance of black lace and violets and having inspected the turn-out of the children's maid in her best go-to-meet- ing attire, also the putting on of the boys' newest sailor suits, the curling of their hair, and many minor "details, she sallied forth across Kensington Gardens to the ride, feeling tolerably sure that, in consequence of a hint she had dropped a day or two before, when taking afternoon tea in Mrs. Burnett's drawing'-room, Colonel Or- monde would probably be amongst the riders on his powerful chest- nut, ready to receive her rr port. She was quite sure he was very much srnLien, and eager to know what her changes with old Liddell might be ; and as her mother-in-law had a bad habit of presiding over her own tea-table, it would be more convenient to talk with her gay Lothario in the Park. Many admiring glances were cast upon the pretty little woman in becoming half-mourning, with the two golden-haired, sweet looking children and their trim maid, which < id not escape their object, and put her into excellent spirits. She felt she had gone forth conquer- ing and to conquer. About half-way down the row she recognized a well-known figure on a mighty horse, who cantered up to where she stood, followed by a groom. " Good-morning', Mrs. Liddell ; I thought this piece of fine weather would tempt you out," cried Colonel Ormonde, dismounting and throwing his rein to the groom, who led away the horse as if in obedience to some previously given command. " I protest you are a most tantalizing little woman!" heexclaimed, when they had shaken hands and he had patted the children's heads. " I have been looking for you this half-hour. Where did you hide vourself ?" "I did not hide myself. I am dying to tell you about my uncle.'' " Ah ! was he all your prophetic soul painted him?" " He was, and a good deal more. He is quite MI '.re, ami iivea 66 A CROOKED PATH. i in a miserable hovel. How Katherine can degrade herself by grovelling there with him for the sake of what she can get passes my understanding." " Deuced plucky, sensible girl ! She is quite right to stick to the old boy. Hope she will get his cash. Gad! with her eyes and his thousands, she'd rouse up society !" "Well, I believe she intends to have them all. She was quite vexed at my going over to see the ogre, and I think has prejudiced him against my poor darling boys, for as soon as he saw them he called out that ne could not receive any one, that he was ill and nervous. But I smiled my very best smile, and said I had come to introduce myself, and I hoped he would let me have a little talk with him. The poor old ogre looked at me rather kindly and earnestly when I said that, and I really do think he would have listened to me, but my sister-in-law would make me come away, as if the sight of me was enough to frighten a horso from his oats ; so somehow we got hustled upstairs, and there was an end of it." "Ah, Mrs. Liddell, you ought not to have allowed yourself to be outmanoeuvred," cried the Colonel, who greatly enjoyed irritating his pretty little friend. "Your beUe-sceur (as she really is) is too many for you. Don't you give up ; try again when the adorable Katherine is out of the way." "I fully intend to do so, I assure vou," cried Mrs. Frederic, her eyes sparkling, her heart beating with vexation, but determined to keep up the illusion of ingratiating herself with the miserly uncle. "Pray remember this is only a h'rst attempt." " I am sure you have my devout wishes for your success. How this wretched old hunk can resist such eyes, such a smile, as yours, is beyond my comprehension. If such a niece attacked me, I should surrender at the first demand." " I don't think you would" a little tartly. " 1 think you have as keen a regard for your own interest as most men." "lam sure you would despise me i* I had not, and the idea of being despised by you is intolerable." " You know I do not " very softly. " But it is time I turned and went toward home." "Nonsense, my dear Mrs. Liddell! or, if you will turn, let it be round Kensington Gardens. Do you know, I am going to Scotland next week, to Sir Ralph's moor ; then I expect a party to meet Errington at iny own place early in September ; so I shall not have many chances of seeing you until I run up just before Christmas. Now I am going to ask a great favor It's so hard to get a word with you except under the Argus eyes of that mother-in-law of yours." " What can it be?" opening her eyas. " Come with me to see this play they have been giving at the Adelphi. I have never had a spare evening to see it. Well leave early, and have a snug little supper at Verey'g, and I'll see you home." " It would be delightful, but out of the question, I am afraid: Mrs. Liddell has such severe ideas, and I dare not offend her." need she know anything about it ? Say oh, anything A CROOKED PATH. 67 that you are going with the Burnetts : they have gone to the Italian lakes, but I don't suppose she knows." The temptation was great, but the little widow was no fool in some ways. She saw her way to make something- of an impression on her worldly admirer. "No, Colonel Ormonde," she sa^l, shaking- her head, while she permitted the "suspicious moisture" to gather in her eyes. "It would indeed be a treat to a poor li:tle recluse like me, but thru there is not a bit of harm in it, or you would not ask me, I am sur>. I must not offend my mother-in-law ; and though Heaven knows ] am not straight-laced, I never will tell stories or act deceitfully if I can help it ; that is my only strong point, which has to make up for a thousand weak ones'." Colonel Ormonde looked at her with amazement ; her greatest charm to men such as he _was her dolliness, and this was a new departure. " Well," he said, in his most insinuating tones, "I thought you might have granted so much to an old friend and faithful admirer like myself. There is no great harm in my little plan." "Certainly not, but you see I must hold on to my mother-in-law : she is my only real stay. While pleasant and iriendly as you are, my dear Colonel " with a pretty little toss of her head "you will go off shooting, or hunting, or Heaven knows what, and it is quite possible I may never see your face again." "Oh, by George! you will not get rid of me so easily," cried Ormonde, ag'ood deartaken back. "I shall be very glad to see vou if you do turn up again," said Mrs. Liddell, graciously. " So as this will probably be the last time I shall see you for some months, pray tell me so'me amusing gossip." But gossip did not seem to come readily to Colonel Ormonde ; nevertheless they made a tour of the gardens in desultory conversa- tion, till Mrs. Liddell stopped decidedly, and bade him aclieu. " At last," said the cautious ex-dragoon, "you will write and tell me how you get on with this amiable old relative of yours." " I shall be very pleased to report progress, if you care to write and ask me, and fell me your whereabouts." "Then I suppose it is to be good -by ?" said Ormonde, almost senti- mentally. " You are treating me devilisWy ill." " I do not see that." Here the boys came running up, at a signal from their mother. " Well, my fine fellow," said Ormonde, laying his hand on Cecil's shoulder, " so you went to see your old uncle. Did fae try to eat you?" " No ; but he is a nasty cross old man. He wouldn't speak a word to mammy, but took his stick and hobbled away-." "Yes, he is a wicked man, and I c.m afraid he will hurt auntie," put in Charlie. Colonel Ormonde laughed rather more than the mother liked. ' think you may trust ' auntie ' to take care of herself. So you forced the old boy to retreat ? What awful stories your sister-in-law must have told of you !" to Mrs. Liddell. 68 A CROOKED PATH. She was greatly annoyed, but, urged by all-powerful self-interest, she maintained "a smooth face, ai.d answered, "Oh yes, when Katherine kept worrying about our disturbing her uncle, the poor old man got up and left the room." " Well, you must turn her flank, and be sure to let me know how matters progress. I suppose you will be here all the aucumn:''' "I should think so ; small chance of my going out of town," she returned, bitterly, and the words had scarce left her lips before she felishe had made a mistake. Men hate to be bothered with the dis- comforts of others. The result was that Colonel Ormonde cut short his adieux, and parted from her with less regret than he felt five minutes before. The young widow walked smartly back, holding her eldest boy's hand, and administered a sharp rebuke to him for talking too much. To which Cecil replied that he had only answered when he was spoken to. This elicited a scolding for his impertinence, and pro- duced further tart answers from the fluent young gentleman, which ended by his being dismissed iu a fury to Jane, vice Charles, pro- moted to walk beside mamma. As may be supposed, Mrs. Liddell lost no time about answering her daughter's note in person. In truth, toward the end of a w^-k's separation she generally began to hunger painfully for a sight of her Katie's face, to feel the clasp of her soft arms, and to this was added in the present instance serious uneasiness respecting the strain to which her sense of responsibility as nurse as well as house- keeper must subject so inexperienced a creature. It was rather late in the afternoon when Mrs. Liddell reached Legrave Crescent, and the servant showed her into the front parlor at once. Katherine almost feared to draw her uncle's attention to the visitor. He had had all the papers read to him, and even asked for some articles to be read a second time ; now after his dinner he seemed to doze. If he had not noticed Mrs. Liddell's entry she had perhaps better take her away upstairs at once, but while sfie thought she sprang to her and locked her in a close, silent embrace. Turning from her, he saw that Mr. Liddell's eyes were open and fixed upon them, and she said, softly : "I am sorry you have been disturbed. I shall take my mother to my room ; perhaps if you want anvthing you will ring for me." 'H will," he returned : and Mrs. Liddell thought his tone a little less harsh than usual. "I said you might come and see vour daughter when you like," he added" "and I repeat it. You nave brought her up inore usefully than I expected." Having spoken, he leaned his head back wearily and closed his eyes. "I am pleased to hear you say so," returned Mrs. Liddell, quietly, and immediately followed her daughter out of the room. "Oh, darling' mother, lam so delighted to have vou here all to myself ! It is even better than going home," cried Kate, when they were safe in her own special chamber. " But you are looking pale and worn and thin so much thinner !" " That is an improvement, Katherine," returned Mrs. Liddell; "I shall look all the younger." A CROOKED PATH. 69 "Ah ! but your face looks older, dear. What has been worrying 1 you '? Has Ada ' " Ada has never worried me, as you know, Katie," interrupted Mrs. Liddell. " She is not exactly the companion I should choose for every day of my life, but she has always been kind and nice with me." " Oh, she is not bad, and she would be clever if she managed to make HOU quarrel. I am quite different. Now I must get you some tea. Pray look round while I am gone, and see how comfortable it is ;" and Katherine hurried away. She soon returned, followed by Mrs. Knapp, who was glad to carry up the tea-tray to the pleasant, sensible lady who had engaged her for what proved to be not an uncomfortable situation. When, after a few civil words, she retired, with what delight and tender care Katie waited on her mother, putting a cushion at her back and a footstool under her feet, remembering ner taste in sugar, her little weakness for cream ! "It was very warm in the omnibus, I suppose, for you are looking better already." " I am better ; but, Katherine, your uncle is curiously changed. It is not so much that he looks ill, but by comparison so alarmingly amiable." "Well, he is less appalling than he was, and I have grown wonderfully accustomed to him. But for the monotony, it is not so bad as I expected, and it will be better now, as Mr. Newton is to give me the weeklv money. I think my uncle is trying to live." " Poor man ! he has little to live for," said Mrs. LiddeTl. " He wishes to outlive some other old man, because then he will get a good deal of money, according to some curious system called a 'Tontine.'" " Is it possible? The ruling passion, then, in his instance is strong 1 against death." " What a poverty-stricken life his has been, after all !" exclaimed Katherine. " Did Ada tell you how vexed he was at her visit ?" "She was greatly offended, but I should like your version of it." Katherine told her, and repeated Mr. Newton's inquiry about Mrs. Fred Liddell's family name. " Mr. Newton is very kind. He is very formal and precise, and very guarded in all he says, yet I feel that he likes me us and wotild like my uncle to do something for us." " I never hoped he ; would do as much as he has If he would re- member those poor little boys in his will it would be a great help. You and I could always manage together, Katie." " I wish that we were together by our own selves once more," returned Kate, nestling up to her mother on the big old-fashioned sofa, and resting her head on her shoulder. "I wish to God we were ! I miss you so awfully, my darling ! " There was a short silence while the two clung 'lovingly together. Then Katherine said, in a low tone, " Mr. Newton evidently thinks he my uncle has made a very unjust will, and fears he will never change it." " Most probably he will not ; but he ought not to cut off his natural heirs." 70 A CROOKED PATH. "Would Cecil and Charlie be his natural heirs?" " I suppose so, and something- would come to you too ; but I do not understand these matters. It is dreadful how mean and mercenary this terrible need for money makes one." "You want it very much, mother? There is trouble in your voice ; tell me what if is." "There is no special pressure, dear, just now; but unless I am more successful with my pen I greatly fear I shall get into debt before I can liberate myself from that ho\ise. Yet if I do, what will become of Ada and the boys ?" She paused to cough. Katherine was silent ; the tone of ner mother's voice told more than her words. " But," resumed Mrs. Liddell, "all is not black. The Dalston Weekly has taken my short story, and given me ten pounds for it. However, you must take the baa 1 with the good ; my poor three-decker has come back on my hands." Katherine uttered a low exclamation. "I did hope they would have taken it ! and what miserable pay for that bright, pretty story ! Mother, I cannot believe that the novel will fail. Do, do try'Santley & Son : I have always heard they were such nice people. Try promise me you wili." " Dear Katie, I will do whatever you ask me ; but but I confess I feel as if Hope, who has always befriended me, had turned her back at last. I am so dreadfully fired ! I feel as if I was never to rest. Oh for a couple of years of peace before I go hence, and a certainty that I/on would not want !" " Do not fear for me," cried Katherine, pressing her mother to her and covering her pale cheeks with kisses. " For myself I fear nothing, but for yon, I greatly fear you are unwell ; you breathe shortly ; vour hands are feverish. Do not let hope go. A few weeks" and my uncle will be stronger, or he may be invigorated by feeling he has killed out the other old man, and then I will go back to you and help you, whatever happens. I Avon't stay here to act compound interest. My own darling mother, keep up your heart." "1 am ashamed of 'myself," said Mrs. Liddell, in an unsteady voice. "1 ought not to have grieved your young heart with my depression, for I hnre been depressed." " Whv not ? "What is the good of youth and strength if it is not to uphold those who have already had ->ore than their share of life's burdens?" " I assure you this outpouring has relieved ma greatly: I shall return like a giant refreshed," said Mrs. Liddell, rallying gallantly; "and you may depend on my trying the fortune of my poor novel once more, with Santley & Son. * Now tell me how your domestic management prospers." A long confidential discussion ensued, and at hast Mrs. Liddell was obliged to leave. Katherine went to tell her uncle she was going to set her mother on her way, and to see his cup of beef tea served to him. His re- mark almost startled her. "Very well," he said. "Come back soon." This interview agitated Katherine more than Mrs. Liddell knew. Her worn look, her cough, her unwonted depression, thrilled her A CROOKED PATH. 71 daughter's warm heart with a passion of tender longing to he with her, to help her, to give her the rest she so sorely needed ; and in the solitude of her large dreary room she sobbed herself to sleep, her lips still quivering with the loving epithets she had murmured to CHAPTER VHI. "THE LONG TASK is DONE." THE facility with which human natitre assimilates new conditions is among its most remarkable attributes. A week had scarcely elaps d since John Liddell's sudden indisposition and subsidence into an invalid condition, yet it seemed to Katherine that he had been breakfasting in bed for ages, and might continue to do so for another cycle without change. Hor inexperience took no warning from the rapidly developing signs of decadence arid failing force which Mr. Newton perceived ; and, on the. whole, she found her task of house- keeper and caretaker less ungrateful since weakness had subdued her uncle, and the friendly lawyer had been appointed paymaster. The days sped with the swiftness monotony lends to time. Mrs. Liddell always visited her daughter once a week. Occasionally Katharine got leave of absence, and spent an hour or two at home, where she enjoyed a game of play with her little nephews. Other- wise home was less homelike than formerly. Ada was sulky and dissatisfied ; she dared not intrude on Mr. Liddell in his present con- dition ; and she was dreadfully annoyed at not being able to give Colonel Ormonde any encouraging news on this head. Her influence on the family circle, therefore, was not cheerful. Besides this, though Mrs. Liddell kept a brave front, and did not again allow her- self the luxury of confidence in her daughter, there were unmistak- able signs of care and trouble in her face, her voice. She was unfailing in her kind forbearance to the woman her son had loved, and whatever good existed in Mrs. Fred's rubbishy little heart responded to the genial, broad humanity of her mother-in-law. But Katherine perceived, or thought she perceived, that Mrs. Liddell was wearing' herself down in the effort to make her inmates comfort- able, and so to beat out her scanty store of sovereigns as to make them stretch to the margin of her necessities. It was a very shadowy and narrow pass through which her road of life led Katherine at this period, nor was there much prospect beyond. Moreover, as her mother had anticipated, th^ invisible cords which bound her to the moribund old miser were tightening their hold more and more, she often looked back and wondered at the sort of numbness which stole over her spirit during this time of trial. September was now in its first M'eek ; the weather was wet and cold ; and Katherine was thankful when Mr. Newton's weekly visit was due. It was particularly stormy that day, and he was a little later than usual. When she had left solicitor and client together for some time, she 72 A CROOKED PATH. descended, as was her custom, to make a cup of tea for the former, and give her uncle his beef tea or jelly. Mr. Newton rose, shook hands with her, and then resumed his conversation with Mr. Liddell. " I do not for a moment mean to say that he is a reckless bettor or a mere gambling- horse-racer ; and, after all, to ent.-r a horse or two for the local races, or even Newmarket, is perfectly allowable in a man of his fortune it will neither make him nor mar him." "It ->7/mar him," returned Mr. Liddell, in more energetic tones than Katherine had heard him utter since he was laid up. "A man who believes he is rich enough to throw away money is on the brink of ruin. He appears to me in a totally different light. I thought he was steady, thoughtful, alive to the responsibility of his position. Ah, who is to be trusted ? Who?" There eemed no reply to this, for Mr. Newton started a new and absorbing topic. "Mr. l-'ergusson is keeping wonderfully well," he remarked. "His frister was calling on my wife yesterday, and says that since he took this new food ' Eevalenta Arabica,' I 'think it 'is called he is quite a new man." " What food is that?" asked Mr. Liddell. While Newton explained, Katherine reflected with some wonder on the fact that there was a Mrs. Newton ; it had never come to her knowledge before. She tried to imagine the precis,? lawyer in love. Ho A did he propose? Surely on paper, in the most strictly legal terms ! Could he ever have felt the divine joy and exultation which loving and being loved must create? Had he little children ? and oh ! did he, could he, ever dance them on his knee ? He was a good man, she was sure, but goodness so starched and ironed was a lit le appalling. These fancies lasted till the description of Eevalenta Arabica was ended; then Mr. Liddell said, "Tell mv niece where to get it." Never had he called her niece before ; even Mr. Newton looked sur- prised. "I well send you the address," he said. " And here, Miss Liddell, is the check fer next week." "I have still some money from the last." said Katherine, blush- ing. [ had better give" it to you, and then the check need not be interfered with." She hated to speak of money before her uncle. "As you like. You are a good manager, Miss Liddell." "Give it to me," cried tli3 invalid from his easy-chair; "I will put it in my bureau. I have a few coins there, and they can go together." "Very well; but had not my uncle better write an acknowledg- ment? We shall be puzzled about the money when we come to reckon up at the end of the month, if he does not." Katherine had been taught by severe experience the necessity of saving herself harmless when handling Mr. LiddelPs money. "An acknowledgment," repe ted the old man, with a slight, sobbing, inward laugh. "That is well thought. Yes, by all means write it out, Mr. Newton, and I will sign. Oh yes ; I will sign !" A CROOKED PATH. T3 Newton turned to the writing-table and traced a few lines, bring- ing it on the blotting-pad for his client's signature. "I can sign steadily enough still," said Mr. Liddell, slowly, "and my name is j vnd for a few thousands. Hey ?" "That if ijertainlv is, Mr. Liddell.'' "Do you think old Fergusson could sign as steadily as that?" asked Mr. Liddell, with a slight, exulting- smile. "I should say not. What writing of his I have seen was a ter- rible scrawl." "Hum ! he wasn't a gentleman, you know. He drank too ; not to be intoxicated, but too much too much ! For he will find the tem- perance man too many for him. VU win the race, the waiting race ;" and he laug'hed again in a distressing, hysterical fashion, that quite exhausted him.' Katherine flew to fetch cold \vater, while the old man leaning back panting and breathless, and Mr. Newton, much alarmed, fanned him with a folded newspaper. He gradually recovered, but complained much of the beating of his heart. Mr. Newton wished to send for the doctor, but Mr. Lid- dell would not hear of it. Then he urged his allowing the servant at least to sleep on the sofa in the front parlor, leaving the door into Mr. Liddell's room open. To this the object of his solicitude was also opposed, so Mr. Newton bade him farewell. Katherine, however, waylaid him in the hall, and they held a short conference. "He really ought not to be left alone at night." "No, he must not," said Katherine. "I will make our servant spend the night in the parlor. She can easily open the door after the lights are out, without his being vexed bv knowing she is there. I could not sleep if I thought he was alone. I will come very early in the morning to relieve her. 1 ' "Do, my dear young lady. I will call on the doctor and beg him to come round early." " Do you think my uncle so ill, then?" "He 'is greatly changed, and his weakness makes me uneasy. I trust in God he may be spared a little longer." Katherine looked and felt surprised at the fervor of his tone. Little did she dream the real source of the friendly lawyer's anxiety to prolong a very profitless existence. After a few more remarks and a promise to come at anv time if he were needed, Mr. Newton departed ; and Katherine got through the dreary evening as best she could. How she longed to summon her mother ! but she feared to irritate her uncle, who was evidently unequal to bear the slightest agitation. Next day was unusually cold, and though Mr. Liddell had passed a tranquil night, he seemed averse to leave his bed. He lay there very quietly, and listened to the papers being read, and it was late in the afternoon before he would get up and dress. From this time forward he rarely rose till dusk, and it grew more and more an effort to him. He was always pleased to see Mr. Newton, and to converse a little with him. He even spoke with tolerable civility to Mrs. Liddell when she came to see her daughter. As the weather grew colder and autumn that year was very 74 A CROOKED PATH. wintry he objected more and more to leave his bed, and at last came to sitting up onlv for a couple of hours in the chair by his bed- room lire. It was during one of these intervals that Katherine, who hail been racking her brains for something to talk of that would in- tc.ivjst him, bethought her of a transaction in old newspapers which Mrs. Knapp had brought to a satisfactory conclusion. She therefore took out " certain moneys " from her purse. " We have sold the newspapers at last, uncle," she said. " I kept back some for our own use, so all 1 could get was a shilling and three halfpence." She placed the coins on a little table which stood bv his arm-chair, adding, "I suppose you know the Scotch saying, 4 Many mickles make a muckle ' ; even a few pence are better than a pile of useless papers." "I know," said Liddell, with feeble eagerness, clutching the money and transferring it to his little old purse. "It is a good saying a wise saying. I did not think you knew it ; but but why dia you keep back any ?" 'Because one always needs waste paper in a house, to light fires and cover things from dust. I shall collect more next time," she added, seeing the old man was pleased with the idea. He made no reply, but sat gazing at the red coals, his lips moving slightly, and the purse still in his hand. Again he opened it, and took out the coins she had given him, holding them to the lire-light in the hollow of his thin hand. "Do you know the value of money?" he said at length, looking piercingly at her. " Do you know the wonderful life it has a life of its own?" "If the want of can teach its value I ought to know," she re- turned. " You are wrong ! Poverty never teaches its worth. You never hold it and study it when, the moment you touch it, you have to exchange it for "commodities. No! it is when you can spare some for a precious seed, and watch its growth, and see see its power of self -multi plication if it is let alone just let alone," he repeated, with a touch of pathos in his voice. "Now these feAv pence, thirteen and a half in all a boy with an accumulative nature and youth, early South, on his sid'e, might build a fortune on these. Yes, he might, he had not a groviJing love of food and comfort." "Do you think he really could:' 1 " asked Kate, interested in spite of herself in the theories of the old miser. "Would you care to know ?" said her uncle, fixing his keen dark eyes upon her. " I should indeed." Her voice proved she was in earnest. "Then I will tell you, step by step, but not to-night. I am too weary. You are different from the others your father and your brother. You are yes, you are more like me," "God forbid !" was Katherine's mental ejaculation. Mr. Liddell slowly put the thirteenpence half pnny back in his purse, drew forth his bunch of keys, looked at them/ and restored them to his pocket ; then, resting his head wearilv against the chair, he said, " Give me something- to take and I will go to bed." A CROOKED PATH. 75 Katharine hastened to obey, and summoned the servant to r-'*'st him, as usual. The next morning* was cold and wet, with showers of sleet, and Mr. Liddell declared he had taken a chill, and refused to get up. He was indisposed to eat, and did not show any interest in the news- paper. About noon the doctor called. Mr. Liddell answered his questions civilly enough, but did not respond to his attempts at con- versation. " Your uncle is in a very low condition," said the doctor, when he came into the next room, where Katherine awaited him. "You must do your best to make him take nourishment, and keep him as warm as possible. I suppose Mr. Newton is always in town?" " I think so ; at least I never knew him to be absent since T came here. I rather expect him to-day or to-morrow. Do you think my uncle, seriously ill ?" " He is not really ill, but he has an incurable complaint old age. He ought not to be so weak as he is ; still, he may last some time, with your good care." Katherine took her needle-work and settled herself to keep watch by the old man. The doctor's inquiry for Mr. Newton had startled her but his subsequent words allayed her fears. "He may last for sow time," conveved to her mind the notion of an indefinite lease of life. Mr. Liddell seemed to be slumbering peacefully, when, after a long silence, during which Katherine's thoughts had traversed many a league of land and sea, he said suddenly, in stronger tones than usual, "Are you there? 1 ' He scarcely ever called her by her name. " I am," said Katherine, coming to the bedside. " Here, take these keys " he drew them from under his pillows ; " this one unlocks that bureau "pointing to a large old-fashioned piece of furniture, dark and polished, which stood on one side of the fireplace ; "open it, and in the top drawer left you will find a long, folded paper. Bring it to me." Katherine did as he directed, and could not help seeing the words, " Will of John Wilmot Liddell," and a date some seven or eight years back, inscribed upon it. She handed it to her uncle, arranging liis pillows so that he might sit up more comfortably, while she rather wondered at the commonplace aspect of so potent an instrument. A will, she imagined, was something huge, of parchment, with big seals attached. John Liddell slowly put on his spectacles, and unfolding the paper, read for some time in silence. " This will not do, " he said at last, clearly and firmly. "I was mistaken in him. The care for and of money must be born in you ; it cannot be taught. No, I can make a better disposition. Could you take care of money, girl?" he asked sternly. " I should try," returned Katherine, quietly. There was a pause. The old man lay thinking, his lean, brown hand lying on the open paper. " Write," he said at length, so sud- denly and sharply that he startled his niece ; get paper and write to 76 A CROOKED PATH. vton." Katherine brought the writing 1 materials, and placed her- j.iif at the small table. "Dear sir," he dictated " Be so good as to come to me as soon as convenient. lAvish to make a will more in accordance with my present knowledge than any executed by me formerly. I am, vours faith- fully." Kathorine brought over pen and paper, and the old man affixed his signature clearly. " Now fold it up and s >nd it to past. No take it yourself ; then it will be safe, and so much the better for you." Katherine called the good mUured Mrs. Knapp to take her place, ?ntl sallied forth. She was a good deal excited. Was she in a crisis of her fate ? Would her grim old uncle leave her wherewithal to give the dear mother rest and peace for the remainder of her days ? It would not take much ; would he oh, would he remember the poor little boys? She never divamed of more than a substantial legacy ; the bulk of his forum,; he might leave to whom he liked. How dreadful it was that m :ney should be such a grim necessity ! She felt oppressed, and made a small circuit returning, to enjov as much fresh air as she could and called at some of the shops where she was accustom >d Co deal, to save sending the servant later. She was growing a little nervous, and disliked being left alone in the house. When she returned, her uncle was very much in the same attitude ; but he had folded up his will and placed his hand under his head. " You have been very long'," he said, querulously. Katherine said she had been at one or two shops. "Read to me," he said, ''lam tired thinking; but first lock the bureau and give me the keys ; you left them hanging in the lock. I have never taken my eyes from them. Now I have them." he added, putting them \inder his pillow, "I can rest. Here, take this"- handing her the w 11 : "put it in the drawer of my writing-table ; we may want it to morrow ; and I do not wish that bureau opened again ; everything is there." Having placed the will as he desired, Katherine began to read, and the rest of the day passed as usual. She coiild not, however, prevent herself from listening for Mr. Newton's knock. She felt sure he would hasten to his client as soon as he had read his note. He would be but too glad to draw up another and a juster will. Without a word, without the slightest profession of friendship, Newton had managed to impress Katherine with the idea that he was anxious to induce Mr. Liddell to do what was right to his brother's widow and daughter. But night closed in, and no Mr. Newton came. Mr. Liddell was unusually wakeful and restless, and seemsd on the watch himself, his last words that night being, " I am sure Newton will be here in good time to-morrow." Instead, the morrow brought a dapper and extremely modern young man, the hsadof the firm in right of succession, his late father having foun led the house of Stephens & .Newton. A CROOKED PATH. 77 Mr. Liddell had just been made comfortable in his great invalid's chair by the fire, having 1 rissn earlier than usual in expectation of Mr. Newton's visit. When this gentleman presented himself, Kath- arine observed that her uncle was in a state of tremulous impatience, and the moment she saw the stranger she felt that some unlucky accident. had prevented Newton from obeying 1 his client's behest. " Who what?" gasped Mr. Liddell, when a card was handed to him. " Read it," to Katherine. "Mr. Stephens, of Stephens & Newton, Red Lion Square," she returned. "I will not see him, I do not want him," cried her uncle, angrily. " Where is Newton ? Go ask him ?" With an oppressive sense of embarrassment, Katherine went out into the hall, and confronted a short, slight young man with exceed- ingly tight trousers, a colored cambric tie, and a general air of being on the turf. He held a white hat in one hand, and on the other, which was ungloved, he wore a large seal ring. Katherine did not know how to say that her uncle would not see mm, but the stranger took the initiative. "Aw I have done myself the honor of coming in person to take Mr. Liddell's instructions, as Mr. Newton was called out of town by very particular business yesterday morning. I rather hop.'d lie might return last night, but a communication this morning informs us he will be detained till this afternoon, not reaching town till 9.-30 P.M. I am prepared to execute any directions in my partner's stead." lie spoke with an air of condescension, as if he did Mr. Liddell a high honor, and made a step forward. Katharine did not know what to say. It was terrible to keep this consequential little man in the hall. 'and there was literally nowhere else to take him. " I am so sorry, but my uncle is very unwell and nervous. I do not think he could see any one but Mr. Newton, who is an old friend, you know," she added, deprecatingly. "I am his bgal adviser too," returned the young man, with a slightly o 'Tended air. "I am the senior partner and Ju-ad of the house, and the worse Mr. Liddell is, the greater the necessity for his giving instructions respecting his will." "I will tell him Mr. Newton is away,' 1 said Katherine, cour- teously ; " and would you mind sitting down here? I arn quito distressed not to have any better place to offer you, but I cannot help >t." " It is of no consequence," returned the young lawyer, struck by her swest tones and simple good-breeding, yet looking round him at the worn oil-cloth and shabby stair-carpeting with manifest amazement. "Mr Newton is out of town, and does not return till late this evening," said Katherine, returning to the irate old man. "This gentleman says he is the head of the firm, and will do your bidding in Mr. Newton's stead." " Tell him he shall do nothing of the kind," returned Mr. Liddell, in a weak, hoarse, impatient voice. "I saw him once, and I know him: he is an ignorant, addle-pated jackanapes. He shall not A CROOKED PATH. muddle my affairs ; send him away ; I can wait for Newton. 1 don't suppose I am going- to die to-night! And Katharine, Tjl ushing " celestial rosy red," hied back to the smart young man, who Avas reposing himself on the only seat the entrance boasted, and conjecturing that if this tine, fair, soft-spoken firl was to be the old miser's heir, she would be almost deserving of is own mati-imonial intentions. " My uncle begs me to apologize to you, Mr. Stephens, but he is so much accustomed to Mr. Newton, and in such a nervous state, that he would prefer waiting till that ge ..tleman can come." "Oh, very well ; only I wish I had known before I came up here at some inconvenience ; and also wish Mr. Liddell could be per- suaded that delays are dangerous." "The delay is"not for very long. I am sorry you had this fruit- less trouble. Mr. Liddell is' very weak." " I am sure if anything could restore him, it would be the care of such a nurse as you must be,'' with a bow and a grin. "Thank you ; good-morning," said Katherine, with such an air of decided dismissal that the young senior partner at once departed. Mr. Liddell fretted and fumed for an hour or two before he had exhausted himself sufficiently to sit still and listen to Katherine's reading ; and after he had apparently sunk into a doze, he suddenly started up and exclaimed : " That idiot, young Stephens, will never think of sending to his house. Write write to Newton's private residence." "I think Mr. Stephens will, uncle. He seemed anxious to meet your wishes." " Don't be a fool do as I bid you ! Get the paper and pen. Are you readv ?" "lam?' " Dear sir, Let nothing prevent your coming to me to-morrow," he dictated ; "I want to make my will. It is.important that affairs be not left in confusion. Yours truly. Give me the pen," he went on, in the same breath. "I can sign as well as ever. Now go vou yourself and put this in the post. I do not trust that woman they all stop and gossip, and I want this to go by the next despatch." Katherine. always thankful to be in the air, went readily enough. Shs was distressed to find how the nervous uneasiness of yesterday was growing on her. The perpetual companionship of the'grim old skeleton, her uncle, was making her morbid, shethoug-ht ; she must ask leave to go and spend a day at home to see how her mother was getting on, to refresh herself by a game of romps with the children. Why, she felt absolutely growing old ! When she re-entered the house she found, much to her satisfaction, that the doctor was with Mr. Liddell ; and after laying aside her out-door dress, she went to the parlor. " I have been advising Mr. Liddell to try theeffectof a few glasses of champagne," said the former, who was looking rather grave, Katherine thought. "But as there is none in his cellar, he objects. Now you must help me to persuade him. I am going on to a patient in Regent's Park, and shall pass a very respectable wine-merchant's on my way ; so I shall just take the law into my own hands and A CROOKED PATH. 79 order a couple of bottles for you. Consider it medicine. It is won- derful how much more generally champagne is used than when you and I were young, my dear sir !" etc., etc., he went on, with pro- fessional cheerfulness. But Mr. Liddell did not heed him much. " He is very weak. The action of the heart is extremely feeble." said the doctor, when Katherine followed him to the door. " Trv and make him take the champagne." Another day dragged through ; then Katherine, rather worn with the constant involuntary sense of watching which had strained her nerves all day, slept soundly and dreamlessly. She woke early next morning, and was soon dressed. Mrs. Knapp reported Mr. Liddell J to be still slumbering. "But law, miss, he have had a bad night the worst yet, I think. He was dreaming and tossing from side to side, and then he would scream out words I couldn't understand. I made him take some wine between two and three, but I do not think he knew me a bit. I have had a dreadful night of it." Katherine expressed her sympathy, and did what she could to lighten the good woman's labors. Mr. Liddell, however, though he looked ghastly, seemed rather stronger than usual. He insisted on getting up, and came into the sitting-room about eleven. It was a cold morning, with a thick, drizzling rain. Katherine made up the fire to a cheerful glow, and by her uncle's directions E laced pen, ink and paper on the small table he always had beside im. Then he uttered the accustomed commanding' "Read," and Katherine read. Suddenly he interrupted her by exclaiming. "Give me the deaths first." It had been a whim of his latterly to have this lugubrious list read to him every day. Kaiherine had hardly commenced when she descried Mr. Newton's well-known figure advancing from the garden gate. " Ah, here is Mr. Newton !" she exclaimed. " Ha ! that is well," cried her uncle, with shrill exultation. "Now now all will go right." The next moment the lawyer was shown in, and having greeted them, proceeded to apologize for his unavoidable absence. "Here I am, however, sir, "he concluded, "at your service." "Go leave us," said Liddell, abruptly yet not unkindly, to Katherine ; then, as she left the room, "Finish the deaths for me, will you, before we go to business. She had just read I'he first t\vo. Read make haste !" Somewhat surprised, Mr. Newton took up the paper and continued: " ' On the 30th September, at Wimbledon, universally regretted, the Rev. James Johnson, formerly minister of "Little Bethel, Ber- mondsey." On October 1st, at her residence, Upper Clapton, Esther, relict of Captain Doubledav, late of the E. I. C. Service. On the 2nd instant, at Bournemouth, Peter Fergusson, of Upper Baker Street, in the seventy -fifth year of his age.' " " Fergusso'n dead'! and he is three years my iunior ' Now it is all mine all ! all ! I shall be able to settle it as I like. I haven't eaten 80 A CROOKED PATH. - and drunk in vain. I'm strong 1 , quite strong. All the papers are there, in my bureau. I'll show them to you. Aha ! I thought I'd outlive him ! I was determined to outlive him !'' AVifh an uncanny laugh he struggled to his feet, and attempted to walk to his bedroom, his stick in one hand and the keys he had taken from his pjcxet in the other. For a few. steps he walked with a degree of strength that astonished Newton ; then he gave a deep groan, staggered, and fell to the ground with a crash. Newton rushed to raise him, which he did with so.-ne difficulty. The noise brought the servant to his assistance. " Go ! fetch Dr. Bilhane," s^iid Mr. Newton, as soon as they had mid the helpless body on the bad. Though I doubt if he can do any- thing. The old man is gone." CHAPTER IX. "TE M PT ATION." To Katherine, who was in her own room, the sound beneath came with a subdued force, and knowing Mr. Newton was with him, she thought it better te stay where she was, for it never struck her that Mr. Liddell had fallen. When, therefore, Mrs. Knapp, with that eagerness to spread evil tidings peculiar to her class, rushed upstairs to announce breathlessly that she was going for the doctor, but that the pjor old gentleman was quite dead, Katherine could not believe her. She quickly descended to the parlor, where she found Mr. Newton standing by the fire, looking pale and anxious. "Oh, Mr. Newton, he cannot be dead !" cried Katherine. "He seemed stronger this morning, and he has fainted more tham once. Let me bathe his temples." She took a bottle of eau-de-Cologne from the sideboard as she spoke. " My dear young lady, both vour servant and I have done what we could to revive him", and I fear I believe he has passed away. The start and the triumph of finding himself the last survivor of the Tontine association were top much for his weak heart. I would not go in if I were you : death is appalling to the young." Katherine stopped, half frightened, yet ashamed of her fear. " Oh yes ; I must satisfy myself that I can do nothing mo.;: for him. Can it be possible that "he will never speak again never search for news of that other poor old man?" She went softlv into the next room, followed by Newton, and approaching the bed, laid her hand gently on his brow. ' ' How awfully cold !" she whispered, shrinking back in spite of herself at the unutterable chill of death. " But he looks so peaceful, so different from what he did in life !" She stood gazing at him, silent, awe-struck. "Come away," said Newton, kindly. "The doctor will be here, I trust, in a few minutes, and will be able to give a certificate which will save the worry of an inquest." Katherine obeyed his gesture of entreaty, and went slowly into A CROOKED PATH. 81 the front room, where she sat down, leaning her elbows on the table and covering her face with her hands, while Mr. Newton closed the door. It was all over, then, her hopes and fears ; the poor wasted life, as much wasted and useless as if spoilt in the wildest and most ex- travagant follies, was finished. What had it left behind ? Nothing of good to any human being- ; no blessing 1 of loving-kindness, of help and sympathy, to any su Tering; brother wayfarer on life's high- road ; nothing but hard, naked gold gold which, from what she had hoard, would go to one already abundantly provided. Ah, she must not think of that gold so sorely needed, or bad, unseemly ideas would master her ! But Mr. Newton was speaking. "It is fortunate I was here to be some stay to you," he said ; "the shock must be very great, and He interrupted himself hastily to exclaim, "Here is the doctor ! I shall go with him into our poor friend's room ; let me find you here when I come back." Katherine bent her head, and remained in the same attitude, thinking, thinking. How long it was before the kind lawyer returned she did not know ; but he came and stood by her, the "doctor behind him. " It is as I supposed,'' said Newton, in a low tone. " Life is quite extinct." Katherine rose and confronted them, looking very white. " Yes," added the doctor ; "death must have been instantaneous. Your uncle was in a condition which made him liable to succumb under the slightest shock. Can you give me paper and ink ? I will write a certificate at once. Then, Miss Liddell, I shall look to you." Katherine placed the writing materials before him silently, and watched him trace the lines ; then he handed the paper to Mr. New- ton, saying, "You will see to what is necessary I presume," and rising he took Katherine's hand and felt her pulse. " Very unsteady indeed ; I would recommend a glass of wine now, and at night a composing draught, which I will send. If I can do nothing more I must go on my rounds. I shall be at home again about six, should you require my services in any way." He went out^ followed by Mr. Newton, and they spoke together for a few moments before the'doctor entered his carriage and "drove off. "Now, my dear," said Mr. Newton, when he returned the start- ling event of the morning seemed to have taken off the sharp edge of his precision " what shall you do? 1 suppose you would like to go home. It would be rather frying for you to stay here." "To go home !" returned Katherine, slowly. "Yes, I should, oh, very much ! but I will not go. My uncle never was unkind to me, and I will stay in his house until he is laid in his last resting-place. Yet 1 do not like to stay alone. May I have mv mother with me?" " Yes. by all means. I tell yon what, I will drive over and break the news to her myself; then she can come to you at once. I have a very particular appointment in the city this afternoon, but 1 shall arrange to spend to-morrow forenoon here, and examine the contents of that bureau. I have thought it well to take possession of your uncle's keys." "Yes, of course," said Katherine; "you ought to have them. And you will go and send my mother to me ! I shall feel quite well 82 A CROOKED PATH. and strong- if she is near. How good of you to think of it !" and she raised her dark tearful eyes so gratefully to his that the worthy law- yer's h-iart kindled within him. "My dear voting lady, I have raivly, if ever, regretted anything SO much as niy un.'i nunate absence yesterday, though had 1 IKVH able to answer my 1 ite client's iirst summons, I doubt if time would hare permitted ttie completion of a new will. Now my best hope, ':.'iough it is a very faint one, is that he may have destroyed his lasr. .ill, and so died intestate." " "Why ?" asked Katherine, indifferently. She felt very h< .; ' It would be better for you. You would, I rather think, be tin natural heir.' 1 Katherine only shook her head. " Of course it is iiot likely. Still, I have known him destroy one will before he ma ie another. He has made four or five, to my knowledge. So it is \siser not to hope for anything. I shall always do what I can for you. Now you are quite cold and shivering. I would advise your going to your room, and keeping there out of the way. You can do no more for your uncle, and I will send your mother to you as soon as I can. 1 suppose you have the keys of the house?" Katherine bowed her head. She seemed tongue-tied. Only when Mr. Newton took her hand to say good-by she burst out, "You will send my mother to me soon soon !" Then she went away to her own room. Locking the door, she sat down and buried her face in the CTishions of the sofa. She felt her thoughts in the wildest confusion, as if some separate exterior self was exerting a strange power over her. It had said to her, " Be silent," when Mr. Newton spoke of the possibility of not finding 1 the will, and she, had obeyed without the smallest intention to do ""good or evil. Some force she could not resist or rather she did not dream of resisting imposed silence on her. To what had this silence committed her? To nothing. When Mr. Newton came and ex- amined the bureau he would no doubt open the drawer of the writing- table also. She had locked it, and put the key in the little basket where the keys of her scantily supplied store closet and of the cellarec lay ; there it stood on the round table near the window, with her ink- bottle and blotting-book. She sat up and looked at it fixedly. That little key was all that intervened between her and rest, freedom, en- joyment. The more she recalled her uncle's words and manner on the day he had dictated his first note to Mr. Newton, the more con- vinced she felt that he had intended to provide for her, and now hig intentions would be frustrated, and the will the old man wished to suppress would be the instrument by which his possessions would be distributed. It was too bad. She did not know how closely the hope of her mother's emancipation from the long hard struggle with poverty and its attendant evils bv means of Uncle LiddeH's possible bequest had twined itself round her heart. Now she coald not give it up. It seemed to her that her mental grasp refused to relax. She rose and began to make some little arrangement for her mother's comfort, and presently the servant came to ask if she would take some tea. "I'm sure, miss, you must be faint for want of food, and we are just going to have some the woman and me." A CROOKED PATH. 83 "What woman?" " A very respectable person as Dr. Bilham sent in to to attend to the poor old gentleman, miss." . "Ah ! thank you. I could not take anything now, I expect my mother soon ; then I shall be glad of some tea." " Well, miss, you'll ring if you want me. And dear me ! you ought to have a bit of tire. I'll light one up in a minnit." " Not till you have had your tea. I am not cold " "You look awful bad, miss!" With this comforting assurance Mrs. Knapp departed, leaving the door partially open. A muffled sound, as if people were moving softly and cautiously, ' was wafted to Katherine as she sat and listened : then a door closed gently ; voices murmuring in a subdued tone reached her ear, re- treating as if the speakers had gone down -stairs. Katherine went to the window. It was a wretchedly dark, driz- zling afternoon cold too, with gusts of wind. She hoped Mr New- ton would make her mother take a cab. It was no weather for her to stand about waiting for an omnibus. Would the time ever come when they need not think of pennies? Suddenly she turned, took a key from her basket, and walked composedly down-stairs, unlocked the drawer of the writing-table, and took out her uncle's last will and testament. Then she closed the drawer, leaving the key in the lock, as it had always been, and returned to her room. Having fastened her door, she applied herself to read the docu- ment. It was short and simple, and with the exception of a small legacy to Mr. Newton, left all the testator possessed to a man whose name was utterly unknown to her. Mr. Newton was the sole exe- cutor, and the will was dated nearly seven years back. Katherine read it through a second time, and then very deliber- ately folded it up. " It shall not stand in my, way," she murmured, her lips closing tirmly, and she sat fora few minutes holding it tight in her hand, as she thought steadily what she should do. "Had my uncle lived a few hours more, this would have been destroyed or nullified. I will carry out his intentions. I wonder what is the legal penalty for the crime or felony I am going to commit ? At all events I shall risk it. The only punishment I fear is my mother's condemnation. She must never know. It is a huge theft, whether the man I rob is rich or poor. I hope he is very rich. I know I am doing a great wrong ; that if others acted as I am acting there would be small security for property perhaps for life but Til do it. Shall I ever be able to hold up my head and look honest folk in the face ' I will try. If I commit this robbery I must not falter nor repent. I must be" consistently, boldly false, and I must get done with it before my dearest mother "comes. How grieved and disappointed she would be if she knew ! She believes so tirmly in my truthfulness. Well, I have been true, and I will be, save in this. Here I will lie by silence. Where shall I hide it ? for I will not destroy it not yet at least. No elaborate concealment is necessary." j She rose up and took some thin brown paper such as is used in shops to wrap up lace and ribbons and folded the will in it neatly, (tying it up with twine, and writing 1 on it, "old MSS., to be destroy' 84 A CROOKED PATH. ed." Then she laid it in the bottom of her box. "If my mother sees it, the idea of old MS. will certainly deter her from looking at it." She put back the thing's she had taken out and clos/d the box ; then she stood for a moment of thought. What would the result be? Who could tell ? Some other unknown Liddells might start up to share the inheritance. Well, she would not mind "that much , so long as she could secure some years of modest compeienc.; to her mother, some, help for her little nephews, she would be. content. Now that she had accomplished what an hour ago was a scarcely entertained idea, she felt wonderfully calm, hut curious as to how things would turn out, with the sort of curiosity she might have felt with regard to the action of another. She did not want to be still any more, however , she went to and fro in her room, dusting it and putting it in order , she rearranged her own hair and dress, and then she went to the window to watch for her mother. Time had goneswiftly while her thoughts had been so intensely occupied, and to her great delight she soon saw a cab drive up, from which Mrs. Liddell descended. Katherine flew to receive har, and in the joy of feeling her mother once more by her side she temporarily forgot the sense of a desper- ate deed which had oppressed her. Mrs. Liddell had been much shocked by the sudden death of her brother-in-law, but her chief anxiety was to fly to Katie, to shorten the terrible hours of loneliness in the house of mourning 1 . She too honestly confessed her regret that the old man had been cut off before he could fulfil his intention of making a new will, " though," she said to her daughter as they talked together, " we cannot be sure that he would have remembered us or rather you. But there is no use in thinking of what is past out of the range of possibilities. Let us only hope whoever is heir will not insist on immediate repayment of that loan. It is strange that you should have managed to make the poor old man's acquaintance, and to a certain degree succeed with him, only in his last days." "Try and talk of something else, mother dear. It is all so ghastly and oppressive ! Tell me about Ada and the boys." " Ada was out when Mr. Newton came. I left a little note telling her of your uncle's awfully sudden death, and of my intention of re- maining with you until after the funeral. What a state of excite- ment she will be in ! I have no doubt she will be here to-morrow." " Very likely," said Katherine, who was pouring out tea. "Did Mr. Newton mention to you that your uncle had written to him to come and draw up a new will?" " Why, I wrote the note, which my uncle signed." " Yes, of course ; I had forgotten." But did Mr. Newton say that he had a faint hop that he might have destroyed the other will?" " He did ; but it is not probable." " It would make an immense difference to us if he had." " Would it?" asked Kate, to extract an answer from her mother. " Mr. Newton believes that if he died intestate you would inherit everything." " What ! would not the little boys share ?" "I am not sure. Dut to get away from the subject, which some- A CROOKED PATH. 85 how always draws me back to it, I have one bit of good news for you, my darling-. I had a letter from Santley this morning-. He will take my novel, and will g-ive me a hundred and fifty pounds for it." " Really? Oh, this is g-lorious news ! I am so delig-hted ! Then you will get more for the next ; you will become known and ap- preciated." " Do not be too sure ; it may be a failure. And at present I do not feel as if I should ever have any ideas again. My brain seems so wearv. " Perhaps," whispered Katherine, " you may be able to rest. You are looking- very tired and ill." Somewhat to her own surprise, Katherine slept profoundly that night. The delicious sense of comfort and security which her mother's presence brought soothed her ineffably. It seemed as if no harm could touch her while she felt the clasp of those dear arms The early forenoon brought Mr. Newton, and after a little pre- liminary talk respecting the arrangements he had made for the funeral, he proposed to look for the will which he had drawn up some years before, and which, to the best of his recollection, Mr. Liddell had taken charge of himself. " Might you not wait until the poor old man is laid in his last home ?" asked Mrs. Liddell. "Perhaps it would be more seemly, "said the lawyer; "but it is almost necessary to know who is the heir and who is the executor. Besides, it is quite possible that since he signed the will I drew up for him in '59, and to which I was executor, he may have made ano'her. of which I know nothing, and I may have to "communicate with some other executor. I Avill therefore begin the search at once. Would you and your daughter like to be present?" " Thank you, no," returned Mrs. Liddell. "I would rather not," said Katherine. Mr. Newton proceeded on his search alone, while Mrs. Liddell and her daughter went to the latter's room, anxious to keep from med- dling with what did not concern them. Scarcely had the former settled herself to write a letter to an old Frederic Liddell, who came in briskly. She had taken out a black dress with crape on it, and retouched a mourning bonnet, so that she presented an appearance perfectly suited to the occasion. " Oh dear !" she cried, " I have been in such a state ever since I had your note ! I thought I should never get away this mornino- The stupidity of those servants is beyond description. Now do tall all about everything." She sat down suddenly, then jumped up kissed her mother-in-law on the brow, and shook hands with Kath- erine. "There is very little more f o tell beyond what I said in my note " returned Mrs. Liddell. " The poor old man never spoke or' showed any sympton of life after he fell. Mr. Newton, of course, will make 86 A CROOKED PATH. *V " rrangements. The funeral will be on Friday, and Katherine i...u 1 will remain here till it is over." "Andthe will?" whispered Mrs. Frederic, eagerly. "Have you found out anything about th-: Mrs. Liddell shook her h.j.-t. "I have not even asked, so sure am I that it will not affect us in any "way. Mr. Newton is now ex- amining the bureau where my brother-in-law appears to have kept all his papers, hoping to find the will." " Is it not cruel to think of all this wealth passing away from us ?" cried the little woman, in a tearful tone. "I do not suppose that John Liddell was wealthy," said Mrs. Liddell. "He was very careful of what he had, but it does not fol- low that he had a great deal." "Oh, nonsense ! My dear Mrs. Liddell, you. only say that to keep us quiet. Misers always have heaps of money. What do you say, Katherine ?" "That from all I saw I should say he was not rich. He never mentioned large sums of money, or ' "I do not mind you," interrupted the young widow. " You always affect to despise money." "Indeed I do not, Ada. I am only afraid of thinking too much of it." Katherine perceived that her mother had wisely abstained from telling the whole circumstances to this most impulsive young person. "And do you mean to say," pursued Mrs. Frederic, who could hardly keep still, so great was ner excitement, "that the horrid lawyer is rummaging through the old man's papers all alone? You ought to be present, Mrs. Liddell. You don't know what tricks he may play. He may put a will in his own favor in some drawer. It is very weak not to have insisted on being present, and shows such indifference to our interests !" "I am not afraid of Mr. Newton forging a will," said Mrs. Lid- dell, smiling ; "and I greatly fear that whoever may profit bv the old man's last testament, we will not. But I assure you Mr. 'New- ton did ask me to assist in the search, and I declined. Indeed I asked him not to search while the poor remains were unburied." " Why, my goodness ! you do not mean to say you are pretending to be sorry for this rude "miser !" cried Mrs. Frederic, with uplifted hand and eyes. " Personally I did not care about him, but, Ada, death demands respect. " " Oh yes, of course. Then there is absolutely nothing to do or to hear." "Nothing," said Katherine, rather shortly. " Could I go out and buy anything for you ? Surely the executors, whoever they may be, will give you some money for mourning ?" " I do not think it at all likelv. I will tell you what you can do, Ada: go to my large cupboard" and bring me," etc., etc. sundry directions followed. " Katherine and I can quite well do all that is necessary ourselves to make a proper appearance on Friday." ; Very well ; and I will come to the funeral too, and bring tho boys. A little crape on their caps and sleeves will be quite enough. A CROOKED PATH. Thev will produce a great effect. I dare say if I speak to Mrs. Bur- nett's friend, that newspaper man, he will put an account into the Morning Xeic* : with all our names. Whatever comes, it would have a arood effect." "Of course vou can come if you like, Ada, but I would not bring- the boys. Children are out of place except at a parent a l, I do not agree with you, and I do not think you need eruo-e mv poor children that much recognition." " Poor darlings ! Do you believe we could grudge them anything that was good for them ?" cried Katherine. "Oh there is no knowing ! Pray is there any plate in the house, Katherine, or diamonds? You know the nephew's wife ought to have the diamonds !" " Do not make me laugh, Ada, while the poor man is lying dead !' exclaimed Katherine, smiling. "The idea of plate or diamonds in this house is too funny !" " Then are the spoons and forks only Sheffield ware? asked her sister-in-law. ' ' How mean !" After a -ood deal more cross-examination Mrs. Fred rose to de- part her pretty childish face clouded, not to say very cross. "I might have saved myself the trouble of coming here, she fin. id " We are very glad to see you, and it will be a great help if you can send or bring the things I want." ' Perhaps if I wait a little longer, this admirable Mr. Newton may find something," resumed Mrs. Fred, pausing, and reluctant IfhedoesI will let you know immediately," said Katherine; " but there are numbers"of little drawers in the bureau ; it will take him a long time to look through them all/' " Have vou seen the inside of it?" asked Mrs. Fred, greedily. "I have* seen my uncle writing at it," returned Katherine ; "but I never had an opportunity of examining it " "Well I suppose I had better go. 1 am evidently not wanted her" reclaimed Mrs. Frederic, longing to quarrel with some one, iK'iiW in that condition of mind aptly described as "not knowing what* to be at" Finding no help from her auditors, she went re- luct ntlv away " I wish poor Ada would not allow her imagination to run away with her It will be such a disappointment when she h'nds it is all, much ado about nothing," said Mrs Liddell, as she returned to her letter. " 1 am afraid, Katie dear, you have had a great shock ; you do not look a bit like yourself." "I feel dazed and stupid, but I dare say I shall be all right to- morrow " She took a book and pretended to read, while her mother's pen scratched lightly and quickly over the paper Tlv> li-ht was beginning to change, when a message from Mr. Newton summoned both mother and daughter to the sitting-room, where they found him awaiting thorn- "I have looked most carefully through the bureau, and can find no sign of the will. There are various papers and account-books, a 8& A CROOKED PATR very clear statement of his affairs, and about a hundred and fif- teen pounds of ready money, but no will. I have also looked in his writing-table drawer, his wardrobe, and every possible and im- possible place. It may be at my office, though I am under the im- pression he took charge of it himself. There is a possibility lie may nave deposited it at his banker's or his stock-broker's, though that is not probable." "It is curious," remarked Mrs. Liddell, feeling she must say something. " Pray," resumed Newton, addressing Katherine, "have youever seen him tearing up or burning papers;"' She thought for a moment, and then said quietly, "No, I never have." " I can do no more here, at least to-day," Newton went on. " I must bid you a good -afternoon. You may be sure I will leave nothing undone to discover the missing will, and I can only say I earnestly hope I may not be successful." CHAPTER X. "FRUITION." THE funeral over, Mrs. Liddell and her daughter went back to their modest home, feeling as though they had passed through some strange dream, which had vanished, leaving "not a wrack behind." To Katherine it was like fresh life to return to the natural cheer- ful routine of her daily cares and employments, to struggle good- humoredly with indifferent servants, to do battle with her little nephews over their lessons, to walk with them and tell them stories. At times she almost forgot that the diligently sought will lay in its innocent-looking cover among her clothes, or that any results would now from her daring and criminal act ; then again the consciousness of having weighted her life with a secret she must never reveal would press painfully ujxm her, and make her greedy for the moment when Mr. Newton would relinquish the search, and she should reap the harvest she expected. She never believed that her uncle was as rich as Ada supposed, but she did hope for a smaTl fortune which might secure comfort and ease. Mrs. Frederic Liddell was a real a'fliction during this period. Ths idea of inheriting John I^ldi-ll's supposed wealth was never absent from her thoughts, and seldom from her lips. Even the boys were infected by her gorgeous anticipations. " I shall have a pony like, that, and a groom to ride beside me" Cecil would cry when his attention was caught by any young eques- trian. "And I will give you a ride, auntie. Shall you have a car- riage too, or will you drive with mammy ;"' " And I shall have a beautiful dog, like Mrs. Burnett's, and a garden aAvay in the country," was Charlie's scheme. "You shall come and dig iu it, auntie." A CROOKED PATH. 89 "Do not think of such things, my denrs." v/as auntie's usual reply. "I am afraid we shall never DO any ri-;i.'r than we are ; so you must be diligent boys, and work hard to make fortunes for your- selves." quite " Had he a big- place in a cave, with fr.-es that grow rubies and diamonds and beautiful things?'' added Charlie. "Why doesn't mamma buy us some ponies now?" continued Cis ; "we should be sometime leaVning to ride." " I will not listen to you any more if you talk so foolishly. Try and think of something- else of the Christmas pantomime. You know grannie says you shall go if you do your lessons well," re- turned Katherine. "It isn't silly!" exclaimed Cecil. "Mammy tells us we must take care of her when we are rich men, and that we shall be able to hold up our heads as high as any one. / can hold up my head now." Such conversations were of frequent occurrence, and kept Katherine in a state of mental irritation. Toward the end of October Mrs. Burnett brought relief in the shape of an invitation to Mrs. Frederic. The Burnett family were spending the " dark days before Christ- mas" at Brighton, and thither hied the lively young widow in great glee. Things generally went smoother in her absence ; the boys were more obedient, the meals more punctual. Nevertheless Katherine observed that her mother did not settle to her writing as usual. Occasionally she shut herself up in the study, but when Katherine came in unexpectedly she generally found her resting her elbow on the table and her head on her hand, gazing at the blank sheet before her, or leaning back in her chair, evidently lost in thought. " You do not seem to take much to your writing, mother dear," said Katherine one mornitj as she entered and sat down on a stool beside her. "In truth I cannot, Katie. I do not know how it is, but no plots will come. I have generally been able to devise something on which to hang my characters and events ; but my invention, such as it is or rather was seems dried up and withered. What shall I do if my slight vein is exhausted.- 1 Heaven knows I produced nothing very original or remarkable, but my lifciibrations were saleable, and I do not see how we can do without this source of income." " You only want rest," returned Katherine, taking hrr hand and laying her cheek against it. " Your fancy wants a quiet sleep, and then it will wake up fresh and bright. Take a holiday : put away pen, ink, and paper ; and you will b;; able to write a lovely story- long before the in >m\v we expact f >r your novel is expanded." "I hope so." She paused, and then resinmd, with a sigh: "I ought to have more sense and self-control at my age, but I confess that the uncertainty about John Liddell's will absorbs me. Suppose, 90 A CROOKED PATa Katie, that his money were to come to you. Imagine you and I rich enough not to be afraid of the week after next ! Why, our lives would be too blissful." "They would," murmured Katherine. " When do you think we shall know?" " I cannot tell. All possible search must be made before the law can be satisfied. My own impression is that your uncle did de- stroy his will, intending to make a different distribution of his money, and to provide for you." "Yes, I believe he did," said Katherine, quietly. "I wish oh, I do wish my uncle had had time to divide his property between us all ; then there would be no ill feeling. But I suppose Cis and Charlie will get some, even if no will is found?" ' ' I have no idea. If poor Fred had lived, I suppose he would take a share." They sat silent for some minutes. Then Kate rose and very de- libarately shut up her mother's writing-book, collected her papers and rough note-book, and locked them away in her drawer. "Now, dearest mother," she said, " promise me not to open that drawer for ten days at least, unless a very strong inspiration comes to you. By that time we may know something certain about the will, and at any rate you will have had change of occiipation. Then put on your bonnet and let us go to see our friend Mrs. Wray. Perhaps she may let us see her husband's studio, and if he is there we are sure to have some interesting talk. We both sorely need a change of ideas." Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from Brighton in a very thought- ful mood. Sha said she had had a "heavenly visit." Such nice weather such a contrast to dirty, dreary, depressing London ! She had met several old acquaintances, they had had company every night, and had she only nad a third evening dress her bliss would have been complete. "As it was, a slight sense of inferiority had taken the keen edge off her joy. "At any rate, the men didn't seem to think there was much amiss with me. Sir Ralph Brereton and Colonel Ormonde were really quite troublesome. I do not much like Sir Ralph. I never know if he is laughing at me or not, though I am sure I do not think there is any thing to laugh at in me. Colonel Ormonde is so kind and sensible ! Do you know, Mrs. Liddell, he &,iys / ought to see Mr. Newton myself, to look after the interests of my darling boys, and and try to ascertain the true state of affairs. That is what Colonel Ormonde says, and I suppose you wouldn't mind. Mrs. Liddell?" she ended, in a rather supplicating tone : for sho was just a li:tle in awe of her mother in-law, kind and indulgent though she was. " Go and see Mr. Newton by all means, Ada, if you feel it would be any satisfaction to you ; but until the right time comes it will be very useless to make any inquiries. We leave it all to Mr. Newton." " Oh, you and Katherine are so cold and immovable ; vou are not a bit like me. I am all sensitiveness and impulse. Well, if it is not raining cats a d dogs I will go into that awful City and see Mr. Newton to-morrow." A CROOKED PATH. 91 "Would it not be well to make an appointment?" " Oh dear no ! I will take my chance ; I would not write. Katie dear, I have torn all the flounce oft' my black and white dinner dress ; you are so much more clever with your needle than I am, vrould you sew it on for me to-morrow?" " No, I cannot, Ada not to-morrow at least. I am busy altering 1 mother's winter cloak, and she has nothing 1 warm to put "on until it is finished. I will show you how to arrange the flounce, and you will soon do it yourself if you try." " Very well '' rather sulkily. " I am sure I was intended to be a rich man's wife, I am so helpless." " And I am sure I was born under 'a three-half-penny constella- tion,' as L. E. L. said, for I rather like helping 1 myself," returned Katherine, laughing. " Only I should like to have a little ex- terior help besides." " Do you know, Katherine, I am afraid you are very proud. I believe you think yourself the cleverest girl in the world." " I should be much happier if I did," said Katherine, good-humor- edly. "Don't be a goose, Ada ; let my disposition alone. I am afraid it is too decidedly formed to be altered.' " Colonel Ormonde was asking for you," resumed Mrs. Frederic, fearing- she had allowed her temper too mucli play. "He is quite an admirer of yours." "lam much oblig-ed to him. "Would you like to como to the, theatre to-night ? Mr. and Mrs. Wray have a box at the Addphi, and have offered us two places. My mother thought vou might like to go." " With the Wrays? No, thank you. I never seem to get on with them ; and if Colonel Ormonde happens to be there (and he might, for he is in town to-day), I should not care to be seen with thorn ; they are not at all in society, you know." ""True," said Katherine, with perfect equanimity. "Then, dear mother, do come. Nothing takes you out of yourself so much as a good play. I shall enjoy it more if you are with us." After a little discussion Mrs. Liddell agreed to go, and Mrs. Fred- eric retired to unpack, and to see what repairs were necessary, in a somewhat sulky mood. The following morning Mrs. Liddell's head was aching so severely that her daughter would not allow her to get up. She therefore gave her sister-in-law an early luncheon, and saw her set forth on her visit to Mr. Newton. She was a little nervous about it ; she wished Kath- erine to go with her, and yet she did not wish it. Sh3 attired herself completely in black, and managed to g'ive a mournful "distressed widow" aspect to her toilette: thj lirtb woman was an artist in her way, so long as her subject was self and its advantages. Then Katherine devoted herself to her mother, v -ho had taken a chill. It grieved her to see how the slightest indisposi- tion preyed upon her strength. The period of waiting was terribly long and wearing. Had she, after all, committed herself to an ever-gnawing loss of self-resp.-ct to enrich another ? Katherine asked herself this question more than once. 92 A CROOKED PATH. She had refrained from troubling- Mr. Newton with fruitless ques- tions or impatient expressions, and her mother admired her forbear- ance. But in truth Catherine hated to approach the subject of her possible inheritance, though she never faltered in her purpose of keeping' the existence of her uncle's will a profound secret. Mrs. .Frederic Liddell returned from her visit to the friendly law- yer rather sooner than Ka'therine expected. The moment she entered the drawuig-roo^B, where the latter was dusting- the few china and other ornaments, ner countenance evinced unusual disturbance. "I am sure," she beg-an, in a very hig-h key, "if I had known what I was going* to encounter, I should have stayed at home. There's no justice in this world for the widow and the fatherless." " J cannot believe that Mr. Newton could be rude or unkind !" ex- claimed Katherine, much startled. " I do not say he was," returned Mrs. Fred, snappishly. "But either he is a stupid old idiot, or he has been telling- me abominable stories. I don't I can't believe them ! Do you know he says he, they, all the old rogues together, believe that wretched miser had destroyed his will and died intestate, and that every penny will be yours"; not a sou comes to the widow and children of the nephew. It is preposterous. It is the most monstrous injustice. If it is law, an act of Parliament ought to be passed to to do away with it. Fancy your having everything, ana me, my boys and myself, de- pendent on yon /" scornful emphasis on "you." " Is this possible ?" exclaimed Katherine, dropping her duster in dismay. " I thought that the property would be divided between the boys and myself." ' Whv, that 'is only common-sense! If you <7o get everything you will be well rewarded for your three months' penal servitude. You Knew what you were about, though you do despise rank and riches. " " But, Ada, I suppose my uncle would have destroyed his will whether I had been there or not." 41 No. Mr. Newton's idea is that he intended to make a new will, Sobably leaving you a large sum, and so destroyed the old one. r. Newton thinks he grew to like you. Oh ! you played your cards well ! But it is too hard to think you cut out my dar-arling boys," she ended, with a sob. Katherine grew very white ; this outburst of fury roused her con- science. She pulled herself together in an instant of quick thought, however. "This is folly. What I have done will beneh't the boys more than myself," she reflected. " I do not wonder at your being vexed, Ada," she said, gently. " But fortunately one is not compelled to act according to law. If the whole of the 'fortune, whatever it may be, becomes mine, do you think I would keep it all to mys.'l: ?" "I am sure I don't know " said Mrs. Frederic, who had now sub- sided into the sulks. " Whs:>rve. Do get me something to eat ; I am awfully hungry, and though I hate beer, I will take some ; it is better than nothing. How you go on on water I cannot imagine ; it will ruin your digestion." So they went amicably enough into the dining-room together, one to be ministered to, the other to minister. Here the boys joined them ; but for a wonder their mother was silent respecting her visit to the lawyer, and soon went awav to write to Colonel Ormonde, on whom she had conferred, unasked, the office of prime counsellor and referee. This opened up a splendid field for letters full of flattering appeals to his wisdom and judgment, and touching little confessions of her own weakness, folly, and need for guidance. "DEAR Miss LIDDELL, I should be glad if you could call on Tuesday next about one o'clock. I have various documents to show 94 A CROOKED PATU Eau, or I should not give you the trouble to come here. If Mrs. iddell is disengaged and could come also it would be well. I am yours faithfully, A. NEWTON." Such was the letter which the first post brought to Katherine about six weeks after the death of John Liddell. Katheriue, who always rose and dressed first, found it on the table wh.-n she went down to give the bovs their breakfast, to coax the lire to burn up brightly if it was inclined to be sulky, and to make the coffee for her mother and Mrs. Fred. As soon as she had seen the two little men at work on their bread and milk she flew back to her mother. "Do read this ! Do you think that Mr. Newton wants me because I am to have my uncle's money at last?" "Yes, I do. There can be no other reason for his wishing to see you, dearest child. What a wonderful change it will make if this is the case ! I can then cease to mourn the failure of mv poor powers, and let the publishers go free. My love, I did not think anything could affect you so much. You are white and trembling." "I have been more anxious than you knew," returned Katherine, who felt strangely overcome, curiously terrified, at the near ap- proach of success the success she had ventured on so daring an act to secure. " I greatly feared some other claimant some other will, I mean might be found." " Yes, I feared too. Yet there could be no claimant, apart from another will. Poor George, your uncle's only son, was killed, I remember. Take a little water, dear, and sit down. No, I did not fear another claimant when I thought, but I feared to hope too much." " I feel all right now, mother. Such a prospect does not kill. Suppose we say nothing to Ada she will worry our lives out not at least till we know our fate certainly?" "Perhaps it will be better not." "And whatever I get we will share with the dear children, and give Ada some too. Oh, darling mother, think of our being alone together again, and tolerably at ease !" It woul 1 be wearisome to the reader were the details of the inter- view with Mr. Newton minutely recorded. He was evidently relieved and delighted to announce that all attempts to find the' will had failed, and explained at some l.Migth to his very attentive listeners the steps to be taken and the particulars of the property bequeathed ; how it devolved on Katherine to take out letters of administration ; how at her age she had the power of choosing her own guardian for the two years which must elapse before sne was of age ; and finally that the large amount of which she had become mistress was so judiciously invested that he (Mr. Newton) could advise no change save the transference of stock to her name. As it dawned upon Katherine that the sum she inherited amounted to something over eighty thousand pounds, sh?. felt dizzy with sur- prise and fear. She had no idea she nad been playing for such stakes. The sense of sudden responsibility pressed upon her; her haads trembled and her cheek paled. A CROOKED PATH. 95 "My dear yonng lady, you look as if you had met a .-ass instead of gaining- a fortune," said Mr. Newton, looking- kindiy at her. "I have no doubt you will make a g-ood use of your money, and I trust will enjoy many happy days." " But my nephews, my sister-in-law, do they g-et nothing?'' " Not a penny. Of course you can, when of ag-e, settle some por- tion upon them." " I certainly will ; but in the mean time" "In the mean time I will take care that you have a proper allowance." "T'nnk you, dear Mr. Newton. Do get me something big enough to make us all comfortable, and I can share with Ada with Mrs. Frederic. I do so want to take my mother abroad, and I could not leave Ada and the boys unless they were well pro- vided for." "Make your mind easy ; the court will allow you a handsome in- come. So you must cheer up, in spite of the infliction of a large fortune," added Mr. Newton, with unwonted jocularity. 4 ' Both Katherine and myself are warmly grateful for your kind sympathy," said Mrs. Liddell, softly. Then, after a short pause, she a^ked, "Do you know what became of Mr. Liddell's unfortunate wife?" " She died eleven or twelve years ago. The family of of the man she lived with had the audacity to apply for money, on account of her funeral, I think, and so I came to know she was dead. It was a sad business. The poor woman had a wretched life, but I don't think she was in any want." "I only asked, because if she was in poverty " " Oh, "" interrupted the lawyer, " if she were alive, she would have her share of the estate, as her marriage was never dissolved." A short pause ensued, and then Newton asked if Miss Liddell would like some money, as he would be happ.y to draw a check for any sum she required." Then, indeed, Katherine felt that her days of difficulty were over. Mrs. Liddell and her daughter were in no hurry to leave their humble home. In truth Katharine was more frightened than elated at the amount of property she had inherited, and would have felt a little less guilty had she only succeeded in obtaining a moderate competence. A curious stumed feeling made her incapable of her usual activity for the first few days, and averse even to plan for the future. She kept her sister-in-law quiet by a handsome present of money wherewith to buy a fresh outfit for 'herself and her boys. Finally she roused up sufficiently to persuade Mrs. Liddell to see an eminent physician, for she did not seem to gather strength as rapidly as her daughter expected. The great man. after a careful examination, said there was noth- ing verv wrong ; the nervous system seemed to be a good deal ex- hausted", and the brom-hial attack of the previous year had left the lungs delicate, but that with care she might live to old age. 96 A CllOOKED PATH. He directed, however, that Mrs. Liddell should go as soon as pos- sible to a southern climate. He recommended Cannes or San Hemo indeed it would be advisable that several winters in future should be spent in a more genial atmosphere than that of England. This advice exactly suited the wishes both of Katherine and her mother. How easy it was to make arrangements in their altered circum- stances ! How magical are the effects of money ! How quickly Katharine grew accustomed to the unwonted ease of her present lot ! /yoli, if she were ever found out, how should she bear it ? How could she endure the pinch of poverty, added to the poison of shame? But til,.- idea that all this wealth was* really hers gained on her, while her fears were lulled to sleep by a pleasant sense of comfort and security. .Mrs. Frederic Liddell was a good deal disturbed on hearing that her mother-in-law was ordered abroad. " Pray what is to become of me?" was her first question when Katherine announced the doctor's verdict. They were sitting over the lire in the drawing-room, after the boys had said good -night. " Would you prefer staying in England ?" asked Mrs. Liddell. " For some reasons I should, but you know I must havesomething to live on." "I know that," returned Katherine. "As I cannot execute any any deed of gift for two years, I think J had better give you an allowance for yourself and the boys, and let you do as you like. I have talked with Mr. Newton about it." " Well, dear, I think it would be the best plan," said Mrs. Fred- eric, amiably. "I have not the least scruple in taking tlu money, because you know it ought really to be ours." "Exactly," returned Katherine, with a slight smile, and she named so liberal a sum that even Mrs. Fred was satisfied. " Well, I am sure that is very nice, dear," she said ; "and when you are of age will you settle it on my precious boys?" "I will," replied Katherine, deliberately ; "and I hope always to see a great deal .of them." " Of course you will ; but you will not long be Katherine Liddell. When Mr. Wright comes, my boys will get leave to stay with their mother as much as they like." "I do not think I shall easily forget them, even if Mr. Wright appears," said Katherine, good-numoredly. "'What a strange girl Katie is!" pursued her sister-in-law. "Was she never in love, Mrs. Liddell ? Had she never any admirers.' 1 ' " Not that I know of, Ada." "Oh ! I have baen in love many times! " cried Katherine, laugh- ing. " Don't you remember, mother, the Russian prince I used to dance with at Madame du Lac's juvenile parties? I made quite a romance about him ; and that young Austrian I forget his name whom we met at Stuttgart, Baron Holdenberg's nephew ; he was charming, to say nothing of Lohengrin and Tannhauser. I have quite a long list of loves, Ada. Oh, 1 should like to dance again i To float round to the music of a delightful Austrian band would be charming." A CROOKED PATH. 97 " My dear Katherine, that is all nonsansa, as you will find out one day." Then, after some moments of evidently severe reflection, her brows knit, and her soft baby -like lips pressed tog-ether she said: "I think I should like to move nearer town, and get a nice nursery governess for Cis and Charlie, and Don't you trunk it would be a good plan ?" " The governess, yes, as they will lose their present one when Catherine g-oes. But why not stay on here till next autumn, when the lease or agreement expires ? You will have it all to yoursalf in about ten days, and it will be quite large enough," said Mrs. Licldell. " Stay on here ! " began her daughter-in-law, in a high key, and with a look of great disgust. She stopped herself suddenly, however, smoothed her brow, and added, " Well, I will think about it," after which, wirh unusual self-control, she changed the subject, and talked gravely about governesses, their salaries and qualifications, till it was time to g-otq bed. A few days after this conversation the house was invaded by a host of applicants for the post of -instructress to the two little boys. Every shade of complexion, all possible accomplishments, tha most yaric I and splendid testimonials, were presente i to the bewildered little widow, in consequence of her application to a governesses' in- stitution. She was fain to ask Katherine to help her in choosing, much to the latter's satisfaction, as she did not like to offer assistance, though she wished to influence the choice of a preceptress. Together they fixed on a quiet, kindly looking- young woman, to whom both took rather a fancy, and Katherine felt very much relieved to know that this important point was settled. But Mrs. Frederic did not seem at ease ; there was a restlessness about her, a disinclination to leave the house, that attracted Kather- irie's notice, although she was much occupied with preparations for their departure. At last the mystery was solved. One afternoon Mrs. Liddell and Katherine had been a good deal later than usual in returning home, having determined to finish their shopping and take a few days' complete rest before starting on their travels. Mrs. Frederic met them with a heightened color and a curious embarrassed look. The drawing-room was lit by a splendid fire, and sweet with the perfume of abundant hot-house flowers ; there was something vaguely prophetic in the air. "Do come to the fire, dear Mrs. Liddell; you must be so cold! I have been quite uneasy about you," she exclaimed, effusively. "Have you had a visitor, Ada?" asked Katherine, whose sus- picions were aroused. "I have, and I want to tell you all about it. I am far too candid to keep anything from thosa I love. My visitor was Colonel Ormonde. He asked me to marry him, and and, dear Mrs. Liddell Kath 'rine I hope you will not be offended, but I I said I would," burst forth Mrs. Frederic ; and then she burst into tears. There was a minute's silence. Katherine flushed crimson, and did not speak, but Mrs. Liddell said, kindly : "My dear Ada, if you think Colonel Ormonde will make you happy and be kind to the 98 A CROOKED PATH. toys, you are quite right. I never expected a young creature like you to live alone for tne rest of your existence, and I believe Colonel Ormonde is a man of character and position." "He is indeed, "cried Ada, falling- on her mother-in-law's neck. "You are the wisest, kindest woman i i the world. And you, Katherine?" " I rfo hope you will be very, very happy," responded Katherine ; "but I must say I think he is rather too old for you. That, how- ev, r, is your affair." "Yes, of course it is" leaving Mrs. Liddell to hug Katherine. "I am quite fond of him ; that is, I esteem and like him. Of course I shall never love any one as I did my dear darling Fred ; but I do want some one to help me with the boys, and Marmaduke (that's his name) is quite fond of them. So now, dear Mrs. Liddell, I will stay on here till till I am married, if you don't mind." " It is the best thing you can do, Ada. I wish Ave could stay and be present at your marriage." "But that is impossible," cried Katherine. "And not at all necessary," added Mrs. Frederic, hastily. "My friend Mrs. Burnett will help me in every way, and I have been trouble enough already." " I do not think so," said Mrs. Liddell, quietly. " But I am very weary. I will go to my room. Katie dear, bring me some tea presently." And the widow escaped to rest, perhaps to weep over the bright boy so dear to her, so soon forgotten by the wife of his bosom. Not many days after, Katherine and her mother set forth upon their travels, leaving nothing they regretted save the two little bovs, respecting whose fate Katherine felt anything but satisfied. Of this she said nothing to her mother. And so, with temporary forgetful- ness of the deed which was destined to color her whole life, she saw the curtain fall on the first act of her story. CHAPTER XI. "A NEW PHASE." "AN interval of three weeks six months ten years," as the case may be "is supposed to have elapsed since the last act." This is .a very commonly used expression in play -bills, and there seems no just cause or impediment why a story-teller should not avail him- self of the same device to waft the patient reader over an unevent- ful period, during which the hero or heroine has been granted a " breathing space " between the ebb and flow of harrowing adven- tures and moving incidents. It was, then, more than two years since the last chapter, and a still cold day at the end of February still and somewhat damp in one of the midland shires say Clayshire. The clank hedges and sodden fields had a melancholy aspect, which seemed to affect a couple of horsemen who were walking their jaded, much-splashed A CROOKED PATH. 99 horses along a narrow road, or rather lane, which led between a stretch of pasture-land on one side and a ploughed field on the other. The red coats and top-boots of both were liberally besprinkled with mud even their hats had not quite escaped. Their steeds hung their heads and moved languidly : both horses and riders had evi- dently had a hard day's work. "Presently the road sloped somewhat steeply to a hollow sheltered at one side by a stoop bank overgrown with brushwood and large trees. The country behind the hunts- men was rather flat and very open, but from this point it became broken and wooded, sloping gradually up toward a distant ran"-e of low blue hills. "Ha, you blundering idiot !" exclaimed the elder of the two men pulling up his horse, a powerful roan, as he stumbled at the begin- ning of the descent. He was a big, heavy man with a red face, thick gray mustache, and small, angry -looking eyes. "He'll break my neck some day." "Don't take away his'character," returned his companion, laugh- ing. " Remember he has had a hard run, and you are not a feather- weight." The speaker was tall (judging from the length of the well-shaped leg which lay close against his horse's side), large- framed, and bony ; his plain strong face was tanned to swarthiness by exposure to wind and weather ; moreover, a pair of deep-set dark eyes and long, nearly black mustache showed that he had been no fair, ruddy youth to begin with. "No, by Jove !" exclaimed the first speaker. " I don't understand how it is that I grow so infernally stout. I am sure I take exercise enough, and live most temperately." " Exercise ! Yes, for five or six months ; the rest of the twelve vou do nothing. And as to living temperately, what with a solid breakfast, a heavy luncheon, and a serious dinner, you manage to consume a great deal in the twenty-four hours." "Come, De Burgh ! Hang it, X rarely eat lunch." " Only when you can get it. Say two hundred and ninety times out of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year." "I admit nothing of the sort. The fact is, what I eat goes into a food skin. Now you might cram the year round and be a bag of ones at the end of it." "Thank God for all his mercies," replied De Burgh. "The fact is, you are a spoiled favorite of fortune, and in addition to all the good things you have inherited you pick up a charming wife who spoils you and coddles you in a way to make the mouth of an un- fortunate devil like myself water with envy." "None of that nonsense, De Burgh," complacently. "The heart of a benedict knoweth its own bitterness, though I can't complain much. If you hadn't been the reckless roue you are, you mi-ht have been as well off as myself." De Burgh laughed. "You see, I never cared for domestic bliss. I hate fetters of every description, and I lay the ruin of my morals to the score of that immortal old relative of mine who persists in keeping me out of my heritage. The conviction that you arc' al- ways sure of an estate, and possibly thirty thousand a year, has a terrible effect on one's character." " 100 A CROOKED PATH. "If you had stuck to th > Service you'd have been high up by this time, with the reputation you made in tlu Mutiny time, for you were little more than a boy then." "Ay, or low down ! Not that I should have much to regret if I were. I have had a lot of enjoyment out of life, however, but at present I am coming to the end of my tether. I am afraid I'll have to sell the few acres that are left to me, and if that gets to the Baron's ears, good- by to my chance of his bequeathing- 1113 the for- tune he has managed to scrape together between windfalls and lucky investments. The late Baroness had a pot of money, yuu know." "I know there's not much property to go Avith the title." "A beggarly live th .. \ icl a year. I say, Ormonde, are you dis- posed for a good thing / Loud mo three thousand on good security '( Six per cent., old man :'' "I am not so disposed, my dear fellow ! I have a wife and my boy to think of now." 'Exactly," returned the other, with a sneer. "You have a now edition of Colonel Ormonde's precious self." "Oh, your sneers don't touch me! You always had your humors ; still lam willing to li,-lpa kinsman, and I will give you a chance if you like. What do you say to a rich young wife none of your crooked sticks ?" ' It's an awful remedy for one's financial disease, to mortgage one's s.'lr instead of one's property ; still I suppose I'll have to come to it. \Vho is the proposed mortgagee?" ' Mv wife's sister." "Oh !" Th:; tone of this " Oh !" was in some unaccountable way offensive to (,'olonel Ormonde. " 3.1iss Liddell comes of a very good eld county family I can tell you, ' he said, quickly ; "a branch of the Somerset Liddells; and when I saw her last she was the making of an un- common fine woman." "But your wife was a Mrs. Liddell, was she not?" "Yes. This girl is her sister-in-law, really, but Mrs. Ormonde looks on her as a sister." " Hum ! She inns the cash '/ I suppose you kno^v all about it ?" " Well, yes, you may be sure of sixty or seventy thousand, which would keep yoiii going till Lord de Burgh joins the majority." " Yes, that might do ; so 'trot her out.' " "She is coining to stay with us in a week or two, before the hunt- ing is quite over, so you will be down here still." " I suspect I shall. The lease of the lodge won't be out till next September, and I may as well stay there as anywhere." "Katherine Liddell is quite unencumbered ; she has neither father nor mother, nor near relation of any kind; in fact Mrs. Ormonde and myself are her next friends, and in , few weeks she will be of age." ' "All very favorable for her," snid De Burgh, in his careless, commanding way. His tones were deep and harsh, and though un- mistakably one o f the "upper ten," there was a degree of roughness in his style, which, however, did not prevent him from being A CROOKED PATH. 101 rather a favorite with women, who always seemed to find his atten- tions peculiarly flattering 1 . "Come," cried Ormonde, " let us push on. I am getting chilled to the bone, and wo are late enough already. " He touch -d his horse with the spur, and "both riders urged their steeds to a rr >r. Turning a bend of the road, they came suddenly upon a young lady accompanied by two little boys, in smart velvet suits. Tiu',v were walking in the direction of Castleford walking so smartly" that the smaller of the two boys went at a trot, "Hullo!"' cried Colonel Ormonde, pulling "up for an instant. " What are you doing here? I hope the baby lias not been out so late :"' " Baby has gone todrive with mother, "chorussed the boys eagerly, as if a little a\ved. "All right! Time you were home too," and he spurred a'ter De Burgh. " Mrs. Ormonde's boys?" asked the latter. " Yes ; have you never seen them?" " I knew they existed, but I cannot say I ever beheld them before." " Oh, Mrs. Ormonde never bores people with her brats." "After they are out of infancy," returned the other, dryly. A remark which helped to " rile " Colonel Ormonde, and he said little more till they reached their destination, and both retired to enjoy the luxury of a bath before dressing for dinner. Jolm de Burgh was a distant relation of Ormonde's, but having been thrown together a good deal, they seemed nearer of kin than they really were. De Burgh was somewhat overbearing, and domi- nated Colonel Ormonde considerably". He was also somewhat law- loss by nature, hating restraint ana intent upon his own pleasure. The discipline of military life, light as it is to an officer, became intolerable to him when the excitement and danger of real warfare were past, and he resigned his commission to follow his own sweet will. Ultimately he became renowned as a crack rider, and one of the best steeple-chase jockeys on the turf in all competitions between gentlemen. Mrs. Ormonde considered him quite an important personage, heir to an old title, and first or second cousin to a host of peers. It took many a day to accustom her to think of her husband's connections without a sense of pride and exultation, at which Ormonde laughed h -artily whenever he perceived it. On his side De Burgh thought her a very pretty little toy, quite amusing with her small airs and graces and assumption of fine-lady ism, and lie showed her a good deal of indolent attention, at which her husband was rather Mattered. The rector of the parish and oneor two officers of Colonel Ormonde's old regiment, which happened to be quartered at a manufacturing town a few miles distant, made up the party at dinner that evening, and afterward thev dropped off one by one to the billiard-room, till Mrs. Ormonde and De Burgh found themselves tete-a-tete. " Do you wear black every night because it suits you down to the ground?" he asked, after very deliberately examining her from 102 A CROOKED PATH. head to foot, when he had thrown down a newspaper he had been scanning. "No ; I am in mourning. Don't you see I have only black la and jet, and a little crape?" "Ah! and that constitutes mourning, eh ? Well, there is very little mourning in your laughing eyes. Who is dead?" "My mother-in-law." " Your mother-in-law ! I didn't know Ormonde " "I mean Mrs. Liddcll ; and I am quite sorry for her; she was wonderfully fond of me, and very kind." " Why, what an angel you must be to fascinate a Iwlle-mrre ! Then the dear departed" must be the mother of that Miss Liddell whom Ormonde was recommending to me this afternoon?" "Who my husband? How silly! She would not suit you a bit." " Well, Ormonde thought her fortune might." " Oh, her fortune ! that is another thing. But she will not be so very rich if she fulfils her promise to settle part of her fortune on my boys. You see, if their poor father had lived, he would have shared their uncle's money with his sister. Now it is too hideously unjust that my poor dear bovs should have nothing, and Katherine is very properly going to make it up to them." " A young woman with a very high sense of justice. A good deal under the influence of her charming sister-in-law, I presume." "Well, rather," returned Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of superior- ity. " Katherine is a mere enthusiastic school-girl, easily imposed upon. Both Colonel Ormonde and myself feel bound to look after her." "Will she let you ?" asked De Burgh, dryly. "Of course she will. She knows nothing of the world, or at least very little, for she did not go much into society while they were abroad." " Has she been abroad?" " Yes ; Mrs. Liddell was out of health when Katherine came into this money, and they have been away in Italy and Germany and Paris for quite two years. Thejr were on their way home when Mrs. Liddell was taken ill. She died in Paris, of typhoid fever, just be- fore Christmas." " Two years in Italy, Germany, and Paris," repeated De Burgh ; "she can't be quite a"novice, then." " Oh, she thinks she knows a great deal ; and she is a nice girl, though curious and fanciful. I like her very much indeed, but I do not fancy you would. She is certainly obstinate. Instead of coming direct to us, and making her home here, as we were quite willing she should, she has gone to Miss Payne, a woman who, I believe, exists by acting chaperon to rich girls with no relations. Fancy, she has absolutely agreed to live with this Miss Payne for a year before consulting us, or asking our consent or or anything!" "Is she not a minor?" "She will be of age in a week or two, and it makes me quite ner- vous to think that other influences may prevent her keeping her promise to my boys. It is a mercy she did not marry some greedy A CROOKED PATH. 103 foreigner while she was under age- Fortunately, men never seemed to take a fancy to Katherine." " They will be pretty sure to take a fancy to her money." " I think she lived s';> quietly people did not suspect her of having 1 any. She is awfully cut up about the death of her mother, and do:-s not go anywhere. I hope she will come down here next week. The only person I am afraid of is a horrid stiff old lawyer who seems to be her right hand man. He went over to Paris when Mrs. Liddell died, and did everything, instead of sending for Colonel Ormonde! I felt fjuite hurt about it." "Ha ! a shrewd old lawyer is bad to beat," said De Burgh, look- ing at his lively informant with half closed eyes and an amused ex- pression. ''I wouldn't be too sure of your sister if I were you. Under such guidance the young lady may alter her generous in- tentions." "Pray do not say such horrible things, Mr. De Burgh!" cried Mrs. Ormonde, growing very grave, even pathetic, and looking in- clined to cry. "What would become of me I mean us -if she changed her mind? 'Duke would be furious ; he would never for- give me." " Pooh ! nonsense ! a man would forgive a woman like you anything." "A woman, perhaps, but not his wife," she returned, shaking her head. " But 1 won't think of anything so dreadful. 1 am quite sure Katie will never break her word ; she is awfully true." " That is rather an alarming character. You make me quite curi- ous. What is she like anything like you?" " Not a bit. You know, she is only my sister-in-law. She is tall and large, and much more decided" looking up in his face wi f h a caressing smile. "I understand. Not a delicate little darling, made for laughter arid kisses, and sugar, and spice, and all that's nice, like I/OH.." This with an insolent, admiring look. "Not a woman to fall In love with, but useful as a wife to keep one's household up to the collar." " Really, Mr. De Burgh, you are very shocking ! You must not say such things to me." 9 'Mustn't I? How shall you prevent me ? I am a relative, you know. You can't treat me as a stranger." " You are quite too audacious" she was beginning, when a slim young cornet came back from the billiard-room. "The Colonel wants you, Mrs. Ormonde," he said ; "and you too, De Burgh. We are n )t enough for po^l, and you play a capital game. Mrs. Ormonde." " What are the stakes?" asked De Burgh, rising readily enough. "Oh, I can't play well at all," s.aid Mrs. Ormonde, following him with evident reluctance. " Certainly not when Colonel Ormonde 13 looking on." " Oh, never mind him. I'll screen you from his hypercritical eyes," returned De Burgh, as he held the door open for lier to pass out. 104 A CROOKED PATH. So it was, after a spell of heavenly tranquility, as Katherine and her mother were on their way to England, intending- to make a home in or iK-ar London, Mrs. Liddell had been struck down with fever, and Katherine was left unspeakably desolate. Then she turned to her old friend Mr. Newton, and found him of infinite use and com- fort. A short space of numb inaction followed, during which she fully realized the loneliness of her position, and from which she roused her.ss.-lf to plan her future. At the time Mrs. Liddell was first attacked with fever they had just renewed their acquaintance with a Miss Payne, whom they had met in Rome and at Berlin. She was not unknown in society, for she came of a good old county family, and was h ilf-sister of the Bertie whose name has already appeared in these pages. Their father, with an old man's pride in a handsome only son, had left the bulk of his fortune to Bertie, while Hannah, who had minis- tered to his comfort and borne his ill-humor, inherited only a paltry couple of hundred a year, with a fairly well furnished house in Wil- ton Street, Hyde Park. Her brother would have willingly added to this pittance, but she sternly refused to accept what did not of right belong to her. Bertie went with his regiment to India, whence he returned a wiser, a poorer, and a physically weaker man. His sister, whose business instincts were much too strong to per- mit her wrapping up such a " talent '' as a freehold house in the nap- kin of unfruitful occupation, looked round to see how she could best turn it to account. Accident threw in her way a girl of large for- tune with no relations, whose guardians, thankful to find a respect- able home for her. readily agreed to pay Miss Payne handsomely for taking charge of the orphan. Her first protegee married well, under her auspices, and from henceforth her house was rarely empty. Sometimes she accepted a roving commission and travelled with h -r charge, meanwhile letting her bouse in town, so making a double profit. It was on one of these expeditions that she was int reduced to Mrs. and Miss Liddell. There was an air of sincerity and com- mon-sense about the composed elderly gentlewoman which rather attracted the former, and, when they met ayain in Paris, Miss Payne came to Katie in her trouble and proved a brave and capable nurse ; nor was she unsympathetic, though far from effusive,. So, finding that Miss Payne's last young lady had left her, Katlierine, with the approval of Mr. Newton, proposed to become her inmate for a year an arrangement entirely in accordance with Miss Payne's wishes. " 1 did not know you were acquainted with Miss Liddell " she said one evening when she was sitting with her brother. Katherine having retired early, as she often did. "It is quite a surprise to me." " I can hardly say I am acquainted with her ; I happened to be of some slight use to her once, and I met her after by accident, when we spoke ; that is all." " I wonder she did not mention it to me." "I imagine she hardly knew my name." Miss Payne uttered an inarticulate sound between a h'm and a groan, by which she gen- erally expressed indefinite dissent and disapprobation. Then she rose A CROOKED PATH. 105 and walked to the dwarf bookcase at the end of the room to fetch her tatting-. She was tall and slight. Following- her, you might im- agine her young, for her figure was good and her step brisk. Meeting her face to face, her pale, slightly puckered cheeks, closely compressed lips, keen light eyes, and crisp pepper-and-salt hair- Cayenne pepper, for it had once been red suggested at least tweaty or twenty-five additional years as compared with the back view. Returning to her seat, she began to tat, slowing drawing each knot hoine with a reflective air. "That woman is hunting her up," she exclaimed suddenly, after a few minutes' silence, during which Bortie looked thoughtfully at the fire his quiet face, with its look of unutterable peace, the strong- est possible contrast to his sister's hard, shrewd aspect. "What woman i"' asked, as if recalled from a dream. "Mrs. Ormonde. There was a telegram from her this after- noon. She has been worrying Miss Liddell to go to them ever since she set foot in England ; and as that won't do, she is coming up to-morrow to see what personal persuasion will do." " 1 dare say Mrs. Ormonde is fond of her sister-in-law. She is too well off to have any mercenary designs." "Is that all your experience has taught you?" (contemptuously). " If there is any truth in handwriting, that Mrs. Ormonde is a fool. Her letter after Mrs. Liddell's death, which Katherine showed me because it touched her, was the production of an effusive idiot. I don't trust sentimentalists ; they seldom have much honesty or justice. Katherine Liddell is a little soft too, but she is by no means so asinine as the others I have had. Wait, however wait till some man takes her fancy ; that is the divining-rod to show where the springs of folly lie." " Miss Liddell is a goo 1 deal changed," returned Bertie, slowly. " She looks considerably older. No, that is not the right expression; I mean she seems more mature than when 1 saw her before. What she says is said deliberately ; what she does is with the full con- sciousness of what she is doing ; but she looks as if she had Buffered." " She has," said Miss Payne, with an air of conviction, grief for her mother was, is, deep and real. I don't believe in floods of tears they are a relief." " Yes ; and though she looks so pale and sad, she is not a whit less beautiful than she was." "Beautiful!" repeated Miss Payne. "I rather admire her my- self, but I don't think any one could call her beautiful." "Perhaps not. There"is so much expression in her face, such feeling in her eyes, that not many really beautiful women would stand comparison with her." Miss Pavne sniffed, and then she smiled. " She is not a common- place voung woman, though I fear she is easily imposed upon, am afraid she may be snapped up by some plausible fortune- hunter." Bertie frowned slightly "I trust she may be guided to happi- ness with some good, God-fearing man," he said, and then he bid his sister good-night somewhat abruptly. 106 A CROOKED PATH. Meantime, Katherine sat plunged in thought beside the fire in her bedroom. She was not given to weeping, but she was profoundly sad. To find herself again in London without her mother seemed to renew the intense grief which had indeed lost but little of its keen- ness. Never had a mother been more terribly missed. They had lu- 'si such sympathetic friends, such close companions ; they had ha I such a hearty respect for and appreciation of each other's quali- ties, such a pleasant comprehension of each other's different tastes, that it would be hard to fill the place of the dear, lost comrade with whom she had hitherto walked hand in hand. It soothed her to think of the delightful tranquility Mrs. Liddell had enjoyed for the last two years, of the untroubled sweetness of their intercourse, of her mother's last contented words : "I am quite happy, dear. Your future is secure, and you have never given me a moment's pain. We have had such delightful days together !" How could she have borne to have seen a pained, anxious look such a look as was once familiar to them in those dear eyes, as they closed forever on this mortal scene! Oh, thank God for the heavenly security of those last ^ay whatever the price she had paid for them ! Motherless, she was utterly desolate. It would be long, long be- fore she could find any one to fill her mother's place, if she ever did. For the present she was satisfied to stay with Miss Payne, but she did not think she could ever love her. The idea of residing with Colonel Ormonde and his wife was distasteful. The most attractive scheme was to beg her little nephews from their mother, and take them to live with ner. She was almost of age, and felt old enough to set up for herself. As she pondered on these thing's she felt bitterly that, rich or poor, a homeless woman is a wretched creature. At last she went to bed, and lay for a while watching the fire-light as it cast flickering shadows, thinking of the tender, watchful love which had dropped away out of her life ; and with the murmured words, "Dear, dear mother !" on her lips she fell asleep. The next day broke bright and clear, though cold, and having kept Katherine at home all day, Mrs. Ormonde made her appearance in time for afternoon tea. " My dear, dearest Katherine !" cried the little woman, fluttering in, all fur and feathers, in the richest and most becoming morning toilette, looking prettier and younger than ever, "I am so delighted to see you once more ! Why have you staid in town, instead of coming straight to us?" and she embraced her tall sister-in-law effusively. Katherine returned her embrace. For a moment or two she could not command her voice ; the sight of the known childish face, the sound of the shrill familiar voice,, brought a flood of sudden sorrow over her heart ; but Mrs. Ormonde was not the sort of woman to whom she could express it. " And / am very glad to see you, Ada ! How well you are looking even younger and fairer than you used !" " Yes, I am uncommonly well ; and you, dear, you are looking pale and ill and older ! You will forgive me, but I am quite dis- tressed. You must come down to Castleford at A CROOKED PATH. 107 "Thank you. Where are the boys? I hoped you would bring 1 them." " Oh, Colonel Ormonde thought they would be too troublesome for me in a hotel, so I left them behind. They were awfully disap- pointed, poor dears ; but it is better yon should come down and see them. Cecil is going to school after Easter, and I believe Charlie must go soon." "I long to see them," said Katherine, assisting her visitor to take off her cloak. "And I long to showyoumy new little boy," cried Mrs. Ormonde, drawing a chair to the fire, and putting her small, daintly shod feet on the fender. "He is a splendid child, amazingly forward for six months." "I am glad you are so happy, Ada ; I shall be pleased to make the acquaintance of my new nephew. I suppose I may consider him a sort of nephew?" " My dear, of course ! Colonel Ormonde, as well as myself, is proud 'to consider you his aunt. Yes, I am very happy though Ormonde is rather provoking sometimes; still, he is not' half bad, and I know how to manage mm. You are such a favorite with mv husband, Katie. He admires you so much, I sometimes threaten to be jealous why, what is the matter, dear ?" Katherine had suddenly covered her face with her handkerchief and burst into tears. "Do not mind me, Ada !" she said, when she could speak. "It was just that name ; no one has called me Kat:ie except my mother and you, and the idea that I should never hear her speak again over- powered me fora moment." Mrs. Ormonde was puzzled. Not knowing Avhat to do in face of a great grief, she took out her own pocket-handerchief politely. "Of course, dear," she said ; " it is quite natural. I was" awfully cut up when I heard of your sad loss and mine too, for I am sure Mrs. Lidclell loved me like her own child ; it was quite wonderful for a mother-in-law.. I was afraid to speak to you about her, but I am sure she would like you to live with us ; it is your natural home. And and she would, I am sure, pleased if she can know what is going on here below, to see that \ ou fulfilled your kind intentions to her poor little grandsons." These last words with some hesi- tation, Katherine kept silence, and still held her handkerchief to her eyes. So Mrs. Ormonde resumed : "A good, religious girl girl like you, Katherine, must feel that it is right to submit to the will of " "Yes, yes ; I know all about that," interrupted Katherine, who was rather irritated than soothed by her sister-in-law's attempt at preaching; and recovering herself , she added : "I will not worry you with my tears. Tell me how the boys get on with Colonel Ormonde." " Very well indeed, especially Cecil. 'Duke is very kind. They have a pony, and quite enjoy the country ; but now that we have a boy of our own, we feel doubly anxious that Cis and Charlie should be permanently provided for ; so do, dear, come back with me, and talk it all over with my husband. He is such a good man of business." 108 A CROOKED PATH. Katherine smiled faintly ; she had not seen the drift of Mrs. Ormonde's remarks at first"; there was no iuis:aking them now. A slightly mischievous sense of power kept her from setting- her sister- in-law's mind at rest immediately. "J do not think it necessary to consult with Colonel Ormonde, Ada, for I have quite made up my mind what to d:j. I think you may trust your boys to me. I must see Mr. Newton and arrange many matters, so 1 do not think I can go to you just yet. Then, I do not like to be in the way, and I could nut mix in society just yet. Oh, I am not morbid : ih.3 sense of what they were saying. Her heart was throb- bing as if a sudden stunning blow had been dealt her, and the words, " Theft is theft, whatever the circumstances that seem to extenuate it," beat as if with a sledge-hammer on her brain. If for a theft, value perhaps sixpence, this poor woman, who had been driven to it by the direst necessity, was exposed to trial, to the ga^e of careless lookers-on, to loss of character, to the exposure of hi-r sore want, to the degradation of imprisonment, what should be awarded to her, Katherine Lidddl. ;in educated gentlewoman, for stealing a large fortune from its rightful owner, nndHint, too, under no pressure 01 immediate distress H True she firmly believed thai had her uncle not been struck down by death he would have left hejr a large portion of it ; that she had a better right to it than a stranger. A CROOKED PATH. 113 Still that did not alter the fact that she was a thief. If every one thus dared to infringe the rig-hts of others, what law, wbat security would remain? These ideas had never qiiite left her since the day she had written "Manuscript to be destroyed" on the fatal little parcel, which had been ever with her during- her various journey ings since. More than once she had made up her mind to destroy it, but some in fluence some terror of destroying 1 this expression of what her unclf* once wished had stayed her hand ; her courage stopped there. Per- haps a faint foreshadowing of some future act of restitution caused this reluctance, unknown to herself, but certainly at present nu such possibility dawned upon her. She felt that she held her projxjrty chiefly in trust for others, especially her nephews. Often she had forg-otten her secret during- her mother's lifetime, but tho consciousness of it always returned with a sense of being- out of moral harmony, which made her somewhat fitful in her conduct, particularly as reg-arded her expenditure, being 1 sometimes tempted to costly purchases, and anon shrinking- from outlay as thoug-h not entitled to spend the money Avhich was nominally hers. Nathan's parable did not strike more humiliating 1 conviction to Israel's erring king than Bertie Payne's " ower true tale." At length she mastered i.h se painful thoughts, and soug-ht relief from them in speech." ' What do you think of doing for this poor woman?" she asked, talcing 1 a screen to shelter her face from the fire and obssrvation. " I have not settled details in my own mind yet, I; he said; "but as soon as she is released I must g-et her into a new neighborhood and redeem her sewing-machine. Then, if we can get her work and help her till she begins to earn a little, she may get on." "Pray bt nn help in this," said Katherine. earnestly. "I live quite has. I expect she has been just living on her clothes I'll go and tell lu-r. Maybe miss will come after me, so as not to give her time to say no r" Katherine cast a troubled look at Bertie. " Don't wait for me," she said ; " your time is always so precious. I dare say I can get a cab for myself." And she followed Mrs. Dodd up a steep narrow dark stair. "Here is a nice lady come to see you," said Mrs. Dodd, in a sooth- ing tone suited to an infant or a lunatic. " No, no ; Idon't want any lady ; Iwould rathernotsee any lady," cried a voice naturally sweet-toned, but now touched with shrill terror. Curiously enough, this token of fear gave Katherine courage. Here was some poor soul wanting comfort sorely. " Do not forbid me to come in," she said, walking boldly into the room, and addressing the inmate with a kind bright smile. "I very much want some needle-work done, and 1 shall be glad if you wilf undertake it." While she spoke, Mrs. Dodd retired and softly closed the door. Katherine found herself face to face with a lady- like-looking young woman, small and slight slight even to extreme thinness fair-skinned, with large blue eyes, delicate features, a quantity of fair hair carelessly coiled up, and with white cheeks. The strange pallor of her trembling lips, the despair in her ey<-s, the shrinking, hunted look of face and figure, almost frightened her visitor. " 1 hope you are not vexed with me for coming in," faltered Katherine, deferentially ; " but they said you wanted emj>l >vment, and 1 shoul I like to give you some You must be ill you look so pah. Can I not be of some use to you?" 'I h .-. girl's pale cheek flushed as, partially recovering herself, she d up holding the back of her chair, her eyes fixed on the floor ,- i 'd endeavoring to speak, but the words did not come At last, in a low. hesitating voice : " You are toi good. I have tried to find work vainly ; now I do not think I have the force to do any." The color faded away from the poor sunken cheeks, and the eyes hid themselves persistently under the downcast lids. "I ?*m sure you are very weak," returned Katherine, tenderly, for there was something inexpressibly touching in the hopelessness of the stranger's aspect. " But some good food and the prospect of employment will set you up. When you are a little stronger and A CROOKED PATH. 117 know me better you will perhaps tell me how Mr. Payne and I can best help you. We all want each other's help at times ; and life must not be thrown away, you know. I do not wish to intrude upon you, but you see we are nearly of an age, and we ought to under- stand and help each other. It is my turn now ; it may be yours by- ami -by." " Mine !" with unspeakable bitterness. "Do sit down," said Katherine, who felt her tears very near her eyes, " and I will sit by you for a little while. Why, you are unfit to stand, and you are so cold !" She pulled off her gloves, and tak- ing one of the poor girl's hands in both her own soft warm ones, chafed it g-entlv. No doubt practically charitable people would smile indulgently at Katherine's enthusiastic sympathy ; but she was new to such work, and felt that she had to deal with no common subject. Whether it was the tender tone or the kindly touch, but the hai'd desperate look softened, and big tears began to roll down, and soon she was weeping freely, quietly, while she left her hand in Katherine's, who held it in silence, feeling how the whole slight frame shook with the effort to control herself. At length Katherine rose and went downstairs to take counsel with Mrs. Dodd. " She seems quite unable to T'ecover herself. Ought she not to have a little wine or something?" " Yes, miss : it's just that she wants. She is nigh starved to death." " Have you any wine?" " AVell, no, miss ; but there's a tavern round the corner where you can get very good port from the wood. I'll send the girl for a pint." " Pray do, and quickly, and some biscuits or something ; here is some money. What is her name ?" " Trant Miss Trant," returned Mrs. Dodd, knowing who her in- terrogator meant. " Leastways we always called her miss, for she is quite the lady." Katherine hurried back, and found Miss Trant lying back in her chair greatly exhausted. With instinctive tact Katherine assumed an air of authority, and insisted on her patient eating some biscuits soaked in wine. Presently Miss Trant sat up, and, as if with an effort raised her eyes to Katherine's. " I am not worth so much trouble," she said. "'You deserve that I should obey you. It is all I can do to show gratitude. If, then, you will be content with very slow work, I will thankfully do what you wish ; but I must have time." "So you shall," cried Katherine, delightedly. "You shall have plenty of time to make me a dress ; that will be more amusing than plain work. I will bring you the material to-morrow, and if you lit me well, you know, it may lead to a great business ;" and she smiled pleasantly. " What is your name ?" asked the patient, feebly. Katherine told her. " You are so good, you make me resigned to live." " Do you care to read?" " I used to love it ; but I have no books, nor could I attend to the sense of a page if I had." 118 A CROOKED PATH. "If you sit hero without book or work, I do not wonder at your being half dead." " Not nearly half dead yet ; dying by inches is a terribly long process. I am dreadfully strong 1 . " " I will not listen to you if you talk like that. Well, I will bring you some books indeed, I will send you some at once if you will promise to read and divert your thoughts. To-morrow afternoon I will come, you shall take my measure (1 like to be made to look nice), and you shall beg 1 in again." " IV^in again ! Me ! That would be a miracle." " Now try and get a little sleep," said Katherine, "your eyes look so weary. You want to stop thinking, and only sleep can still thought. When you wake you shall find some of the new magazines, and you must try and attend to them." " I will, for your sake." " Good-by, then, till to-morrow ;" and having pressed her hand kindly, Katherine departed. It was q'lito a triumph for Katherine to report her success to Bertie that v. veiling. Kiss Payne rather shook her head over the whole affair. " I must say it puts me on edge altogether to hear you two rejoic- ing over this young woman's condescension in accepting the work YOU lay at her feet, while such crowds of starving wretches are begging and praying for something to do ; and here is a mysterious young woman with lady-like manners and remarkable eyes, taken up all at once because she won't eat and refuses to speak. It isn't just. I suspect there is something in her past she does not like to tell." "Your resume of the facts makes Mr. Payne and me seem rather foolish," said Katherine. "Yet I am convinced she is worth helping, and that no common methods will do to restore to her any relish for life. She interests me. I may be throwing away my time and money, but I will risk it." "It is hard to say, of course, whether she is a deserving object or not," added Bertie," thoughtfully ; " and I have been taken in more than once." " More than once ?" echoed his sister in a peculiar tone. " Still, I feel with Miss Liddell that this girl's, Rachel Trant's, isnot a common case," continued Bertie. " Her very name is suggestive of grief," said Katherine, "and she, too, refuses to be comforted. I am sure she Avill tell me her stoiy later. Her landlady says she never receives or semis a ictiiu-, and does not seem to have a creature belonging to her. Such deso- lation is appalling." "And shows there is something radically wrong," added Miss Payne. " I acknowledge that it has a dubious appearance," said Bertie, and turned the conversation. Katherine was completely taken out of herself bv the interest and curiosity excited by her meeting with Rachel Trant. She visited her daily, and saw that she was slowly reviving. She took a wonderful interest in the dress which Katherine had given her A CKOOKED PATH. to make, and, moreover, succeeded in fitting her admirably. She was evidently weak and unequal to exertion, yet she worked with surprising diligence. Her manner was very grave and collected respectful, yet always ready to respond to Katherine's effort to draw her out. The subject on which she spoke most readily was the books Kath- erine lent her. Her taste was decidedly intelligent and rather solid., To the surprise of her young benefactress, she expressed a distaste for novels stories, as she called them. " I used to care for nothing else," she said ; "but they pain me now." She expressed herself like an educated, even refined, woman ; and though she said very about gratitude, it showed in every glance, in the very tone of her voice, and in her ready obedience to whatever wish Katherine expressed. The greatest sacrifice was evidently compliance with her new friend's suggestion that she should take exercise and breathe fresh air. Mis. c Payne, after critically examining Katherine's new garment, declared it really well made, inquired the cost, and finally decided that she would have an every -day dress for herself, and that "Miss Trant" should make it up. Then Katherine presented the elegant young woman who waited on her with a gown, promising to pay for the making if she employed her protegee. " Miss Trant " could not conceal her reluctance to come so far from the wilds of Camden Town ; but she came, closely muffled in a thick g-auze veil, doubtless to guard against cold in the chill March evening. Katherine was immensely pleased to find that both gowns gave satisfaction, though the " elegant young woman's " praise was cautious and oualified. CHAPTER XIII. RECOGNITION. "AFTER all, life is inexhaustible," said Katherine. She was speaking- to Rachel Trant, who had laid aside her work to sr"'ik with the good friend who had come, as she often did, to see lif>\v she was going on and to cheer her. " Life is very cruel," ske returned. " Neither sorrow nor repent- ance can alter its pitiless law. " Still, there are compensations." Katherine did not exactly- think what she was saying ; ner mind was filled with the desire of know- ing her interlocutor's story. "Compensations!" echoed Rachel. "Not for those who deserve to suiTe^nor, indeed, often for the innocent. I don't think we often find vi^/unished and virtue rewarded in history and lives truo stories, I mean as we do in novels." Katherine did not reply at once ; sh3 thought for a moment, and then, looking full into Rachel's eyes, said : "I wonder how you came to be a dressmaker ? You have read a great deal for a girl who must have had her hands full all day. I am not asking- this from idle curiosity, but from real interest. 120 A CROOKED ' ' I mav well believe you. I should like to tell you much ; but" She paused and grew very white for a second, her lips trembling, and a troubled look coming into her eyes. " I always loved reading," she resumed ; " it has been almost my only pleasure, though 1 was ap- prenticed to a milliner and dressmaker when little more than six- teen Then I went to work with another, a very great person in her way, and I like the work. Still I used to think I was a sort of lady ; aay poor mother certainly was." " I am sure of it," cried Katherine, impulsively. "I quite 1 that you are." " Thank you," said Rachel, in a very low voice, the color rising to her pale cheek. " My mother was so sweet and pretty," she con- tinued, "but so sad ! I was an orphan at ten years old, and then a very stiff, severe-looking woman, the sister of my father, had charge of me. I was sent to a school, a kind of institution, not exactly a charity school, for 1 know something was paid for me It was a very cold sort of place, but I was not unhappy there. I had playfellows some kind, some spiteful. One of the governesses was very good to me, and used to give me books to read. Had she remained, things might have been very different ; but she left long before I did. The rare holidays Avhen I was permitted to visit my father's sister were terrible days to me. She could not bear to see me I felt it. She seemed to think my very existence was an offence. I was ashamed of living in her presence. Of my father I have a very faint recollection. He died abroad, and I remember being on board ship for a long time with my mother. When I was sixteen my father's sister sent for me, and told me that the money mv mother left was nearly exhausted, and what remained ought to provide me with some trade or calling by which I could earn my own bread ; that she did not think I was clever enough to be a gover- ness so she advised my to apprentice myself to a dressmaker, had seen enough of teaching in school, so I took her advice. At the same time she gave me some papers my mother had left for me. Then fully explained why my existence was an offence why I be- lon<4d to nobody. It was a bitter hour when I read my dear mother's miserable story. I felt old from that day. Well, I thanked mv father's sister mind you, she was not my aunt for what she had done, and promised she should never more be troubled with me. I have kept my word." Katherine, infinitely touched by the picture of sorrow and lonali ness this brief story conjured up, took and pressed the thin quivering hand that played nervously with a thimble. Rachel glanced at her Quickly, compressed her lips for an instant, and went on : "I will try and tell vou all. You ought to know. As far as work went I did very well. " I loved to handle and drape beautiful stuffs I eriioy color and it pleased me to fit the pretty girls and tine ladies who came to our show-rooms. It was even a satisfaction to make the plain ones look better. I should have made friends more easilv with my companions but for the knowledge of what I was. Even this I might have got over-I am not naturally morbid-but I could not share their chatter and jests, or care for their love affairs. They were not bad, poor things ! but simply ordinary girls of a class A CROOKED PATH. 121 to which it would have been, perhaps, better for me to belong 1 . With my employers I did fairly well. They were sometimes just, some- times very uniust ; but when I was out of my time, and receiving- a salary, I founa I was a valued employee. Then it came into my mind that I should like to found a business a great business. It seemed rather a ' vaulting- ambition ' for so humble a waif as myself. But I beg-an to save even shillings and sixpences. I tried to kill my heart with these duller, lower aims, it ached so always for what it could not find. I began to think I was growing- so useful to madamo that she might make me a partner ; for even in millinery mental training is of use." She stopped, and clasping her hands, she rested them on her knee for a few moments of silence, while her brow con- tracted as if with pain. "It is dreadfully hard to go on !" she exclaimed at length, and her voice sounded as if her mouth were parched. "Then do not mind now; some other time," said Katherine, softly. " No," cried Rachel, with almost fierce energy ; "I must finish. I cannot leave you ignorant of my true story."" She paused again, and then went on quickly, in a low tone : " I don't think I was ex- actly popular certainly not with the men employed in the same house. I was thought cold and hard, and to mo they were all utterly uninteresting. One or two of the girls I liked, and" they were fond of me." Another pause. Then she pushed on again : " One evening I went out with another girl and her brother at least she said he was her brother to see the illuminations for the Queen's birthday. In Pall Mall we got into a crowd caused by a quarrel between two drunken men. I was separated from my companions, and one of the crowd, also tipsy, reeled against me. I should have been knocked down but for a gentleman who caught me ; he had just come down the steps from one of the clubs. I thanked him. Ho kindly helped me to find my companions. He came on with us almost to the door of Madame Celine's house. He talked frankly and pleasantly. Two days after I was going to the City on madame's business. He met me. He said he had watched for mo. There! I cannot go into details. We met repeatedly. For the first time in my life I was sought, and, as I believed, warmly loved. I knew the unspeakable gulf that opened for me, but I loved him. At last there was* light and color in my poverty-stricken existence." She stopped, and a glow came into her sad eyes. " I was bewildered, distracted. he!: ween the passion of my heart and the resistance of my reason. I ceased to be the efficient assistant I had been. I was rebuked, and looked upon coldly. Six months after I had met hi.-n first, I gave madamo warning'. I said I was going- into the country. So I was, but. not alone. No one asked me any questions ; no one had a right. I belonged to no one, was responsible to no one, could wound no one. I was quite alone, and, oh, so hunp;ry for a little love and joy !" Sin; paused, and then resumed rapidly, "I was that man's un wedded wife for nearly two years." She rested her arm on the table, and hid her face with her hand Katherine listened with unspeakable emotion. The eloquent blood flushed cheek and throat with a keen sense of shame. She had read 122 A CROOKED PATS and heard of such painful stories, but to be face to face with & creature who had crossed the Rubicon, overpassed the great gulf which separates the sheep from the goats was something so unexpected, so terrible, that she could not restrain a passionate burst of tears. "Ah," she murmured at last, "you were cruelly deceived, no doubt. You are too hard upon yourself. You -" "No, Miss Liddell ; I am trying to tell you the whole truth. The man I loved never deceived me never held out any hope that we could marry. He was not rich ; there were impedi- mentswhat, I never knew. But I thought such love as he professed, and at the time felt for me, would last ; and so long as he was mine, I wanted nothing more. Have you patience to hear more, or have I fallen too low to retain your interest?" "Ah, no ! tell me everything." "I was very happy oh, intensely happy for a while. Then a tiny cloud of indifference, thin and shifting" like morning mist, rose between us. It darkened and lowered. He was a hasty, masterful man, but he was never rough to me. Gradually I came to see that time had changed me from a joy to a burden. How was it I lived ? How was it I shut my eyes and hoped ? At last he told me he was obliged to go abroad, but that he could not take me with him : and then proposed to establish me in some such undertaking as my late employer's. When he said that, I knew all was over ; that nothing I could do or say would avail ; that I had been but a toy : that he could not conceive what my nature was, nor the agony of shame, the torture of rejected love, he was inflicting. I contrived to keep silent and composed. I knew I had no right to complain : I had risked all and lost. I managed to say we might arrange things later, and he praised me for being a sensible, capital girl. I had seen this coming, or I don't suppose I could have so controlled myself. But I could not accept his terms. I had a little money and some jewels ; I thought I might take these. So I wrote a few lines, saying that I needed nothing, that he should hear of me no more, and I went away out into the dark. If I could only have died th-.'n ! I was too great a coward to put an end to my life. Why do I trv to speak of what cannot beput into words? Despair isagrinithing, nikl all lite had turned to dust and ashes for me. I could not even lovo him, though I pined for the creature I had loved, who once understood me, but from whose heart and mind I had vanished when time dulled his first impression, and to whom I became even as other women were. But as I could not die, I was obliged to work, and there was but one way. I dreaded to be found starving and unable to give an account of myself, so I applied to one of those large general shops where they neither give nor expect references. There I staid for some months, so silent, so steeled against every- thing, that no one cared to speak to me. I dare not even think of that time. I do not understand how I managed to do anvthing. At last I grew dazed, made blunders, and was dismissed. 1 wandered here. I failed to find employment, and felt I could do no more. Still death would not come. I think my mind was giving- A CROOKED PATH. 123 way when you came. Now am I worth helping, now that you know all ?" " Yes. I will do my best for you. Suffering 1 such as yours must be expiation enough," cried Katherine, her eyes still wet. ''Put the past behind you, and hope for the better days which trill come if you strive for them. But, oh ! tell me, did he never try to find you?" "Yes. I saw advertisements in the paper which were meant for me ; but after a while they ceased, and no doubt I was forgotten. I reaped what I had sown. " Few men, I imagine, can understand that there are hearts as true, as strong*, as tenacious, among women such as I am as among the irreproachable, the really good. I have no real right to complain ; " only it is so hard to live on without hope or'' She stopped abruptly. " Hope will come, said Katherine, gently; "and time will re- store your self-respect. I should be so glad to see you build up a neAv and better life on the ruins of the past ! I am sure there is in- dependence and repose before you, if you will but fold down this terrible page of your life and never open it again." " And can you endure to touch me to be to me as you have been ?" asked Rachel, her voice broken and trembling. Katherine's answer was to stretch out her hand and take that of her fjrotfitff, which she held tenderly. " Let us never speak of this again," she said. " Bury your dead out of sight. All you have told me is sacred ; none shall ever know anything from me. Let us begin anew. I am certain you are good and true ; and how can one who has never known temptation judge you?" Rachel bent Irjr head to kiss the fair firm hand which held hers ; then she wept silently, quietly, and said, softly, in an altered voice, " I will do whatever you bid me ; and while you are so wonderfully good to me I will not despair." There was an expressive silence of a few moments. Then Kather- ine began t:> draw on her g'loves, and trying to steady her voice and speak in her ordinary tone, said : "Mr. Payne is going to make you known to a lady who may be of great use to you in obtaining customers. I have not met her myself, but should you receive a note from Mrs. Needham, pray go to"hcr at once. There is no reason why you should not make a great business yet. I should be quite proud' of it. Now I must leave you. Promise me to resist unhappy thoughts. Try to regain strength, both mental and physical. Should you see Mrs. Needham before f com.; ;i-;ain, pray ask quite two-thirds more for making a dress than I paid, for both your work and your lit are excellent." With these practical words Katherine rose to depart. Rachel fol- lowed her to the door, and timidly took her hand. " Do you under- stand," she said, " all you have done for me? You have given me back my human heart" instead of the iron vise that was pressing my soul to 'death. I will live to be worthy of you, of your infinite pity." Katherine had hardly recovered composure when she reached home. The sad and shameful story to which she had listened had not arrested the flow of her sympathy to Rachel. There was some- thing striking in the strength that enabled her to tell such a talfl 124 A CROOKED PATH. with stern justice toward herself, without any whining self-exculpa- tion. What a long- agony she must have endured ! Katherine's tears were ready to flow afresh at the picture her warm imagination conjured up. Weak and guilty as Kachel was to yield to such a temptation, what was her wrong-doing to that of the man who, knowing what would be the end thereof, tempted her? Castleford was an ordinary comfortable country house, standing in not very extensive grounds. The scenery immediately around it was fiat and uninteresting, but a few miles to the south it became undulating, and broken with pretty wooded hollows, but north of it was a rich level district, and as a hunting country second only to Leicestershire. Colonel Ormonde was a keen sportsman, and when he had reached his present grade had gladly taken up his abode in the old place, which had been let at a high rent during his term of military service. Castleford was an old place, though the house was com- paratively new. It had been bought by Ormonde's gran Sfather, a rich manufacturer, who had built the house and made many im- provements, and his representative of the third generation was con- sidered quite one of the country gentry. Colonel Ormonde was fairly "popular. He wasnot obtrusively hard about money matters, but he never neglected his own interests. Then he appreciated a good glass of wine, and above all he rode straight. Mrs. Ormonde was adored by the men and liked by the women of Clayshire society, Colonel Ormonde being considered a lucky man to have picked up a charming woman whose children were provided for. That fortunate individual was sitting at breakfast trte-a-fpfe with his wife one dull foggy morning about a month after Katherine Lid- dell had returned to England. "Another cup, please," he said, handing his in. Mrs. Ormonde was deep in her letters. "What an infernal nuisance it is !" he continued, looking out of the window nearest him. "The off days are always soft and the 'meet 'days hard and frosty. The scent would be "breast-high to-day." Mrs. Ormonde made no reply. " Your correspondence seems uncommon- ly interesting !" he exclaimed, surprised at her silence. "It is indeed," she cried, looking up with a joyful and exiiltant expression of countenance. "Katherine writes that she has signed a deed settling twenty thousand on Cis and Charlie, the income of which is to be paid to me until they attain the age of twenty-one, for their maintenance, education, and so forth : after which any sum necessary for thoir establishment in life can be raised or taken from their capital, the whole coming into their own hands at the age of twenty-live. Dear me ! I hope they will make me a handsome allowance when they are twenty-five. I really think Katherine might have remembered me." She handed "the letter to her husband. "Well, little woman, you have your innings now, and you must save a pot of money," he returned, in high glee. "What a trump that girl is ! and, by Jove ! what lucky little beggars your boys are ! I can tell you I was desperately uneasy for fear she might marry A CROOKED PATa 125 some fellow before she fulfilled her promise to you. Then you might have whistled for any provision for your boys ; no man would agree to give up such a slice of his wife's fortune as this. I know I would not. Women never have any real senso of the value of money ; th;>y are either slinky or extravagant. I am deuced glad I haven't to pay all i/our milliner's bills, my dear. I am exceedingly g-lad Kafherine has been so generous, but I'll be hanged if it is the act of a s - sible woman." " .Never mind ; there is quite a load off my heart. I think I'll have a new habit from Woolmorhausen now." " Why, I gave you one only two years ago." "Two years ago"! Why, that ia an ago. And you nead not pay for this one." "I see she says she will pay us a visit if convenient. Of course it is convenient. I'll run up to town on Sunday, and escort her down next day. The meet is for Tuesday. And mind you make thing's pleasant and comfortable for her, Ada, She would be an important, addition to our family. A handsome, spirited girl with a yood fortune to dispose of would be a feather in one's cap, I can tell you." " You'll find her awfully fallen off, Ormonde, and her spirits seem quite gone. Still I shall be very glad to have her here. But I do not see why you should go fetcfi her. You know Lady Alice Mor- daunt is coming on Saturday." " What does that matter ? I shall only be away one evening; and between you and me, though Lady Alice is everything that is nice and correct, she is enough to put the liveliest fellow on earth to sleep in half an hour. 1 ' " flow strange men are !" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, gathering up her ietters and putting them into the pocket of her dainty laco and muslin apron. " Nice, gentle, good women never attract you ; you only care for bold " ""Vivacious, coquettish, attractive little widows, like one I once knew," said the Colonel, laughing, as he carefully wiped his gray moustache. "You are really too absurd !" she exclaimed, sharply. " Do you meaii to say I was ever bold?" "No ; I only mean to say you are an angel, and a deucp'i InoVy angel in every senso into the bargain ! Now, have you any coin- missions? I am going to Monckton this morning, and I fancy tin dog-cart will be at the door. Where's the boy ? I'll lake him and nurse down to the gate with me if they'll wrap up. The little fellow is so fond of a drive." " My dear 'Duke ! such a morning as this ! Do you think I would lot the precious child out?" ' ' Nonsense ! Do not make a molly-coddle of him. He is as strong as a horse. Send for him anyway. I haven't seen him this in (ru- ing. And be sure you write' a proper letter to Katherine Liddell ; you had better let me see it bo.fore it goes." "Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind. Do you think I never wrote a letter in my life before I knew you?" " Oh, go your own way, "retorted the Colonel, boating a r.^-n '> save a totaf rout. 126 A CROOKED PATR In due course Katherine received an effusive letter of thanks, and a pressing 1 invitation to come down to Castlefordon the following 1 Monday, and saying that as the hunting season was almost over, they would be ve'ry quiet till after Easter, when Mrs. Ormonde was poing 1 to town for a couple of months, ending with an assurance that the dear boys were dying to see her, and that Colonel Ormonde \vas piling- to London for the express purpose of escorting her on her journey. "It is certainly not necessary," observed Katherine, with a smile, " considering how accustomed I am to take care of myself . Still it is kindly meant, and 1 shall accept the offer." This t > Miss Payne, as they rose from luncheon where Katherine had told her the con tents of her letter. "Ahem ! No doubt they are anxious to show you every attention. Would you like to take Turner with you? I could spai-e her very well." Turner was the maid expressly engaged to wait upon Miss Liddell. " Oh no, thank you, I want so little waiting on. Lady Alice Mor- daunt will be with Mrs. Ormonde, and will be sure to have a maid, so another might be inconvenient." "My dear Miss Liddell, if you will excuse me for thrust- ing advice upon you, 1 would say that ' considering ' -people is the very best way to prevent their showing you consider- ation." " Do you really think so? Well, it is really no great matter." " Then you shall not want Turner? Then I shall give her a holi- day. Her mother or her brother is ill, and she wants to go home. Servants' relations always seem to be ill. It must cost them a good deal." ' ' No doubt. Will you come out with me ? I have some shopping to do, and your advice is always valuable." "I shall be very pleased, and I will say I shall miss you when you leave miss you very much." "Thank you," said Katherine, gently. "I believe you will as you say so.'"* Without fully believing Ada's rather exaggerated expressions of gratitude and affection, Katherine was soothed and pleased by them. She, was so truthful herself that she was disposed to trust others, and the h-,-arty welcome offered her took off from the sense of loneliness which had long oppressed her. Hers was too healthy a nature to encourage morbid grief. To the last day of her life she remembered her mother with tender, loving regret ; but the consolation of kno\v- ing that her later days had been so happy, that she had passed av a v so ]>eacefully, did much toward healing the wounds which were still bleeding. On the appointed Monday Colonel Ormonde made his appearance in the early afternoon, and found Katherine quite ready to start. He was stouter, louder, bluffer, than ever. When Miss Payne was introduced to him he honored her with an almost imperceptible bow and a very perceptible stare. Turning at once to Katherine, he ex- claimed : " What ! in complete marching order already ? I protest I never A CROOKED PATH. 127 knew a -woman punctual before. But I always saw you were a sensible girl. Iso nonsense about you. Why, my wife told me you were looking- ill. I don't see it. At any rate Castleford air will soon bring back your roses." "I am feeling and looking better than when I came over, and Miss Payne has taken such good care of me," said Katherine, who did "not like to see the lady of the house so completely over- looked. "Ah! that's well. You know you are too precious a piece of goods to be tampered with. I believe Bertie Payne is a nephew of yours," he added, addressing Miss Payne "a young fellow who was in my regiment three or four years ago, "the Twenty-first Dragoon Guards?" "He is mv brother," rettirned Miss Payne, stiffly. " Ah ! if ope he is all right. Have scarcely seen him since he has gone, not to the dogs, but to the saints, which is much the same thing. Ha ! ha ! ha !" " Indeed it is not, Colonel Ormonde !" cried Katherine. "If every one was as good as Mr. Payne, the world would be a different and a better place." "Hey! Have you constituted yourself his champion? Lticky dog ! Come, my dear girl, we must be going. Are you well wrapped up ? It is deuced cold, and we have nearly three miles to drive from the station." He himself looked liked a mountain in a huge fur-lined coat. "Good-by, then, dear Miss Payne. I suppose I shall not see you again for a fortnight or three weeks." "By George ! we sha'n't let you off with so short a visit as that ! Say three years. Come, march we haven't too much timV Throwing a brief "good-morning " at the "old maid" of uncertain position, the Colonel walked heavily down-stairs in the wake of his admired young guest. Monckton was scarcely four hours from London, but when the drive to Castleford was accomplished there was not too much time left to dress for dinner. Mrs. Ormonde was awaiting Katherine in the hall, which was bright with lamps and fire-lr-rV ; behind her were her two boys. When Katherine had been duly welcomed. Mrs. Ormonde stood aside, and the children hesitated a moment. Cecil was so much grown, Katherine hardly knew him. He came forward with his natural assurance, and said, confidently: "How d'ye do, auntie? You have been a long time coming." Charlie was more like what he had been, and less grown. He hesitated a moment, then darted to Katherine, and throwing his arms round her neck, clung to h;v lovingly. She was infinitely touched and delighted. How vividly the past came back to her ! the little dusty house at Bayswater, the homely establishment kept afloat by her dear mother's industry, the small study, and the dear weary face associated with it. How ardently she held the child to her heart ! How thankfully she recognized that here was something to cherish and to live for !" "They may come with me to my room?" she said to her hostess. 128 A CROOKED PATH. " Oh, certainly ! only if you beg-in that sort of thing- you will never be able to get rid of them." " I will risk it, said Katherine, as she followed Mrs. Ormonde upstairs to a very comfortable room, where a cheerful fire blazed on the hearth. " I am afraid you find it rather small, but I was oblig-ed to give the best bedroom to Lady Alice noblesse oblige, you know. I am sure you will like her, she is so gentle ; I think her father was very L 1 1 1 to let her come, as she can see more of her /m nee. They are not to he married till the autumn, so Oh dear! there is the second boll. Cis, run away and tell Madeline to come and help your auntie to dress ; and you too, Charlie; you had better go too." "He may stay and help me to unpack." " Why did you not bring your maid, dear ? It is just like you to leave her behind ; but we 'could have put her up ; and you will miss her dreadfully." " I do not think either of us has been so accustomed to the atten- tions of a maid as not to be able to do without one," returned Kath- erine, smiling. " You know / always had a maid in India," said Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of superiority. "Don't be long over your toilet ; Or- monde's cardinal virtue is punctuality." In spite of the hindrance" of her nephew's help, Katherine man- aged to reach the drawing-room before Lady Alice or the master of the house. Mrs. Ormonde was talking to an elderly gentleman in clerical attire beside the fireplace, and at some distance a tall, digni- fied-looking man was reading a newspaper. Mrs. Ormonde was most becomingly dressedin black satin, richly trimmed with lace and jet a brilliant contrast to Katherine, in thick dull silk and crape, her snowy neck looking all the more softly white for its dark setting : the only relief to her general blackness was the ^ii^i^ light on her glossy, wavy, chestnut brown hair. ^-ro'u have been very quick, dear," saidthe hostess. "lam going to send you in to dinner," she added, in a low tone, " with Mr. Errington, our neighbor. He is the head of the great house of Errington in Calcutta, and the fiance of Lady Alice ; but Colonel Ormonde must take her in. Mr. Errington !" raising her voice. The gentleman thus summoned laid down his paper and came forward. "Let me introduce you to my sister, Miss Liddell." Mr. Errington bowed, rather a stately bow, as he gazed with surprised interest at the large soft eyes suddenly raised to his, then quickly averted, the swift blush which swept over the speaking face turned toward him, the indescribable shrinking of the graceful figure, as if this stranger dreaded and would fain avoid him. It was but for a moment ; then she was herself again, and the door opening to admit Lady Alice, Errington hastened to greet her with chivalrous respect/ and re- mained beside her chair until Colonel Ormonde entered with the butler, who announced that dinner was ready. A CROOKED PATH. 129 CHAPTER XIV. IN THE TOILS. THE drawing- and dining rooms at Castleford were at opposite sides of a larg-e square hall, and even in the short transit between them Erring-ton felt instinctively that Miss Liddell shrank from him. The tips merely of her black -gloved fingers rested on his arm, while she kept as far from him as the length of her own permitted. At table her host was on her right, and Lady Alice opposite, next to the rector, who was the only invited guest ; Errington was always ex- pected, and had returned from a distant canvassing expedition, for the present member for West Clayshire was believed to be on the point of retiring on account of ill health, and Mr. Erring-ton of Gar- ston Hall, intended to offer himself for election to the free and inde- pendent. He had had a fatiguing day, but scarcely admitted to himself how much more restful a solitary dinner would have been, with a cigar and some keen-edg-ed article or luminous pamphlet in his own com- fortable library afterward, than making conversation at Colonel Ormonde's table. However, to slight the lady who had promised to be his wife was impossible, so he exerted himself to be agreeable. The rector discussed some parish difficulties with his hostess, while Colonel Ormonde, though profoundly occupied with his dinner, managed to throw an observation from time to time to his young- neighbors. " Rode round by Brink worth Heath in two hours and a half," he was saying to Lady Alice, when Katherine listened. "That was fair going. I did not think you would have g-ot Mrs. Ormonde to start without an escort." " We had an escort. Lord Francis Carew and Mr. De Burg-h came over to luncheon, and they rode with us." "Ha, Errington ! you see the result of leaving this fair lady's side all ung-uardt-d ! These fellows come and usurp your duties. " Do you think I should wish Lady Alice to 'forego any amuse- ment because I am so unlucky as to be prevented from joining her r 1 " returned Errington, in a deep mellow voice. Katherine looked across the table to see how Lady Alice took the remark, but she was rearranging some geraniums and a spray of fern in her Waistband, and did not se3in to hear. She was a slight colorless girl of nineteen, with regular features, an unformed though rather graceful figure, and a distinguish d air. Erring-ton caught the expression of his neighbor's face as she glanced at hisjiancee., a sympathetic smile parting her lips. It was rarely that a countenance had struck him so much, which was prob- ably 'due to his odd but strong impression that his new acquain- tance was both startled and displeased at being introduced to him an impression very strange to Errington, as he was c-enerally wel- comed by all sorts and conditions of men, and especially of women. The silence of Lady Alice did not seem to disturb her lover ; he turned to Katheriae and asked, "Were you of ths riding- party tQ- day !" 130 A CROOKED PATH. " No** she replied, meeting his eyes fully for an instant, and then averting her own, while the color came and went on her cheek ; "I only arrived in time for dinner." "Have I ever met this young- lady before?" thought Errington, much puzzled. "Have I ever unconsciously offended or annoyed her? I don't think so; yet her face is not quite strange to me." And he applied himself to his dinner. "I fancy you have had rather a dull time of it in town?" said Colonel Ormonde, leaning back, while the servants removed the dishes. "No, I was not dull," replied Katherine, glad to turn to him. "I was very comfortable, and of course not in a mood to see many strangers or to o anywhere Then I was interested in Mr. Payne's undertakings ; they are quite as amusing as amusements." "Bertie Payne! to be sure ; the nephew or brother of your doughty chaperon. He is always up to some benevolent games. Queer fellow." " He is very, very good," said Katherine, warmly, " and he does so much good ; only the amount of evil is overpowering." " Yes," said Errington ; " I am afraid such efforts as Payne's are mere scratching of the surface, and will never touch the root of the evil." " I suspect he is a prey to impostors of every description," said Colonel Ormonde, with a fat laugh. " He is always worrying for subscriptions and God knows what. But I turn a deaf ear to him." " I cannot say I do always," remarked Errington. "While we devise schemes of more scientific amelioration, hundreds die of sharp starvation or misery long drawn out. Payne is a good fellow, and enthusiasts have their uses." "You are so liberal yourself , Mr. Errington," cried Mrs. Ormonde, * I dare say you are often imposed upon in spite of your wisdom." "My wisdom !" repeated Errington, laughing. '' What an origi- nal idea, Mrs. Ormonde ! Did you ever know I was accused of wis- dom ?" he added, addressing Lady Alice. "Papa says you are very sensible," she returned, seriously. "Of course," cried Mrs. Ormonde. "Why, he has written a pamphlet on 'Our Colonies,' and something wonderful about the state of Europe didnt he, Mr. Heywood ?" " Yes," returned the rector. "I suspect our future member will be a cabinet minister before the world is many years older." Lady Alice looked up with more of pleasure and animation than she had yet shown. Errington bent his head. " Many thanks for your prophecy;" and he immediately turned the conversation to the ever -genial topics of hunting and horses. Then Mrs. Ormonde gave the signal of retreat to the drawing-room. Here Katherine looked in vain for her nephews. "I suppose the boys have gone to bed, Ada?" " To bed ! oh yes, of course. Why, it is more than half past eight ; it would never do to keep them up so late. Would you like to see baby boy asleep ? he looks quite beautiful. " 4 ' Yes,! should, very much, " returned Katherine, anxious to gratify the mother. A CROOKED PATH. 131 "Come, then," cried Mrs. Ormonde, starting up with alacrity. As the invitation was general, Lady Alice said, in her gentle way, "Thank you ; I saw the baby yesterday." " She has really very little feeling," observed Mrs. Ormonde, as she went upstairs with her sister-in-law. " She never notices baby." " I am a 'raid I should not notice children much if they did not belong to mo.'' " My dear Katherine, you are quite different. Of course Lady Alice is sweet and elegant, but not clever. Indeed, I cannot see the use of cleverness to women. There is a fine aristocratic air about her. After all, there is nothing like high birth. I assure you it is a high compliment her being allowed to stay here. Her aunt, Lady Mary Vincent, is a very fine lady indeed, and chaperons Lady Alice. But her father, Lord Melford, is' a curious, reckless sort of man, al- ways wandering about yachting and that kind of thing ; he is rather in difficulties too. 'They are glad enough to send her down here to see something of Errington. You know Errington is a very good match ; he has bought a great dc'.al of the Melford property, and when old Errington dies he will be immensely rich. The poor old man is in miserable health ; he has not been down here all the winter. I believe the wedding is to take place in June ; we Avill be invited, of course ; you see Colonel Ormonde is so highly connected that I am in a very different position from what 1 was accustomed to. And you, dear, you must marry some parson of rank ; there is noth- ing like it." " Yes," said Katherine, with a sigh, "everything is changed." " Fortunately !" cried the exultant Mrs. Ormonde, opening the door of a luxuriously appointed nursery. "Here, nurse, I have brought Miss Liddell to see Master Or- monde. " A middle-aged woman, well dressed, and of authoritative aspect, rose from where she sat at needle-work, and came forward. " I have only just got him to sleep, ma'am," she said, almost in a whisper, "and if he is awoke now, I'll not get '' ; m off again before midnight." " We'll be very caroiul, uursu. Is ae not a fine little fellow, Kath- erine?" and she soft;/ turned back the bedclothes from the sturdy, chubby child, who had a somewhat bulldog c ^< T !eof countenance and a beautifully fair skin "How ridiculously like Colonel Ormonde '^ f.s !" whispered Kath- erine. " I do not see any trace of you." " No ; he is quite an Ormonde. He is twic as big as either Cis or Charlie was at his age." After a few civil comments Katho.iue suggested their visiting the other children. "Perhaps it would be wiser not to go," said the mother ; "they will not be so sound asleep as baby, and " "You must indulge me this once, Ada. I long to look at thorn " "O!s ' of course, dear ; ring for Eliza, nurse ; she will show Miss Lid i . " lie way. I must go back ; it would never do to leave Lady Alice yo long alone." 132 A CROOKED PATH. " Do not apologize," said Katherine, with a curious jealous pang, as she noted Mrs. Ormonde's indifference to the children of her first poor love-match. A demure, flat-faced girl answered the bell, and led Kath- erine down passages and up a crooked stair to another part of the house. Here she was shown into a room sparsely supplied with old furni- ture. There was a good fire, and a shaded lamp stood on a large table, where a girl sat writing. "Here is a lady to seethe young gentlemen, "said the nurse-maid. The voung scribe started up, looking confused. " Tf it would not disturb them," said Katherine, gently, "I should like to see my nephews in their sleep." " Oh, Miss Liddell !" exclaimed the governess, a younger, com- moner-looking person than Katherine had chosen before she left England. "This is their bedroom," and she led Katherine through a door opposite the fireplace into an inner room. There in th.:ir little beds lay the boys who were all of kith or kin left to KatherinB Liddell. How lovingty she bent over and gazed at them ! Cecil had grown much. He looked sunburnt and healthy. One arm was thrown up behind his head, the other stretched straight and stiff beside him, ending in a closelv clinched little brown f.st. His lips, slightly apart, emitted the softly drawn regular breath of profound slumber, and the smile which some pleasant thought: had conjured up before he closed his eyes still lingered round his mouth. Katherine longed to kiss him, but feared to break his profound and restful slumbers. She passed to Charlie. His attitude was quite different. He had thrown the clothes from his chest, and his pinky white throat was bare ; one little hand lay open on the pa;4 - e of a picture-book at which he had been looking when sleep overtook him ; the other was under his soft round cheek : his sweet and still baby face was grave if not sad. He looked like a little angel who had brought a message to earth, and was grieved and wearied by the sin and sorrow here below. Katherine's heart swelled with tender- est love as she gazed upon him, and unconsciously she bent closer till her lips touched his brow. Then a little hand stole into hers, and, without moving, as though he had ex p;*c-t ti her, he opened his eyes and whispered, " Will you come and kiss me every night, as grannie did ?" "I will, my darling, every night." " Will grannie nerer come and kiss me again ?" "Never, Charlie ! She will never come to either of us in this life.'* A big tear fell on the bov's forehead. " Don't cry, auntie ; slie loves us all the same." And he kissed the fair cheek which now lay against his own as his aunt fcnelt beside his bed. " Go to sleep, dear love ; to-morrow you shall take me to see your garden and the pony." " You will be sure to come?" "Yes, quite sure." In a few minutes the clasp of the warm little hand relaxed, and Katherine gently disengaged nerself. A CROOKED PATH. 133 " The boys are no longer first in their mother's heart," thought Katherine, ns she returned to the drawing-room. " Were they ever first ? They are they plight become all the world to me. They might fill my life and'give it a fresh aspect. The new ties at whic4 Mr. Newton hinted can never exist for me. Could I accept aa> honorable man and live with a perpetual secret between us ? CotL^ I ever confess ? No. My most hopeful scheme is to be a mother to these children. And oh ! I do want to be happy, to feel the joy in life that used to lift up my spirit in the old days when we were struggling with poverty ! I will throw off this load of self -contempt. 1 have not really injured any one." In the drawing-room Colonel Ormonde was seated beside Lady Alice, making conversation to the best of his ability. She looked serenely content, and held a piece of crochet, the kind of fancy-work which occupied th 3 young ladies in the "sixties." The rector and Mr. Errington were in daep conversation on the hearth-rug, and Mrs. Ormonde was reading the paper. "So you have been visiting the nursery?" said the Colonel, rising and offering Katherine a chair. " Your first introduction to our young man, I suppose?" " Yes. What a great boy he is ! the picture of health !" "Ay, he is a Trojan, " complacently. ' ' The other little fellows are looking well, eh?" "Very well indeed. Cis is wonderfully grown; but Charlie is much what he was. " "He'll overtake his brother, though, before long," said Colonel Ormonde, encouragingly, as he rang and ordered the card-table to be set. " You play whist, I suppose ? We want a fourth." " I am quite ignorant of that fascinating game," returned Kather- ine, " and very sorry to be so useless." "It is lamentable ignorance ! Lady Alice, will you take compas- sion on us? No? then we must have Errington." Errington did not seem at all reluctant, and the two young ladies were left to entertain each other. Katherine, who had gone to the other end of the room to look at some water-color drawings, came back and sat down beside her. Lady Alice looked amiable, but did not speak, and Katherine felt greatly at a loss what to say. " What very fine work !" she said at length, watching the small, weak-looking hands so steadily employed. "Yes, it is a very difficult pattern. My aunt, Lady Mary, never could manage it, and she does a great deal of crochet, and is very evjf." " It seems most complicated. I am sure I could never do it." " Do you crochet much?" "Not at all." " Then," with some appearance of interest, " what do you do?" " Oh ! various things ; but I am afraid I ana not industrious. I would rather mead my clothes than do fancy work." '' M/iwfli yow cloJ-k 1 * f" repeated Lady Alice, in unfeigned amazo- BMMK 134 A CROOKED PATa "Yes. I assure you there is great pleasure in a symmetrical patch." "But does not your maid do that?" '* Now that I have one. she does. However, you must show me how to crochet, if you will be so kind ; my only approach to fancy-work is knitting". I can knit stockings. Isn't that an achievement?" " But is it not tiresome?" "Oh ! I can knit like the Germans, and talk or read." " Is it possible?" A long pause. " Mrs. Ormonde says you arc very learned and studious," said Lady Alice, languidly. "How cruel of her to malign me P' returned Katherine, laughing". " Learned I certnhilv am not ; but I am fond of indiscriminate read' in>, though not studious." "I like a nice novel, with dreadful people in it, like Miss St. Maurs. Have you read any of hers?" " I don't think so. I do not know the name.'' " The St. Maurs are Devonshire people a very old country family, I believe. Still, when she writes about the season in London, I don't think it is very like." Another paus-3. " You have been in Italy, I think, Lady Alice?'' recommenced Katherine. " Oh yes, often. Papa is always cruising about, you know, and we stop" at places. But I have never been in Home." " Yachting must be delightful." " I do not like it ; I am always ill. Aunt Mary took me to Flor- ence for a winter." "Then you enjoyed that, I dare say," said Katherine. " I got fired of it. I do not care for living" abroad ; there is noth- ing to do but to go to picture -galleries and theatres." 11 Well, that is a^good deal," returned Katherine, smiling. ?' Where do you like to live, Lady Alice?" " Oh, in the country. I am" almost sorry Mr. Erring-ton has a house in town. I am so fond of a garden, and riding on quiet roads ! I am afraid to ride in London. The country is so peaceful ! no one is in a hurry." " What a happy, tranquil life she will lead under the aegis of such a man as Mr. Erirington ! " thought Katherine. " Do you play or sing ?" asked Lady Alice, for once taking the initiative. " Yes, in a very amateur fashion." "Then," with more animation," perhaps you would ] -lay my ac- companiments for me ; I always like to stand when I sing. 'Mrs. Ormonde says she forgets her music. Is it not odd?" " Well, people in India do as little as possible. I shall be very pleased to play for you. Shall we practice to-morrow ?" " Oh yes ; immediately after breakfast. There io really nothing to do here." "Immediately after breakfast I am going out with the bovs Mrs. Ormonde's boys. Have you seen them? But we shall nave plenty of time before luncheon." A CROOKED PATH. 135 " Are you fond of children ?" slowly, while her busy needle paused and she undid a stitch or two. "I am fond of these children; I do not know much about any other." "Beverley's children (my eldest brother's) are very troublesome ; they annoy "me very much." Silence while she took up her stitches again. ""The worst of this pattern is thatif you talk you are sure to go wrong." " Then I will find a book and not disturb you," said Katherine, good humoredly. She felt kindly and indulgent toward this gentle helpless creature, who seemed so many years younger than herself, thotryh barely two, in fact. That she was Erringtou's // <;/<-< gave h r> r a cii'-inus interest in Katherine's eyes. She would willingly have don -3 him all possible good ; she Avas strangely attracted to the man she had cheated. There was a simple natiiral dignity about him that pleased her imagination, yet she almost dreaded to speak to him, List the very tones of her voice, the encounter of their eyes, should betray her. At last Errington, looking at his watch, declared that as the rubber was over, he must say good-night. "What, are you not staying here to-night?" said Colonel Or- monde. "No; I have a good deal of letter-writing to get through to- morrow, so did not accept Mrs. Ormonde's kind invitation." "You'll have a deuced cold drive. Come over on Thursday, will vou? Old Wray, the banker, is to dine here, and one or two Monkton worthies. Stay till Tuesday or Wednesday. The, next meets are Friday and Monday, on this side of the county. There will not be many more this soason." " Thank you ; I shall be very happy." He crossod to where Lady Alice still sat placidly at work, and made his adieux in a low tone, holding her hand for" a moment longer than mere acquaintanceship warranted, and having exchanged good-nights, left the room, fol- lowed by his host. There was a good fire in Katherine's bedroom, and having de- clined the assistance of Mrs. Ormonde's maid, she put on her dressing- gown and sat down beside it to think. She was still quivering- with tha nervous excitement she had striven so hard and so successfully to conceal. When Mrs. Ormonde had given her rapid explanation of who Errington was, and without a pause presented him, Katherine felt as if she must drop at his feet. Indeed, she would have been thank- iul if a merciful insensibility had made her impervious to his ques- tioning eyes. Shp well knew who he was. He was the real owner of the property she now possessed. The will sho had suppressed bequeathed all John LidueH's real and personal property to Miles Errington, only son of his old friend Arthur Errington, of Calton Buildings, London, E. C., and Calcutta. She, the robber, stood in the presence of the robbed. Did he know by intuition that she was guilty ? How grave and questioning his eyes were! Why did he look at her like that? How he would despise her and forbid his affianced wife to be outraged by her presence it he knew ! 136 A^CHftOKED PATH. He looked like a high-minded gentleman. If he seemed almost sternly grave, his smile was kind and frank, and she had made her- self unworthy to associate with such men as he. But he vas rich. He did not need the money she wanted so sorely. What of that? Did his abundance alter the everlasting conditions of right and wrong ? Perhaps if she had not attempted to play Pro- vidence for the sake of her family, and let things follow their natural course, Mr. Errington might have spared a few crumbs from his rich table a reasonable dole to patch up the ragged edges of their frayed fortunes. Then she would not be oppressed with the sense of shame, this weight of riches she shrank from using. She had mur- dered her own happiness ; she had killed her own youth. Never again could she know the joyousness of light-hearted girlhood, while nothing the world might give her could atone for the terrible tres- pass which had broken the harmony of her moral nature by the perpetual sense of unatoned wrong -doing. How she wished she had never come to Castleford ! True, her seeing Mr. Errington did not make her guilt a shade darker, but oh, how much more keenly she felt it under his eyes ! And now she could not rush away. She must avoid all eccentricities lest they might possibly arouse suspi- cion. Suspicion? What was there to siispect? No one would dream of suspicion. Then that Avill ! She would try and nerve her- self to destroy it, though it seemed sacrilege to do so. Whatever she did, however, she must think of Cis and Charlie. Having com- mitted such an act, her only course was to bear the consequences, and do her duty by the innocent children, whose fate would be cruel enough should she indulge in any wi-ak repentance or seek relief in confession. She had burdened herself with a disgraceful secret, and she must bear it her life long. It gave her infinite pain to face Miles Errington, yet while at one moment she longed to n'y from him, the next she felt an extraordinary desire to hear him "speak, to learn the prevailing tone of his mind, to know his opinions. There was a earnestness in his look and manner that appealed to her sympathies. He was a, just, upright gentleman. What would he think of the dastardly deed by which she had robbed him ? "I must not think of it. I must try and forget I ever did it, and be as good and true as I can in all else. And the will ! I must destroy it. I am sure my poor old uncle meant to do away with it. Perhaps if it were clean gone I might feel more at rest. How strange it is that instead of growing accustomed to the contempla- tion of my own dishonesty I become more keenly alive to the shame of my act as time roPs on ! Poihaps if I am brave and resolute I may conquer the scorpion stlng'd of self-reproach. How dear those two" sweet peaceful years ha\t; cost me! Would I undo it all to lave myself these &ig' ? &o. 'i'kca I &u;>|,ose to bear is to conquer one's > e * ^ r PATH. 137 ; otto CHAPTER XV. CROSS PURPOSES. THE first ten days at Castleford would have been dull indeed to Katherine but for the society of Cis and Charlie in the mornings, and the interest she took in watching Errington (who was of course a frequent visitor) in the evenings. Though she avoided conversing with him as much as possible, he was a constant study to her. He was different from all the men she had previously met. She often wonderod if anything could disturb him or hurry him. Had he ever climbed trees and torn his clothes, or thrashed an adversary ? Had he any weaknesses, or vivid joys, or passionate longings ? Yet ha did not seem a prig. His manner, though dignified, was easv and natural ; his eyes, though steady and penetrating, were kindly ; his baaring had the repose of strength. It was too awful to contemplate what his estimate of herself would be if he knew ; but th3n he must mn-er know ! As it was, he seemed inclined to be friendly and communicative, pleased when he met her strolling in the garden with Lady Alice, and gratified to find that she could accompany his fiancee's songs. Indeed he said he had never heard Lady Alice sing so well as when Miss Liddell played for her. Apart from the boys and Errington, Katherine found time hang very heavily on her hands. The aimless lingering over useless fancy-work or second-rate novels, the discussion of such gossip as their correspondence supplied, by means of which Mrs. Ormonde and Lady Alice got through the day, were iniinitely wearisome to her. Miles Errington was one of those happy individuals said to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The only son of a wealthy father, who, though enriched by trade, had come of an old Border race, he had had the best education money could procure. More fortunate still in the endowments of nature, he was well formed, strong, active, and blessed with perfect health ; while mentally he was intelligent and reflective, thoughtful rather than brilliant/ and by temperament profoundly calm. He had never got into scrapss or committed extravagance. He was tha despair of managing mammas and fascinating young married women ; yet he was not unpopular with either sex. Men respected his strong, steady char- acter, his high standard, his sound judgment in matters afecting the stable and the race-cotirs:; ; women were attracted by his obligingness and generosity. Still he was the sort of man with whom few became intimate, and none dared take a liberty. Pre- served by his fortunate surroundings and strong tranquil nature from difficulties or temptations, he could hardly understand the passionate outbreaks of weaker and more fiery men. His greatest physical pleasure was an exciting run with the hounds ; his deepest interest centred in politics ; though never in- dulging in sentiment, he was an earnest patriot. Whether he 138 A CROOKED PATH. could be moved by more personal feelings remained to be proved. At present the sources of tenderer affection, if they existed, lay so deep below the strata of reason and common-sense that only some artesian process could pierce to the imprisoned springs and set the " water of life" free, perhaps to bound, geyser-like, into the outer air. * Having travelled by sea and land, and looked into the social and political condition of many countries, having mixed much with men and women at home and abroad, Errington thought it time to take his place in the great commonwealth to marry, and to try for a seat in the House of Commons. He therefore selected Lady Alice Mordaunt. She was rather pretty, graceful, gentle, and quite at his service. He really like her in a sort of fatherly way ; he looked forward with quiet pleasure to making her very happy, and did not doubt she would in his hands mature into asuificif.nt companion, for though Erring-ton was not naturally a selfish man, his life and training disposed him to look on those connected with him as on the whole created for him. He had been absent for two or three days, having gone up to town to visit his father, who had been somewhat seriously unwell, and as he rode toward Castleford he gave more thought than usual to his young fiancee. In truth, a visit to Colonel Ormonde was a great bore to him. He had nothing in common with the Colonel, whose pig-headed conservatism jarred on Erring ton's broader views, while his stories and reminiscences were exceedingly uninteresting, and sometimes worse. Mrs. Ormonde's small coquetries, her airs and graces, were equallv unattractive to him. Still it was well to have Lady Alice at Castleford, within easy roach, while there was go much to occupv his time and attention in the country. As soon as he was sure of his election he would hasten his marriage, and perhaps get the honey-moon over in tiir.e to take his seat wh;b there was still a month or two of the session unexpired. From Lady Alice it was an easv transition of thought to the new guest at Castleford. "Where hacl he seen her face? and with what was he associated in her mind ? Nothing agreeable ; of that he was quite sure. The vivid blush and indescribable shrinking he had noticed more than once (and Errington, like most quiet men, was r close observer) seemed unaccountable. Miss Liddell was far from shy ; she was well-bred and evidently accustomed to society ; her avoidance had therefore made the more impression. His experience of life had hitherto been exceedingly unemotional, and Kuthvi iiu .'s unexpected betrayal of feeling puzzled him not a little. At this point in 'his reflections he had reached that part of the road where it dipped into a hollow, on one side of which the Melford woods began. A steep bank rose on the right, thickly studded with beech and oak trees, still leafless, but tint-canty, yellowish grass which grew beneath them was tufted A\ ith primroses and violets. As Errington came round a bend in the. little valley the sound of shrill, childish laughter came pleasantly to his ear, and the next minute brought him in sight of a lady in mourning' \\ 'LTD he re- cognized immediately, and two little boys, who wen-, high up the bank, busily engaged filling a basket with sweet spring- blossoms. A CROOKED PATH. 139 Errington paused, dismounted, and raising 1 his hat, approached her. " I did not expect so meet you so far afield," he said. " You are not afraid of a long 1 walk." "My nephews have led me on from flower to flower," she returned, again coloring 1 brightly, but not shrinking from his eyes. "Now I think it is time to go home." " It is not late," he returned. "How is every one at Castle-ford?" " Quite well. Lady Alice has lost her cola, and regained her voice she was singing this morning," said Katherine, smiling as if she knew the real drift of his question. ' I am glad to hear it," he returned, soberly. Errington and Lady Alice did not write to each other every dav. "Auntie," cried Cis, "the basket is quite full. If you open your sunshade and hold it upside-down, I can fill that too." " No dear ; you have quite enough. We must go back now." "Oh, not yet, please?" The little fellow came tumbling down the bank, followed bj- Chai'lie, who immediately caught his aunt's hand and repeated, " Not yet, auntie !" " These are Mrs. Ormonde's boys, I suppose?" said Errington. "Yes ; have you never seen them before?" "Never. And have you not had enough climbing?" he added, good humoredly, to Charlie. "No, not half enough !" cried Cis. "There's such a bunch of violets just under that biggest beech-tree, nearly up at the top ! Do let me gather them just those ; do do do !" " Very well ; do not go toe fast, or you will break your neck.'' Both boys started off, leaving their basket -at Katherine's feet. "1 remember now," said Errington, looking at her, "where I saw I saw you before. Is was two nearly three years ago, at Hyde Park corner, when that elder boy had a narrow escape from being run over." " Were you there ?" she exclaimed, so evidently surprised that Erringtoh 'saw the impulse was genuine. " I recollect Mr. Payne and Colonel Ormonde ; but I did not see you." " Then where have you met me?" was at his lips, but he did not utter the words. " AVell, P;iyne was of real service ; I did nothing. The little fel- low had a close shave." "He had indeed," said Katherine, thoughtfully, with downcast eyes ; then, suddenly raising them to his, she said, as if to herself, ''And you were there too ! How strange it all is !" " I see nothing so strange in it, Miss Liddell," smiling good-hu- moredly. " Have you any superstition on the subject ?" " No ; I am not superstitious ; yet it was curious I mean, to meet by accident on that day just before " She stopped. "And now I am connected with Colonel Ormonde, living with Mr. Payne's sister, and and talking here with .youd : " I don't see that. If every one helped two or three poor creatures winm they knew, we should not have all this poverty and suffering which are distract- ing 1 to think about." "I doubt it ; it would be more likely to pauperize the whole nation." Here Charlie and Cis, with earth-stained knees and hands the latter full of violets reluctantly descended. Adding these to the basket already overflowing, they had a short wrangle as to who should carry it, and then Katharine turned her steps homeward. Errington passed the bridle over his arm, and to her great an- noyance, walked beside her. " Are you, then, disposed to give yourself to faith and to good works?" " I do not know. 1 should like to help those who want, but I fear I am too fond of pleasure to sacrifice myself at least I was and I suppose the love will return. Of course it is easy to give money ; it is hard to give one's self." " You seem very philosophic for so young a lady." " I am not young," said Katherine, sadly; "lam years older than Lady Alice." " How many one or two?" asked Errington, in his kind, fatherly, somewhat superior tone, which rather irritated her. "The years / mean are not to be measured by the ordinary standard ; oven i/u-i must know that some years last longer no, that is not the expression press heavier than others." "Even I? Do you think I am specially matter-of-fact ?" " I have no right to think you anything, for I do not know you $ but you give me that impression." " I dare say I am ; nor do I see why I should object to be so con- sidered." Here Cecil, who got tired of a conversation from which he could gather nothing, put in his oar : "Are you Mr. Errington?" "I am. How do you know my name ?" " I saw you going out with the Colonel to the meet oh, along while ago ! And Miss Richards and nurse were talking about you." "They said you had a real St. Bernard dog one that gets the people out of the snow," cried Charlie. " Will you let him come here ? I want to see him." " You had better come and pay him a visit." " Oh yes, thank you !" exclaimed Cis. " Auntie will take us, per- haps. Auntie will'take us to the sea-side, and than we shall bathe, and go in boats, and learn to row. '' "Cis. run with me to that big tree at the foot of the hill. Auntie will carry the basket," cried Charlie, and the next moment they were off. ' ' Fine little fellows, " said Errington. ^ ' I like children. " A CROOKED PATH. 141 " I am going- to ask Mrs. Ormonde to lend them to me for a few months, for they are all I have of kith or kin." " They are not at all like you," returned Erring-ton, letting 1 his quiet, but to her most embarrassing-, eyes rest upon her face. " Yet they are my only brother's children." Here Katherine pausad with a sense of relief ; they had reached a stile where a fopt- vray led across some fields and a piece of common overgrown with bracken and g-orse. It was the short-cut to Castleford, by which Cecil had led her to the Melford Woods. " Oh, do come round by the road, auntie," he exclaimed ; "per- haps Mr. Erring-ton will let me ride his horse." " I do not know if he will, Cis, but / certainly will not. I am tired too, dear, and want to g-et home the shortest way I can, so bid Mr. Erring-ton g-ood-by, and come with me. No, don't shake hands ; yours are much too dirty." " > -ver mind ; when you are a big 1 boy I'll g-ive you a mount. Good ! >y, Master Charlie i/ou are Charlie, are you not? Till we meet at dinner, Miss Liddell." He raised his hat, 'and divining- that she wish .M! him to let her get over the stile unassisted, he mounted his hor.s; 1 ;v.} ! rode swiftly away. " I am su.v hi", would have given me a ride if you had gone by the road, auntie,' said Cecil, reproachfully. 11 1 could not have allowed you, dear ; so do not think about it." Erring-ton meanwhile rode pii, unconsciously slackening his pace as he inu.s.-d. " No, she certainly has never S3^n me before, yet she kiv>v,.s me. Plow? She was very glad to get rid of me just now. Why.- 1 I am inoTensive enough. There is something uncommon about her ; she gives me the iciea of having a history, which is any- thing but desirable for a young woman. What line eyes she has ! She is something like that Sibyl of Guercino's in the Capitol. Why does she object to me? It is rather absurd. I must make her talk, then I shall find out." Here his horse started, and broke the thread of his reflections. By the tima the steed had pranced and curvetted a little, Erring-ton's thoughts had turned into some of their usual graver channels, and Kathsrine Liddell was well, not absolutely forgotten. The object of his reflections reached the house rather late for the boys' tea, and expecting to find her hostess and Lady Alice enjoying the same refreshment, she gave her warm out-door jacket to Cecil, who immediately put it on as the best mode of taking it upstairs, and went into Mrs. Ormonde's morning-room, where afternoon tea was always served. It was a pleasant room in warm summer weather, as its aspect was east, and the afternoons were cool and shady there ; but of a chill evening at the end of March it was cold and dim, and needed the glow of a good fire to make it attractive. Daylight still lingered in the sky, but was fast fading, and the dancing lig-ht of a cheerful fire was a pleasant contrast to the gray shadows without. The room Avas very nondescript ; its furniture was of the spidery fashion which ruled when the "first gentleman " held the reins ; thin hard sofas and scanty draperies were supple- mented by Persian rugs and showy cushions, while various speci- 142 A CROOKED PATH. . mens of doubtful china crowded the mantel-piece and consoles. Mrs. Ormonde was quite innocent of original taste, but was a quick, industrious imitator, while of comfortable chairs she was a most competent judge. Quite sure of finding Mrs. Ormonde, Lady Alice, and Miss Brcre- ton another visitor refreshing themselves after their outdoor ex- ercise, and intending to announce the pleasant news of Erring-tun's return, Katherine exclaimed, " Lady Alice !" as she crossed the threshold, then so:-ir.g no one, stopped. " Lady Alice is not here," said a strong, harsh voice, and a tall figure in a shooting-coat and gaiters rose from the depths of a largo arm-chair, the back of which was toward the door and stood before her. Katherine was slightly startled, but guessed it was one of two guests expected to arrive that day. She advanced, therefore, and said, "Mrs. Ormonde is unusually late, but I am sure she will soon be here." " Meantime tea is quite ready. It has stood twice the regulation five minutes ; and is there any just cause or impediment why it should not be poured out ?" " Not that I am aware of," returned Katherine, taking off her hat and smoothing back her hair, which showed golden tints in the fitful fire-light. The low tea-table was set before the fire, she drew a chair beside it and removed the cozy from the teapot. Recognizing De Burgh from Mrs. Ormonde's description, she felt that he was even more at home at Castleford than herself, and she also came to the conclusion that he knew who she was. She had been prepared by Mrs. Ormonde's evident admiration to dislike De Burgh, having made up her mind that he would prove an empty- headed, insolent grandee, whose pretensions imposed upon her sister-in-law's somewhat slender experience, and whose life was probably given up to physical enjoyment. He had not, how- ever, the aspect of a mere pleasure-seeker. His dark, strong face and bony frame looked as if he could work as well as plav. ''Do you take sugar?" < No, thank you ; neither sugar nor cream." " Neither? That is very self-denying !" " Not self-denying ! Were I foolish enough to do what I did not like, I should take the sugar and cream. They do not happen to please my palate." "It is well we do not all like the same things.' " It is indeed !" He held his cup untested for a moment, looking thoughtfully into the fire. " Tea is the best drink you can have in difficult, fatiguing journeys. Even the gold-diggers of Australia know that. Thev drink hard enough when they are on the spree, but when at work in earnest they stick to the teapot," he said, turn- in- his eyes full upon her with a cool, critical gaze, which half amused, half irritated her. It was curious to sit there talking easily with a total stranger. Perhaps she ought to have left him to himself, but it was not much matter. Looking- toward the window to avoid her companion's eyes, she exclaimed : A CROOKED PATH. 143 " It is raining- quite fast ! I am glad I brought the children home before this shower." " An avant-courier of April. You were walking with Mrs. Or- monde's boys, then ?" " Yes ; I take them out every day." "An uncommonly good-looking governess," thought De Burgh. " You have not been here long, I think ?" he said. "About three weeks. The boys are quite used to me now, and enjoy their walks, for I take them outside the grounds," said Katherine, feeling sure that De Burgh must guess who she was. ' ' Indeed ! You are a daring innovator. I suppose they were kept on the premises till you came?" "They were; and it is always tiresome to be kept within bounds. " " I quite agree with you. The sentiment is extremely natural, only young ladies rarely confess it." "Why?" " Oh, you ought to know better than I do. You give me the idea of being" a plucky woman. "You must be quick in gathering ideas," said Katherine, dryly. "Yes; some subjects inspire me," he returned, handing in his cup. "Another, please. I am a bit of a physiogomist. I think T could give a rough sketch of your character." He stirred the lire to a bright::!- blaze and added, "It is so deuced dark since that shower came on I can hardly see you, but I will tell you my ideas, if you care to hear them." " Yes, I shriKl," she returned, laughing. "It will be curious to hear the result of an instantaneous estimate. Why, five minutes ago you had never seen me." " JFive minutes ? No ; ten at least. Well, then, I should say you are a remarkably plucky girl, though perhaps not impervious to panic. And, let me see," fixing his keen, n'erceeyeson hers, " gifred with no small power of enjoyment. With a strong dash of the rebel in you, and well, I could tell you more, but I won't." Katherine laughed good-humoredly . " Have I hit it off ?" he asked, after waiting for her to speak. " 1 cannot tell. Do we ever know ourselves ?" " That's true ; but few admit their ignorance. I begin to think that you are dangerous, in addition to your other qualities, as you can refrain from discussing yourself ; that is a bait which draws out most women." "And most men, "added Katherine. "We haven't much to re- proach each other with on that score. " "No, I must admit that. Self is a fascinating topic.' "Some more tea?" asked Katherine, demurely. " No, thank you. I am not absolutely insatiable. Tell me," he went on, with a quaint familiarity which was not oTousive, "now can a girl with your nature mind, I have not told half I gu_-ss how can you stand your life here walking about with those brats, making tea while the others are out amusing themselves, hammer- ing away at the same round day after day ? You are made for different things." 144 A CROOKED PATfl. " I should not care to live at Castleford all the days of my life," said Katherine, a little surprised by his question, and feeling there was a mistake somewhere; ''but I do not intend to stay Ion-." "Oh, indeed! How do you get on with Mrs. Ormonde? She doesn't worry you about the boys? She is a jolly, pretty little woman ; but you are not exactly the sort of young lady I 'should have fancied would be her choice." " Why not?" asked Katharine, beginning to see his mistake. " Because " began De Burgh, looking full at her, and then paused. " You are too handsome by half !'' were the words on his lips, but he did not utter them ; he substituted, "You don't seem quite the thing' for Mrs. Ormonde." ' She finds I suit her admirably," said Katherine, gravely. "I don't quite understand " De Burgh was beginning, when the door opened tc admit Mrs. Ormonde. "Ah, Mr. De Burgh, I did not expect you so early ; but I am glad Katharine was here to give you your tea. It is not necessary to in- troduce you. I was afraid' you would have been caught in that shower, Katie." " We just escaped it. I hope Lady Alice has found shelter, or she will renew her cold." ' You are Miss Liddell, then?" said De Burgh, as he placed a chab for Mrs. Ormonde and took her cloak. ' To be sure. Didn't you guess who she was ?" "Mr. De Burgh guessed a good deal, but he did not gftess my identity," said Katharine, handing her a cup of tea. " What ! Were you playing at cross questions and crooked an- swers ?" "Something of that sort," he returned, and changed the subject by asking if they had heard how Errington's father was. " Better, I suppose, for Mr. Errington has returned. He met us when we were in Melford Woods." " I dare say he met Alice and Miss Brereton, then," said Mrs. Or- monde ; "they were riding in that direction." " Lady Alice will be taken care of, then," said Katherine, and taking her hat she went away, seeing that Mrs. Ormonde was quite ready to absorb the conversation. "So that is Katherine Liddell," said De Burgh, looking after her, regardless of Mrs. Ormonde's declaration that she was going to scold him. " Yes. Is she not like what you expected?" "Expected? I did not expect anything ; but she isn't a bit like what you described." "How so? Did I say too much?" " Yes, a great deal too much, but the wrong way." " What do you mean ?" "Why, you talked as if she was a i-egular gushing school -girl, ready to swallow any double-barrelled compliment one chose to offer, whereas she is a finely developed woman, by Jove ! with brains too, or I am much mistaken. Why, my charming 1 little friend, she is older in some ways than you are." A CROOKED PATH. 145 " Oh, nonsense. You need not flatter me." " It's not flattery, it's" The arrival of the riding- party with the addition of Erring'ton prevented him from finishing his sentence. CHAPTER XVI. HANDLING THE RIBBONS. DE BURGH was told off to take Katherine in to dinner that day and the next, and bestowed a good deal of his attention on her during the evening. He rather amused her, for he was a new type to her. The men she had met during her sojourn on the Continent were chiefly polished French and Italians, whose softness and respectful manner to women were perhaps exaggerated, and a sprinkling of diplomatic and dilettante Englishmen. De Burgh's style was curiously almost roughly frank, yet there was an unmistakable air of distinction about him. He seemed not to think it Avorth while to take trouble about anything, yet he could talk well when by chance a topic inter- ested him, Katherine would have been very dull had she not per- ceived that he was attracted by her. The was by no means so exalted a character as to be indifferent to his tribute ; nevertheless she was half afraid of the cynical, outspoken, high-born Bohemian, who seemed to have small respect for people or opinions. She showed little of this feeling, however, having held her own with spirit in their various arguments, as, it need scarcely be said, they'rarely agreed. " What is this mysterious piece of work I see constantly in your hands? 1 ' asked De Burgh, taking his place beside Katherine when the men came in after dinner a few days after his arrival. " It is a black silk stocking for Cecil." " One of the nephews, eh ? So you are capable of knitting! It must be a dreary occupation." " No ; it becomes mechanical, and it is better than sitting with folded hands." " I am not sure it is. I have great faith in natures that can take complete rest men who can do nothing, absolutely nothing and so create a reserve fund of fresh energy for the next hour of need. There is no strength in fidgety feverishness." " There is not much feverishness in knitting," returned Kather- ine, beginning a new row. "There is very little feverishness about you, yet you are not placid. I am extending and verifying my original estimate of your character, you see." " A most interesting occupation," said Katherine, carelessly. " YCK, most interesting. I wish I had more frequent opportunities of studying it ; but one never sees you all day. Where do you hide yourself ? " I take long rambles with the children, and " She paused. " Does it amuse you to play nurse maid?" 146 A CROOKED PATH. " Yes, at present. Then my nephews and I were playfellows long 1 ago." " I imagine it is a taste that will not last." "Perhaps not." " Miss Brereton and Lady Alice, with Erring-ton and myself, are Sing to ride over to Melford Abbey to-morrow. You will, I hope, of the party ?" " Thank you. I do not ride." " It is rather refreshing to meet a young lady who is not horsy, but it is a loss to yourself not to ride." * " I dare say it is. Yet what one has never known cannot be a loss. I am sorry I wa-; not accustomed to ride in my youth." " It is not too late to learn, remote as that period must be," said De Burgh, smiling. "You are in the headquarters of horsemen and horsewomen at present. Appoint me your riding-master, and in a couple of months I shall be proud of my pupil." "I am not particularly brave," she returned, "and the experi- ment would produce more pain than pleasure." " Pain ! nothing of the kind. I have a capital lady's horse, steady as a rock, splendid pacer, temper of an angel. He is quite at your service. Let me telegraph for him, and begin your lessons the day after to-morrow." De Burgh raised himself from his lounging position, and leaned forward to urge his pleading more earnestly. " Let me persuade you. You will thank me herea. ter." "Thank you, 1 ' said Katherine, shaking her head. "It is too late. I shalf never learn how to ride, but I should like to know how to drive." " There I can be of use to you too. You will want an instructor. Pray take me ! " The last words, spoken a little louder than the rest, caught Mrs. Ormonde's ear as she was crossing the room, and she paused beside her sister-in-law to ask, " Take him for what? for better or worse, Katherine?" "Blundering little idiot!" thought De Burgh ; while Katherine answered, with remarkable composure, " Nothing so formidable ; only to be my instructor in the art of driving." " Well, and do you accept?" "Yes ; 1 shaft b'e very pleased to learn. I should like to be able to ' conduct' a pair of ponies, as the French would say." " Ah yes ! and cut a dash in the Park," said Mrs. Ormonde, taking the seat De Burgh reluctantly vacated for her. "I don't se i why she should not, Mr. De Burgh {do you?" "Certainly not, provided only Miss Liddell can handle the ribbons." "Very well, Katherine: you devote yourself to acquire the art here, and then join us in a house in town this spring. I was reading the advertisements in the Times to-day. I always look at the house* to let, and there is one to let in Chester Square which would suit us exactly ; that is, if you will join. She ought to have a season in town, ought she not, Mr. De Burgh?" He lookod keenly at Katherine, and smiled. " Yes, Miss Liddell A CROOKED PATH. 147 ought to taste the incomparable delights of the season by all means. Life is incomplete without it." " I shoukHike to experience it certainly, for once, but I shall be more in the mood for such excitements next year per&ops," return- ed Katherine, gravely. " Oh, my dear Katie, never put thing's off ! At all events, be presented. That would be a sort of beginning- ; and I am to be pre- sented too, so we might go together." " I do not intend to be presented," said Katherine ; " it would be needless trouble. I have not the least ambition to go to court." " But, Katherine, it is absolutely necess try to take your proper position in society. It is not, Mr.' De Burgh '?" "What is your objection?" asked De Burgh, disregarding his hostess. " Are you too radical, or too transcendental, or what?" "Neither. I simply do not care to go, and do not see the neces- sity of going." "You were always the strangest girl I'' cried Mrs. Ormonde, a good deal annoyed. " But still, if you were with us, you might see a good deal " " You know, Ada, lam fixed for this year, and would not change even if I could." "Forgive me for interrupting you," said Errington, coming from the next room. " But if you are disengaged, Lady Alice would be greatly obliged by your playing for her." "Certainly," cried Katherine. She had a sort of pleasure in obliging Errington, and Lady Alice for his sake ; and putting her knitting into its little case, she rose and accompanied him to what was called the music-room, because it contained a grand piano and an old, nearly stringless violin. "I don't think," said De Burgh, looking after her, "that your sister-in-law is quite as much under your influence as you fancy." "Oh, don't you?" cried Mrs. Ormo*nde, feeling a flash of dislike to Katherine thrill through her. It was terribly trying to find an admirer, of whom she was so proud, drawn from her by that " tire- some, obstinate girl " ; it was also enough to vex a saint to see her turn a deaf ear to her more experienced and highly placed sister's suggestion. "When you know a little more of her }^ou will see how obstinate and headstrong she is." "Ah! troublesome qualities those, especially in a rich woman, and a handsome one to boot. There is something very taking about that sister-in-law of yours, Mrs. Ormonde. If I were Lady Alice I wouldn't trust Errington with herj she would be a dangerous rival. " " Oh, nonsense ! Do you think our Admirable Crichton could go wrong ?" "I don't know. If he ever does, he'll go a tremendous cropper." " Well, Mr. De Burgh, if you would like to go in and win, you had better make the running now. Once she ' comes out ' in town, you will find a host of competitors." " Ha ! I suppose you think a rugged fellow like me would have little or no chance with the curled darlings of May Fair and South Kensington ?" Mrs. Ormonde looked down, on her fan, but did not 148 A CROOKED PATH. speak. De Burgh laughed. " Who is going 1 to bring her out?" he asked. " I am," with dignity. De Burgh's reply was short and simple. He said, " Oh !" and the interjection (is there an interjection now? I am not young enough to know) brought the color to Mrs. Ormonde's check and a frown to her fair brow. "The young lady is, on the whole, original," he continued. " She does not care to be presented." " Do you believe her? I don't. She only said so from love of contradicting." "Yes, I believe her ; she does not care about it now ; but she will probably get the court fever after a plunge into London life. Who is singing? that is something different from the penny whistling Lady Alice gives us." " Why it must be Katherine ! It is the first time she has sung since she came. She it always afraid of breaking down, siu says. I don't believe she has sung" since the death of her mother." De Burgh's only reply was to walk into the next room. Leaving Mrs. Ormonde in a state of irritation against him, Katherine, and the world in general. Katherine was singing a gay Neapolitan air. She had a rich, sympathetic voice, and sang with arch expression. " Errington stood beside her, and Ladv Alice, the rector's wife and one or two other guests, were grouped round. "Thank you. That it thoroughly Italian. You must have studied a good deal," said Errington, who rather liked music, and was accustomed to the best. "Very nice indeed," added Lady Alice. "Very nice" washer highest praise. "I should like to learn the song." ' I do not think it would suit you," observed Errington. " Why, Katherine, I had no notion you could 'tune up' in this way," cried Colonel Ormonde. " Give us another, like a good girl; something English ' Robin Adair. ' There was a fellow in 'ours' used to sing it capitally." " I cannot sing it. Colonel Ormonde. I am very sorry." " Oh, Katherine ! I have heard you sing it a hundred times," cried Mrs. Ormonde, joining them. "Why, it was a great favorite with poor dear Mrs. Liddell." " I cannot sing it, Ada," repeated Katherine, quick and low. As she spoke she caught Errington's eyes. " Jso one ought to dictate to a songstress," he said, very decidedly. " Give us anything you like, so long as you sing." Kate bent her head, feeling that he understood her, and her hands wandered over the keys for a minute ; then, with a glance at Col- onel Ormonde, she began "Jock o' Hazeldean." Katherine was not the kind of girl to nurse her grief, to dwell upon it with morbid insistence: but she remembered, warmly, lovingly. At times gusts of passionate regret swept over her and shook her self-control, and she dared not attempt her mother's favorite song ; the mere request for it called up a cloud of memories. she saw the dear face, the sweet faded blue eyes that used to dwell upon her so tenderly, with such unutterable content. No other eyes A CROOKED PATH. 149 would ever look upon her thus ; never again could she hope for such perfect sympathy as she had once known. "Does that make up for 'Robin Adair,' Colonel Ormonde?" she said when the song 1 was ends d. " A very good song and very well sung 1 , but it's not equal to 'Robin Adair."' 'Lady Alice, will you try that duet of Helmer's ?" asked Kath- erine ; and Lady Alice graciously assented. " I shall miss your accompaniment dreadfully when I leave," she said, when the duet was accomplished. "I feel so sure when you play, and you help me. I hope you will come and see me. Lady Mary, my aunt, would be very pleased ; don't you think she would ?" to Erring-ton, appealingiy. "Certainly. I hope, Miss Liddell, you will not desert Alice. If you will permit it, Lady Mary Vincent will have the pleasure of calling- on you." "That will be very kind," returned Katherine, softly. If this man were safely married and settled, she thought, she would like to be friends with his wife, and serve him in any way she could. If his eyes did not always confuse and distress her, how much she could like him ! As she rose from the piano, De Burgh, who had been speaking- aside with Colonel Ormonde, left him to join her. "I have settled it all with Ormonde," he said. "I am to have the pony-carriage ar.d the dun ponies (not those Mrs. Ormonde generally drives) to- morrow ; so, if it do3S not rain, I'll give you your first lesson ; that is, //' vou will allow me." "You are very prompt," returned Katherine, "and very good to take so much trouble. If it is line, then, to-morrow. Pray arm yourself with patience. Are not the dun ponies rather frisky ?" "Spirited, but free from vice. Ormonde had them from my stables. It's no use learning to drive with dull, inanimate brutes. You'll consi u:r yourself engaged?" "I do, if Mrs." Ormonde does not want me to go anywhere with her." "She will not," said De Burgh, confidently. " Good-night," returned Katherine. " Tell Mrs. Ormonde I have stolen away, for I have a slight headache." "What ! going already?" cried De Burgh. "No more songs? The evening, then, is over." The following day was soft and bright. March had evidently made up his martial mind to go out in a lamb-like fashion, and Do 1.,.. _;li was unusually amiable and communicative. "When shall \oii be ready to start?" he asked, following Katherine from the breakfast-table. "To start where?" she asked. "What! have you forgotten our plans of last night?" was his counter-question. "I am to give you your first lesson in driving this morning. I only wait your orders before going to see the ponies put in. We had better take advantage of the fine morning." "Ay, that's right, Do Burgh ; make hay while the sun shines,* 150 A CROOKED PATH. said Ormonde, with his usual tact and jocularity. " But it would be better to have tried a quieter pair than Dick and Dandie." " I think you may trust Miss Liddell to me," returned De Burgh, impatiently" "Well, when shall I bring- round the trap?" " Whenever you like. I am afraid you have set yourself a tire- some task." De Burgh laughed. "If you prove careless or disobedient, why, I'll not repent the dose. In half an hour, then, I'll have the carriage at the door.'' That half-hour was spent by Katherine in explaining to Cis and Charlie that she could not go out with them that day, for the morn- ing was promised to De Burgh, and after luncheon she had under- taken to try over the song which had pleased her with Lady Alice, who was to leave the next day. The little fellows thought them- selves very ill-used. But Miss Richards, who had greatly prized her deliverance from long muddy rambles since Katherine's advent, promised to take them to fish in a stream which ran between the Castleford and Melford properties. " Do you suppose I shall dare to touch the reins of these terrible creatures?" said Katherine when De Burgh dashed up to the door, and held the spirited, impatient animals steady with some difficulty. " We'll get rid of some of the steam first, and you will get accus- tomed to their playfulness," he returned. " Here, Ormonde, haven't you a rug for Miss Liddell? It may come on to rain." " Yes ; here you are ;" and Colonel Ormonde, who was examining the turnout, tucked up his fair guest carefullv, and warned them to be back in good time, as he wanted De Burgh to ride over with him to see some horses which were for sale a mile or two at the other side of Mori ck ton. " What a frightful pace ;" said Katherine, after they had whirled out of the gates, yet feeling comforted by De Burgh's evident mastery of the ponies. "You are not frightened? Don't you think I can manage them ?" " I am not comfortable, because I am not accustomed to horses and furious driving." "Oh, they will settle down presently. Where shall we go through Garston ? It's a fine place. Perhaps you have seen it?" " I have not, and I should like to see it very much. She was de- lighted with the suggestion. It would be a help to her, a consolation, to see so visible a token of Errington's wealth. " Curious fellow, Erringtpn," resumed De Burgh. " I suppose lie is about tne only man who isn't spoiled by the most unbroken pros- perity. Still, a fellow who never did anything wrong in his life is rather uninteresting ; don't you think so?" "Has he never done anything wrong? That seems rather in- credible." "If he has, he has kept it deucedly close. But you are right ; it is very incredible." They drove on for a while in silence. It was a delicious morning a blue sky flecked with fleecy white clouds, bright sunlight, birds singing, hedges budding, all nature welcoming the lirst sweet in- A CROOKED PATH. 151 toxication of renewed youth stirring in her veins. Katherine loved the spring-time, and felt its influence profoundly, but it was the first spring in which she had been alone ; this time last year she t^T" had been at Bordigh; j ra. How heavenly fair it had been ! Bu., De Burgh was speaking : "You did not hear, or rather heed, what I said, MissLiddell ; that's not civil." "Indeed it is not forgive me. What did you sav?" "I suppose you like country life best, as you demolished Mrs. Ormonde's scheme respecting a house in town so promptly ?" "I enjoy looking at the country, but I know nothing of country life. I am not sure I s-hould like it." "What's your objection to drawing-rooms and balls the season generally ?" "I do not object ; but is my deep mourning suited to these gay eties, Mr. De Burgh >"' " Well, no. Jbeg your pardon. Mrs. Ormonde started it, you know. I fancy it would take double-distilled mourning to keep her out of the swim." "It is impossible for one nature to judge another which is totally different, fairly." " Very true and very prudent. I have not got to the bottom of your character yet, but I am pursuing- my studies," said De Burgh, with a grim sort of smile. " You see they are settling down to their work now," pointing his whip to the ponies. "I'll give you the reins in a minute or two." " I think I ought to begin with something quieter," said Kather- ine, looking at them uneasily. De Burgh laughed. "There is a nice stretch of level road before us nothing to interfere with you. Change places with me, if you please. Here, put the reins between your fingers so ; now a turn of the wrist guides them. I'll hold your hand for a bit. You had better not let the whip touch them so. There you are. I'll show you how to handle the ribbons before you are a fortnight older ; that is if you will come out overy day with me." " Would you take that trouble?" exclaimed Katherine. " I can take a good deal of trouble if I like my work. Now hold them steady, and keep your eye on them. When we come to the trees, on there, turn to the left." "So far there doesn't seem to be much difficulty; they seem to go all right of their own accord," she said," after a few minutes. " They are a capital pair ; but there is nothing to disturb them." For the rest of the way to Garston, De Burgh only spoke to give the lesson he had undertaken, and Katherine found herself growing interested and pleased. When they entered the gates, however, she asked him to take the reins. She wanted to look about her, to remark the surroundings of Errington's house. It was a fine place, somewhat flat, perhaps, but beautiful with splendid trees, and a small lake, through which ran the stream in another part of which Cis and Charlie were going to fish. The 152 A CROOKED PATH. house stood well, the grounds were admirably laid out and perfectly- kept : evidences of wealth were on all sides. "I suppose it costs a great deal of money to keep up a place like this," said Katherine, breaking- a silence which had lasted some minutes : De Burgh never troubled himself to speak unless he really had something to say. "I shouldn't care to live here on less than ten thousand a year," he returned, glancing round. "And has Mr. Errington all that money?" " His father has a good deal more. He bought this place for him, I believe. Old Errington is very wealthy, and on his last legs, from what I hear." " Ten thousand a year ! What a quantity of money !" " Hem ! I think I could get through it without much trouble." " Then you have always been rich ?" "Richf I have been on the verge of bankruptcy all my life. I never knew what it was to have enough money." "But you seem to have gone everywhere and done every thing." " Yes, by discounting my future at a ruinous rate," he returned, with a sort of reckless candor that amused his hearer. " You scarcely understand me, I suppose." " I think I do. I know how uncomfortable it is to want money." " Indeed ! Still, it's not so hard on women as on men." "Why?" "We want so much more." " Then you have so many more chances of earning it." " Earning it ! Oh, that is a new view of the case P' "I should not mind doing it ; that is, if I could succeed." ' ' Do you know, I took you for your nephews' governess. It never crossed my mind you Avere an heiress. As a rule, heiresses are re- volting to the last' degree." "I feel the compliment." " Remember. I like their money, only I object to its being en- cumbered." "You are wonderfully frank, Mr. De Burgh." " I dare say you said 'brutally frank' in your thoughts, Miss Liddell, and you are right. I am rather a bad lot, and a little too old to mend. " But let it be a saving clause in your mind, if I ev;:r recur to it, that the fact of your being nice enough for the governess impelled me to offer driving lessons to the heiress. Will you t;t^- the reins? You might hold them forever if you choose." " Not yet, thank you when we get out on the road again," re- turned Katherine, not seeing or seeming to see his covert meaning. " You are surely not a democrat ?" "A democrat ? No. I have no particular view as regards politics ; but if the devil ever got so completely the upper hand in this world as to leave it without a class to serve and obey us, their natural superiors, I'd decline to stay here any longer, and descend by the help of a bullet to lower regions, where I should have better society." " More congenial society, I am sure," said Katherine, laughing, though revolted by his tone. She felt it would never do to show she was. " You are quite different from any one I ever met. Do you A CROOKED PATH. 153 know, you give me the idea of a wicked Norman Baron in the Middle Ages." De Burgh laughed, as if he rather enjoyed the observation. " I know," he said ; "a regular melodramatic villain, ' away with him to the lowest dungeon beneath the castle moat ' sort of fellow, who would draw a Jew's teeth before breakfast and roast a restive burgher after. I wonder, considering you possess the two strongest attractions for men of this description money and (may I say it ?) beauty that you trust yourself with me." "Ah ! you concealed your vile opinions successfully ; so you see I could not know my danger, " returned Katherine, laughing. " You are not at all a modern man." " I accept the compliment." "Which I did not intend for one. "When we get through the gates I will take the reins again." "Certainly ; but the ponies' heads will be turned homevrard, and I am afraid ttiey will pull. They have steadied down wonderfully." The rest of the drive was spent iii careful instruction, and Katherine was surprised to find how quickly the time had gone when they reached the house. De Burgh interested her in spite of her dislike of the opinions and sentiments he expressed. There was something picturesque about the man, and she felt that he was attracted to her in a curious and almost alarming manner. Yet she was conscious of an inclination to play with lire. It was some time since she felt so light-hearted. The sight of Errington's luxurious surroundings seemed to take something from the load upon her conscience, and this sense of partial relief gave brilliancy to her eyes, as the fresh balmy air gave her something of her former rich coloring. " By Jove ! , cried Colonel Ormonde, as Katherine took her place at luncheon, "your drive has agreed with you. I've never seen you look so well. You must pursue the treatment. How did she get on, De Burgh ?" " Not so badly. But Miss Liddell is more timid than I expected. She'll g;;t accustom -,;d to the look of the cattle in a little while. Courage is hiruvly made up of a habit. I'll take some of that cold lamb, Ormonde." " And De Burgh spoke no more till he had finished his luncheon. gymnastics on the piano. " I have just been taking to Ormonde about him. I remember having been s:-nt to call upon him long ago, when I was at college, I think. He lived in some wild north- land ; I remember it was a great way off. Then my father went for a trip to Calcutta, and I fancy lost si^'lit of his old chum." Katherine grew ivd and white as he spoke ; she could only mur- mur, "Yes, i was told they had been friends." " Then you must accept me as a hereditary friend," said Erring- ton, kindly. "I. shall tell my father that I have made your ac- quaintance, though he does noc take much interest in any thing- now, I am sorry to say." 154 A CROOKED FATr. " I am sorry " faltered Katherine. " Both Lady Alice and I hope to have the pleasure of seeing 1 you in town," continued Erring-ton, having- waited in vain for her to finish her sentence. " I am going- to see her safely in her aunt's charge to-morrow, and shall not return, I fancy, till you have left." " You are both very good. I shall be most happy to see you again," returned Katherine, mastering- her forces, though she'felt ready to fly and hide her guilty head in any corner. Erring-ton felt that she was unusually uneasy and uncomfortable with him, so made way the more readily for De Burgh, who monopolized her for rest of the evening. The next day was wet, and for a week the weather was unsettled, so that Katherine had only one more lesson in driving before the party broke up, and De Burgh too was obliged to leave. But Katherine prolonged her stay. Charlie, in ardor for iishing, had slipped into the river and caught a severe, feverish cold. The way in which he clung to his auntie, the evident comfort he derived from her presence, the delight he had in holding her cool soft hand in his own burning little lingers, made him impossible for her to leave him. Bv the time he Avas able to sit up and play with his brother, poor Charlie was a pallid little skeleton, and his auntie bade him a tender adieu, determined to lose no time in find- ing sea-side quarters for the precious invalid. CHAPTER XVII. TAKING COUNSEL. Miss PAYNE was busy looking over several cards which lay in a small china dish on her work-table. It was early in the fore- noon, and she still wore a simple muslin cap and a morning gown of gray cashmere. Her mouth looked very rigid and her eyes gloomy. To iier enters her brother, fresh and bright, a smile on his lips and a ilower in his button-hole. Miss Payne vouchsafed no greeting. Looking at him sternly, she asked, " Well ! what do you want?" " To ask at what hour "Miss Liddell arrives, and if I am to meet her at the station." 'S!u>, is not coming to-day," snapped Miss Payne; "she is not coming till Saturday." " Indeed !" In a changed tone, " I hope she is all right?" "It's hard to answer that. It saems one of the nephews has had a feverish cold, and she did not like to leave him. I do not feel sure there is not some real reason under this, for she adds that she is anxious to see and consult me aboi'.t some matter she has much at heart. Perhaps there if,- a man at the bottom it." " I hope not," said Bertie, quietly, "unless she has found some former friend at Castleford. I do not think Miss Liddell is the sort of girl to accept a man on five or six weeks' acquaintance, and she has scarcely been at Castleford so A CROOKED PATtt 155 " It is impossible to fathom the folly of women when a lover is in the case." " You are hard, Hannah." " I do not care whether I am or not. I don't want to lose Miss Liddell before the time agreed for." "No doubt she is a profitable " " It is no question of profit," interrupted Miss Payne, grimly. " Whether she goes or whether she stays she is bound to me financi- ally for twelve months. But I am interested in Katherine, and it will be far better for her to stay on here and feel her way before she launches into the whirl of what they call society. I want to save her for a while from the wild rush of dressing, driving, dining, dancing, that has swept away all my girls sooner or later. Look here: the mothers are flocking- round her already." She began to take the cards out of the dish and read the names: "Lady Mary Vincent, 2.'] Waldegrave Crescent ; she is a sister of that Lord Mel- ford who ran such a rig years ago. Her boys are still at Eton. I suppose she comes because her niece and Miss Liddell have struck up u friendship at Castleford. Then here are Mrs. and Miss Alford; we all knew them in Rome ; there's a son there ; they are respect- able people, well off, and fighting their way up judiciously enough. Lady Barrington ; site has a nephew, but she will be useful. Mr. and Mrs. Tracey ; they were at Florence, and have a couple of daughters ; there may be a nephew or a cousin, but I never heard of one ; they are pleasant, sensible, artistic people, who just enjoy themselves and don't trouble. Lady MildredKeptan, Miss Brereton, John de Burgh ; I don't know these. All these people evidently think she is in town, or have only just come themselves, but you see the outlook." "John de Burgh," repeated Bertie, thoughtfully. "I remember something about him ; nothing particularly good. I believe he is on the turf. Yes, he is a famous steeple-chase rider, and rather fast not too desirable a follower for Miss Liddell." " She met him at Castleford, and I rather think he is related to Colonel Ormonde." Miss Payne put back the cards in the dish as she spoke, and remained silent for some instants. " You will be g-lad when Miss Liddell returns," said Bertie. "So will you," she returned, tartly. "But I hope you won't dip into her purse so freely as you used for your reformed drunkards JUKI rag.iivd orphans. It was too bad." " Miss Liddell never waits to be asked. She seems on the lookout for cas^s on which to bestow money. As she has plenty, why should I lu'.sitate to accept it?" Miss Payne slowly rubbed her nose with the handle of a small hook sh^ used for pulling- out the loops of her tatting. " Katherine Lid- dell is an uncommon sort of girl," she said, " but I like her. I have an idea that she likes me better than any of the others did, yet there are not many things on which we agree. She is a little flighty in some ways, but she has some sense too, some notion of the value of money ; she does not lose her dead about dress, nor does she buy costly baubles at the jewellers'. She certainly wastes a good many pounds on books, when a three-guinea subscription to Mudie's would 156 A CROOKED PATH. answer the purpose quite as well. Then she is honestly deeply grieved at the loss of her mother, but she does not parade it, "or nurse it either, and I think she has some opinion of my judgment. Still she is a little unsettled, and not quite happy." "I think she deserves to be happy," observed Bertie, with an air of conviction " if any erring- mortal can deserve anything." '' We seldom get our deserts, either way, hn-e ; indeed, this world is so upside down I am inclined to believe there must be another to put it straight." "We have fortunately better proof than that," returned her brother, gravel v. " I must say I feel very curious to know what Katherine's plan is ; I am terrible afraid there is a man in it." "Nothing 1 more probable;" and Bertie fell into a fit of thought. "You know Mrs. Needham !" he asked suddenly. " Well, I just know her." " She is a most earnest, energetic woman, though we are not quite of one mind on all subjects. She wants to secure Miss Liduell's assistance in getting up a bazar for the Stray Children's Home. I shall bring her to call on you." "Don't!" very emphatically. "I know more than enough people already, and I don't want any well-dressed beggars added to the number." " Well, 1 will not interfere ; but that is of little consequence. If Mrs. Needham wants to come, she'll come." "I hate these fussy subscription-hunting women!" cried Miss Payne. " She does r.ot hunt for subscriptions, nor does she take any special interest in religious matters, but she approves of this particular charity. She is an immensely busy woman, and writes in I don't know now many newspapers." " Newspapers ! And are our opinions made up for us by rambling hnssies of />< description :"' Bertie biirst out laughing. " If Mrs. Needham heard you ! " he exclaimed. "She considers herself 'the glass of fashion and the .mould of form,' the mast successful and important woman in the world the English world." Miss Payne's only reply was a contemptitous upward toss of the head. " If you will be at Euston Square on Saturday to meet the five-fifty train from Monckton," she resumed, "I should be obliged to you Miss Liddell travels alone, and you can dine with us if you like after, unlessyou an; going to preach the gospel somewhere." " Thank you. 'Why do you object to my preaching ?" " Because I like things done dacently and in order. You are not ordained, and there, are pi -uty of churches and chapels, God knows, for people to go to. if they would wash their faces and be decent. Now I can't stav here any longer, so good -by for the present." She took up a little basket containing an old pair of gloves, large scissors, and a ball of twine, and walked briskly away to attend to the plants in her diminutive conservatory. De Burgh did not prolong 1 his absence ; he returned to Castleford A CROOKED PAT&. 157 while Katherine was still in attendance on the little invalid ; but he found his stay neither pleasant nor profitable. Katherine was far too much occupied nursing her nephew to give any time or attention to her impatient admirer. " Miss Liddell is a peculiar specimen of her sex," he growled, in his usu .1 candid and unaffected manner, as he and Colonel Ormonde sat alone over their wine. " She never leaves tiaose brats. She must know that it's not every girl / should take the trouble of teach- ing-, and yet she throws over each appointment I make. Does she intend to adopt your wife's boys? Adopted sons are an appendage no man would 'like to accept with a bride, be she ever so well endowed." " Oh, she will forget them as soon as she falls in love ! You must carry on 'he siege more vigorously." " How the deuce are you to do it when you never get within hail of the fortress ? There is something- peculiar about Katherine Lid- dell I can't quite make out. If she .were a common-place woman, angular, squinting, or generally plain, I could go in and win and collar the cash without hesitation, but somehow or other I can't go into the afi'air in this spirit. I want the woman as well as the money." "well, I see no reason why you shouldn't have both. Your faintness of heart never lost you any fair lady, I am sure, Jack." "Perhaps not." And he smoked meditatively for a minute or two. " Then you will not leave us to-morrow ?" said Ormonde. " When does she go up to town?" asked De Burgh. " On Monday, I believe." " Then I'll run up the day after to-morrow. Old De Burgh has iust come back from the Riviera. I'll go and do the dutiful, and tell him I have found a suitable partner for my joys and sorrows ; it will score to my credit. He doesn't half like me, you know. Then I'll have a dozen better chances to cultivate Miss Liddell in town, and away from your nursery, than I have here. Give me her ad- dress. She is a frank, unconventional creature, and won't mind coming out with me alone." "Very true. Mrs. Ormonde has persuaded me to take her to town for a couple of months ; so we'll be there to back you up." "Good ! Meanwhile I will do my best for my own hand. If she starts on Monday, I'll pay my respects to the peerless one by the time she has swallowed her luncheon on Tuesday," said De Burgh, with a harsh laugh. Thus it came to pass that De Burgh's card was amongst thnsa pre- served for Katherine's inspection ; but she postponed her departure first to Wednesday, next to Saturday, and De Burgh grew savagely impatient when Colonel Ormonde informed him of these changes in a private note. When at last she did arrive, Miss Payne was struck by the look of renewed hope and cheerfulness in her young friend's face Her movements even were more alert, and her voice had lost its languid tone. *' I thought you would find it difficult to get away," said Miss 158 A CROOKED PATH. Payne, as she assisted her to remove her travelling 1 dress. "But 1 am very pleased to see you again, and to see you looking more like yourself. "I feel more like mv old self," returned Katherine, actually kissing Miss Payne a kind of treatment exceedingly new to her. "Li fact, I am full of a project which will, I hope, make me much happier. I will tell you all about it after dinner, if we are alone. Your advice will be of great value to me." " Such as it is, I shall be glad to give it ; though I do not suppose you'll take it unless it suits your wishes." 'Perhaps not," said Katherine, laughing ; " but I think it will." "She is going to marry some fortune-hunting scamp," thought Miss Payne. "I was afraid no good would come of her visit to that little dressy dolly sister-in-law of hers." She only said, "Dinner will be reacly in half an hour, and we shall bo quite alone." Then she went quickly down stairs to her brother, who was gazing out of the window, but not seeing what he looked at. " You can't dine here to-day, Bertie," said Miss Payne, abruptly, as she entered the room. "And why not?" " Because she wants to have some confidential conversation with me after dinner, and we must be alone." "Have you any idea what it will be about?" "No ; and I am astonished at your putting the question. You may come in after church to-morrow if you like." "'Thank you. I shall be rather late, as I am going to an open-air service beyond Whitechapel." " Well, I do hope you'll get something to eat after. Are you going- to preach?" "No. I seldom preach. I haven't the gift of eloquence." "Which means you have a little common -sense left. Really, Gilbert, for a man of thirty-five, or nearly thirty -live, you are too credulous." "It is my nature to be so," he returned, laughing. " Well, good- by to you. " It is really unkind to turn me out in this unceremonious fashion." So saying, with his usual sweet-tempered compliance he departed. What a good boy he is !" said Miss Payne to herself, looking at the grate, while by a dual brain action she made a brief calculation as to how much longer she must burn coal. " He ought to have been a girl. Why don't rich young women see that he is the very sti.if t> make a 'pleasant husband, instead of those monsters of strength and determination that fools of women make gods of, and themselves door mats for, and often find to be only big pumpkins after all ?" Miss Payne's anticipations were of the gloomiest when, after their quickly despatched dinner, she settled herself between the fire and window with her favorite tatting, drawing up the knots with vicious energy. She opened proceedings by an interrogative " Well?" and closed her mouth with a snap. "Well, my dear Miss Payne," began Katherine, who had settled herself comfortably in a corner of the sofa, "I have an important A CEOOKED PATH. 159 plan in my mind, and I want your co-operation. I should have written to you about it, only 1 waited to get Colonel Ormonde's con- sent. " "It's a man !" ejaculated Miss Payne to herself. " To begin : I was not at all satisfied with the bovs when I first went to Castleford. They were not exactly neglected, but they were quite secluded. Mrs. Ormonde scarcely saw mem, and their gover- ness or attendant was not at all lady -like ; she speaks with a London accent and misplaces her 7?'s ; altogether she is not the sort of per- son / should have placed with the boys. Then the poor little fellows clung to me and monopolized me as if / had been their mother ; they made me feel like one. Moreover, I seemed to see my own dear mother and hear her voice when they spoke to me. She loved them so much !" Katherine paused suddenly, but almost immediately resumed : " The youngest, Charlie, is not yet seven, and is very delicate. He has had rather a sharp attack of bronchitis. I am very anxious about him. How I want to take them to the seaside next month, and to keep them there all the summer, and I want your help to find a nice place. I know nothing of the English coast. More than this : I feel I could not get on without you, so you must come with us. Suppose, dear Miss Payne, we take a house with a garden near the sea, and you let this one ? I will gladly pay all extra cost, while our original agreement, as far as I myself am concerned, shall hold good." Miss Payne listened attentively to this long speech, the expres- sion of her countenance relaxing ; but she did not reply at once. "I think," she said, after a moment's thought, "that you are exceedingly liberal, hut I am not sure you are wise. As'far as I am concerned, I should like your plan very much. I do not profess to be fond of children, but I dare say these little boys would not interfere with me. As regards yourself, if you keep the children for the whole summer, it is possible Mrs. Ormonde might be inclined to leave them with you altogether, and this would create a burden for you a burden you are by no means called upon to bear. It is a dangerous experiment." "Not to me," returned Katherine, thoughtfully. " In fact it is a consummation for which I devoutly wish. I should like to adopt my nephews." "That would certainly be foolish. It would not be kind to the children, Katherine (asTou wish me to call you). In the course of a year or two you will marry, and then the creatures who had learn- ed to love you and look on you as a mother would be ag-ain motherless. Do not take them from their natural guardian." "What you say is very reasonable. You cannot know how- certain I feel that I shall not marry. However, let us leave all that to arrange itself in the future ; let us think of the present. Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde are coming up to town, for two or three months, in May, and I do not like the idea of Cis and Charlie being left behind ; so" will you help me, my dear Miss Payne ? Shall you mind a spring and summer in some quiet sea -side place?" Again Miss Payne reflected before she spoke, "i should ra 160 A CROOKED PATH, like it : and yotir idea of letting 1 this house is a good one. Yes, I shall be happy to assist you as far as I can. The first question is, where shall we go ?" "That, I am sure, you know best." An interesting- disquisition ensued. Miss Payne rejected Bourne- mouth, Weyin;)iuh, Worthing-, Brighton, and "Folkestone, for what seemed to Katherine sufficient reason, and finally recommended Sandbourne, a quiet and little-known nook on the Dorsetshire coast, as being- mild but not relaxing-, not too near nor too far from town, and possessing- fine sands, while the country round was less bare and flat than what usually lies near the coast." Finally the " friends in council " decided to g-o down and look at the place. " For," observed Miss Payne, -'if we are to go away the beginning of next month, we have little more than a fortnight be- fore us." "By all means," cried Katherine, starting up. "Let us go to- morrow ; we might 'do' the place in a day, and come back the next. You are. really a dear, to fall into my views so readily." "To-morrow? Oh! that's a little too fast ; the day after, if you like. Now I wish you would look at these cards ; they have all been left for you in the last few days." Katherine took and looked over them with some running com- ments. "Mrs. Tracy ! I shall be quite glad to see them again ; they were always so kind and pleasant. Lady Mary Vincent ! I did not think she would call so s; on ; I think I must go and see her to- morrow. I rather like her niece, Lady Alice Mordaunt ; she is a nice, gentle girl. She is to be married very soon to a man who interested me a good deal ; such a thoughtful, clever man, but rather provokingly composed and perfect a sort of person who never makes a mistake." "He must be a remarkable person," said Miss Payne. " He will soon be in Parliament, and has some 'of the qualities which make a statesman, I imagine. I shall watch his progress." Here Katherine took up a card, and while she read the inscription, "John Fitzstephen de Burgh," a slight smile crept round her lips. " I had no idea he was in town, or that he would take the trouble of calling on me so soon. I thought he was too utterly offended." " Why ?" asked Miss Payne, looking at her curiously. "He is rather ill-tempered, I fancy, and he was vexed because I preferred staying with Charlie to going out with him ; he offered to teach me how to drive ; so I believe, like the rich young man in the gospel, he went away in desperation." " Hum ! Is IK.' a rich young man ?" " He is not young, and I am not sure about his being rich. He has a hunting-lodge and horses, yet I don't fancy he is rich. He is a sort of relation of the Ormondes." "I suspect he is a spendthrift, and would like your money." " Oh, very likely ; but, my dear Miss Payne, you need hot warn me ; I am quite sufficiently inclined to believe that the men who show me attention are thinking more of what I have than what I am. Believe me it is not an agreeable frame of mind. Mr. De Burgh is a strange sort of character. He amuses me ; he is not a A CROOKED PATR 161 bit like a modern man. He doesn't seem to think it -worth while to conceal what he feels or thinks. There is an odd well-bred rough- ness about him, if I may use such an expression ; but I greatly pre- fer him to Colonel Ormonde." " Oh, you do? Colonel Ormonde is just an average man," added Miss Payne. " I should hope the general average is higher ; but I must not be ill-natured. He has always been very kind to me." This was a pleasant interlude to Katherine. She had succeeded in hushing her heart to rest for a while, in banishing the thoughts which had long tormented her. Nothing had comforted and satis- fied her as did this project of adopting her nephews. It is true she had not yet announced it, but in her own mind she resolved that once they were under her wing, she would not let them go again, unless indeed something quite unforeseen occurred ; nor did she, an- ticipate any difficulties with their mother. She would thus secure a natural legitimate interest in life, and make a home, which to a gin of her disposition was essential. Yet she knew well that in renounc- ing the idea of marriage she was denying one of the strongest neces- sities of her nature. The love and companionship of a man in whom she believed, for whom she could be ambitious, who would link her with the life and movement of the outer world, who would be the complement of her own being, was a dream of delight. Not that she felt in the least unable to stand alone, or fancied she was too delicate to take care of herself, but life without the love of another self could never be full and perfect. She was too true a woman not to value deeply the tenderness of a man ; yet she had tirmly resolved in justice to herself, in fairness to any possible husband, to renounce that crown of woman's existence. It was the only atonement she could make. Well, at least her loving care of these dear little boys, who were in point of fact motherless, would in some degree expiate her evil deed, and would keep her heart warm and her mind healthy. Possessed of the true magic, "money," obstacles faded away. The expedition to Sandbourne was most successful. Katherine waa brighter than Miss Payne had ever seen her before. The day was sunny, the place looked cheerful and picturesque. It lay under a wooded hill, ending in a bold rocky point, which sheltered it and a wide bay from the easterly winds. A splendid stretch of golden sands offered a playground for the racing waves, and an okf tower crowned an islet near the opposite point of the land, "which there lay low, and was covered with gorse and heather. There was an objectionable row of lodging-houses, against which must be entered a low, red-brick, ivy -grown inn, old-fashioned, picturesque, and comfortable. One or two villas stood in their own grounds but were occupied, and one, evidently older was shut up. Perhaps because it was inaccessible, perhaps because it had a pleasant outlook across the bay to the island and tower at its western extremity, Katharine at once determined it was the very pin c-: 1 , to suit them, and made her way to the local house agent to see what 162 A CROOKED PATH. could be done toward s^curinsr it. Cliff Cottage was not on his books, said the agent ; but ir the. lady wished "he would apply to the owner, who had gone with his wife in search of health to the Riviera. In the meantime there is Amanda Villa, at the other end of Beach Terrace, very comfortable and elegantly furnished "- pointing to a glaring 1 white edifice with a Belvedere tower in would- be Italian style. "I don't think you could find anything better.' 1 But the aspect of Amanda Villa did not please either lady, so they returned to Cliff Cottage : and remarking a thin curl of blue smoke from one of the chimneys, they ventured to make their way to a side entrance, where their knocking was answered by an old deaf care-taker, who, for a consideration, permitted them "to inspect the house. It proved to be all Katherine wished. Though the furniture was scanty and worn, it was clean and well kept, and "We can easily get what is necessary," she concluded, with the sense of power which always goes with a full purse. "Let us go back to the agent and get the address of the owner." "Better make your offer through him," returned Miss Payne, and Katherine complied. The days which succeeded seemed very long. Katherine had taken a fancy to the quaint pretty abode, and was impatient to be ttled there with her boys. There was a " preparatory school for young gentlemen, " which was an additional attraction to Sandbourne, both children being extremely ignorant even for their tender years ; and Katherine was greatly opposed to Colonel Ormonde's intention of sending Cecil away to a boarding-school. She wished him to have some preliminary training before ne was plunged into the diffi- culties of a large boarding-school. To Colonef Ormonde her will was law, and if only she could get the house she wanted, all would go well. Of course Katherine lost no time in visiting 1 her protegee Eachel. She had written to her during her absence tolet her feel that she was not forgotten ; and the replies were not only well written and ex- pressed, but showed a degree of intelligence above the average. When Katherine entered the room where Eachel sat at work she was touched and delighted at the sudden brightening of Kachel's sunken eyes, the joyous flush that rose to her cheek. " Oh !"'she exclaimed, "I did not expect you so soon. How good of you to come !" She placed a chair, and in reply to Katherine's friendly question, " How have you been going on ? 5 ' Eachel gave an encouraging account of herself. Mrs. Keedham had introduced her to two families, both of whom wished her to work in the house, which, though infinitely disagreeable to her, she did not like to refTise. " Perhaps, " she added, "the counter-irritation was good forme, for I feel more braced up. And of all your many benefits, dear Miss Liddell, nothing has done me so much good as 'the books you sent me, except the sight of yourself. Do not think I am exaggerating, but I am a mere machine, resigned to work because 1 must not die, gave when I see you and speak to you : then I feel I can live that I have something to live for, to sho\v I am not unworthy of your trust A CROOKED PATH. 163 in me. Perhaps time will heal even such wounds as mine. Is it not terrible to try and live without hope?" "But you must hope, Rachel. You are not alone. I feel truly, deeply interested in you ; believe me, I will always be your friend. You are looking batter, but I want to see your eyes less hollow and your mouth less sad. We are both young-, and life has many lights and shades for us both, so far as we can anticipate." A long 1 and confidential conversation ensued, in the course of which Katherine quite forgot there was any difference of position betwivn herself and the humble dressmaker whom her bounty of purse and heart had restored. CHAPTER XVHL "MRS. NEEDHAM." WHEN Katherine returned that afternoon she found Miss Payne was not alone. On the sofa opposite to her sat a lady a large, well- dressed lady with bright black eager eyes, and a high color. She held open on her lap a neat black leather bag, from which she had taken some papers, and was speaking quickly, in loud dictatorial tones, when Katherine came in. " Here is Miss Liddell," said Miss Payne. "Ah ! I am very glad," cried the large lady, starting up and letting the bag fall, much of its contents scattering right and left. "Mrs. Needham, Miss Liddell," said Miss Payne, with the sort of rigid accent which Katherine knew expressed disapproba- tion. "Oh, thank you don't trouble!" exclaimed Mrs. Needham, as Katherine politely bent down to collect the letters, note-book, mem- orandum, etc. ""So sorry ! I am too careless in small matters. Now, my dear Miss Liddell, I must explain myself. Mr. Payne and I are deeply interested in the success of a bazar which l"am trying to organize, and he suggested that I should see you and make our objects thoroughly clear." With much fluency" and distinctness she proceeded to describe the origin and progress of the work she advocate'd, showing the necessity for a new wing to the " Children's Refuge," and entreating Katti- erine's assistance at the bazar. This Katherine gently but firmly declined. "I shall be most happy to send you a check, but more I cannot undertake," she said. "Well, that is very good of you ; and in any case I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance. Mr. Payne has told me how ready you are to help in all charitable undertakings. Now in an ordinary way I don't do much in this line ; my energies have been directed to another channel. I am not what is generally called a religious woman ; I am too broad in my views to please the ortho- dox ; but, at the same time, religion is in our present stage essential." 164 A CROOKED PATH. "I am sure religion is much obliged to you," observed Miss Payne. "How do you and my brother get on?" "Remarkably well. / think him rather a fanatic ; he thinks me a pagan. But we both have common-sense enough to see that each honestly wishes to help suffering 1 humanity, and on that broad plat- form we meet. Mr. Payne tells me you don't know much of London, Miss Liddell. I can help you to see some of its more interesting^ sides. I shall be most happy, though I am a very busy woman. I am a journalist, and my time is not my own." "Indeed?" cried Katherine. "You mean you write for news- papers?" "Yes ; that is, I get what crumbs fall from the pressmen's table. They get the best work and the best pay ; but I can work as well as most of them, and sometimes mine goes in in place of what some idle, pleasure-loving scamp has neglected. Let me see" pulling out her watch " five minutes to four. I must not stay. I have to look in at Mrs. Rayner's studio ; she has a reception, and will want a mention of it. 'Then there are Sir Charles Goodman's training schools for deaf-mutes and the new Art Photography Company's rooms to run through before I go to the House of Commons to do my 'Bird's-eye View' letter for the Australian mail to-morrow." "My dear Mrs Need ham, you take my bivath away!" exclaimed Katherine. " I am sure you could sliow m3 more of London I mean what I should like to see than any one eise." "Very well. Let me know when you come back to town, 1 and fou shall hear a debate if you like. I am not a society woman, but have the entree to most places. Now good-morning good-morning. You see your agreeable conversation has made me forget the time." And shaking hands cordially, she hastened away. " Our agreeable conversation," repeated Miss Payne, with a some- what cynical accent. " I wonder how many words you and I uttered ! Why she makes me stupid. Really Gilbert ought not to inflict such a tornado on us." " I like her," said Katherine ; " there is something kind and true about her. I should like to see some of the places she goes to and the work she does. She seems happv enough, too. I must not forget to write to her and send that check I promised." "Hem ! If you give right and left you'll not have much left for yourself," growled Miss Payne. Katherine laughed. "Oh, by-the-way," resumed her chaperon, "I forgot to tell you that Colonel Ormonde arrived, shortly after you went out, with a large basket of flowers. He was vexed at missing you. He came up 'about some business, and wanted to take you to" see some one. However, he could not come back. I can't say that I think he is well mannered. He was quite rough and brusqiie, and asked Avith puch an ill-bred sneer if you were off on any private business with jmv brother." "I can't help thinking that he was annoyed because I appointed, flffr. Payne co-trustee with Mr. Newton to my deed of gift," said Katherine, thoughtfully. "But I know I could not have chosen a Ittei man." "Well, I believe so," returned his sister, graciously, "He is * ing to dinner, so you can give him your check." A CROOKED PATH. 165 It was a great day for Cis and Charlie when they arrived iti London to stay with "auntie," who was at the station to receive aod convey them to Wilton Street. Charlie still looked pale and thin enough to warrant a general treatment of cuddling- and coddling- calculated to satisfy any affec- tionate young- woman's heart. They were to sleep at Miss I'ayne'g residence, in order to be rested and fresh for their journey to th sea- side next day. Miss Payne herself was unusually amiable, for she had let h*r house satisfactorily for the greater part of the season, and this as Katherine paid for the Sandbourne villa, was clear gain. When the boys and their auntie drove up to Miss Payne's abode she was a good "deal annoyed to find De Burgh at the door in the act of leaving a card. He hastened to hand her out of the carriage, ex- claiming : "This is the first bit of luck I have had for weeks. You always manage to be out when I call. Come along, my boys. What lucky little fellows you are to come to town for the season !" "Ah, but we are not going to stay in town. We are going to the sea-side to bathe, and to sail in boats, and " "Run in, Charlie, like a good boy," interrupted Katherine. " Your tea will be quite ready." " I suppose you will think me horribly intrusive if I ask you to let me come in ?" said De Burgh. There was something' unusually earnest in his tone. "Oh, not at all," returned Katherine, politely, though she would have much preferred bidding him good-morning. " Here, Sarah, pray take the boys to fcheir room and get their things off. I am sure they want their tea." Miss Payne's sedate elderly house-maid looked quite elated as she took Charlie's hand and, preceded by Cecil, led him upstairs. " Are you really ' out ' when I come ?" asked De Burgh when they reached the drawing-room. Katherine took off her hat and pushed her hair off her brow as she seated herself in a low chair. "Yes, 1 think so. I do not usually deny myself to any visitor." She looked up, half amused, half interested, by the almost" imploring 1 expression of his usually hard face. "I rather suspect I am not a favored guest ?" "Why do you say that, Mr. De Burgh? am I uncivil?" ' "No. Wnata fool I am making of myself! Tell me, are you reallv going away to-morrow to bury yourself alive?" "I am retillu." " After all, I believe you are right. I am always bored in Lea-) don. Women think it a paradise." " I like London so well that I shall probably make it my head-j quarters." " It's rather premature for you to make plans, isn't it : "Whether it is or not, I have arranged my future raefc ftp My] own satisfaction." " The deuce you have ! What, at nineteen?" " Is that an attempt to find out my age?" asked KatheriM, ing:. 166 A CROOKED PATH. "No ; for I fancy I know it. How far is this place you are going 1 to from town, and how do you get to it ?" "The jouruey takes about three hours and a half, and you travel by the Southwestern line." " Well, I intend to have the pleasure of running- down to see you presently, if you will permit ma." " Oh, of course, we shall be very happy to see you." "I hope so," said De Burgh, wi'th a smile. "I don't think you are very encouraging. If there are any decent roads about this place, shall we resume the driving lessons ?" "Thank you" evasively. "I think of buying a donkey and chaise certainly a pony for the boys.'' De Burgh laughed. "I suppose 'there is some boating to be had there. I shall certainly have a look at the place, even if I be not admitted to the shrine." There was a pause, during- which De Burgh seemed in profound but not agreeable thought ; then he sud- denly exclaimed: "By-the-way, have you heard the news? Old Errington died, rather sudden at last, some time last night." ' ' Indeed !" cried Katherine, roused to immediate attention. " I am very sorry to hear it. The marriage will then be put off. You know they were going to have it nearly a month sooner than was at first intended, because Mr. Errington feared the end was near. He was with his father, I hope?" ' Yes, 1 believe he hardly left him for the last few days. Now the wedding cannot take place for a considerable time." "It will be a great disappointment," observed Katherine. " To which of the happy pair?" "To both, I suppose," she returned. " Do you think they cared a rap about each other?" " Yes, I do indeed. Every one has a different way of showing their feelings, and Mr. Errington is nuite different from you." " Different and immensely superior, eh?" "I did not say so, Mr. De Burgh." "No, certainly you did not, and I have no right to guess at what you think. You are right. I am very different from Errington ; and i;ou are very different from Lady Alice. I fancy, were you in her place, even the irreproachable bridegroom -elect would find he had a little more of our common humanity about him than he sus- pects," said De Burgh, his dark eyes seeking hers with a bold ad- miring glance. Katherine's cheek glowed, her heart beat fast with sudden distress and anger. De Burgh's suggestion stirred some strange and pain- ful emotion. "Youai-ein a remarkably imaginative mood, Mr. Da Burgh," she said, haughtily. "I cannot see any connection between myself and your ideas." " Can't you? Well, my ideas gather round yoii very often." " I wish" he would go away ; he is too audacious," thotight Kath- erine. While she said, " I think Mr. Errington will be sorry for his father ; I believe he has good feeling, though he is so cold and quiet.' "Oh, he has every virtue under the sun ! At any rate he ought A CROOKED PATH. 167 to be fond of him, for I fancy the old man has toiled all his life to be able to leave his son a big- fortune." " Has ho no brothers or sisters?" " Two sisters, I believe, older than himself ; both married." Thare was another pause. Katharine would not break it. She felt peculiarly irritated against De Burgh. His observations had greatly disturbed her. She could not, however, tell him to go, ami ho stood there looking perfectly at ease. This awkward silence was broken by the welcome appearance of Cecil, who burst into the room, exclaiming: "Auntie, tea is quite ready! There is beautiful chicken pie and buttered cakes, and such a beautiful cat ! " What ! for tea, Cis?" said Katharine, letting him catch her hand and try to drag her away. " No o. Why, what a silly you are ! Puss is asleep in an arm- chair. Do come, auntie. The laJy said I was tell you that tea was aiiite ready." " Which means that the audience is over," said De Burgh ; " and I rather think you are not sorry.'' He smiled not a pleasant smile. " Wei!, young man, did you never see me before ?" to Cecil, who was staring at him in tlia deliberate, persistent way in which child- ren gaze at objects which fascinate yet partly frighten them. " i was thinking you were like' The little fellow paused. " Like whom ?" Cis tightened his hold on his auntie's hand, and still hesitated. ' Whom is Mr. De Burgh like."" asked Katherine, amused by the boy's earnestness. " Like the wicked uncle in the 'Babes in the Wood.' Auntie gave it to me. Such a beautiful picture book !" De Burgh laughed heartily and good-humoi-edly. "lean tell you, mv boy, you would not find me a bad sort of uncle if it were ever my good 'fortune to call you nephew." " But I have no uncle only auntie,'' returned Cis. " Ay, a very pearl of an auntie. Try and be a good boy. Above all, do what you are bid. I never did what I was bid, and you see what I have come to." "I don't think there is much the matter with you," said Cis, eying him steadily. Then, with a sudden change in the current of his thoughts, he cried, " Do come, auntie ; thi cakes will be quite cold. :I " I will keep you no longer from the banquet," said De Burgh. " I know you are wishing me at well, my probable destination ; so good by for the present.* Then, to Cecil : " Shall I come and see you at what is the name of the place ? Sandbourne, and take you out for a sail in a boat a big boat?" " Oh, yes, please." " AVil! y >u come with me, though I am like the wicked uncle ?" " Yv-s, If auntie may corne too." " L" sh , bogs very hard she may. Well, good-morning, Miss Lid- dell. I'll not forget Sandbourne, rift Southwestern Railway." So saying, Do Burgh shook har.cls and departed. The next day Miss Payne escorted her suddenly increased party to their marine retreat, returning the following afternoon to attend to the details of letting her house, for which she had had a good otfer. 168 A CROOKED PATH. Then came a breathing- space of welcome repose to Katherr -p.. The interest nay, the trouble of the children drew her out of her- self, and dwarfed the past with the more urgent demands of the pre- sent. Cliff Cottage was a pretty, pleasant abode. The living- rooms, which Avere of a good size, two "of them opening with bay-windows on the pleasure-ground which surrounded the house on three sides, were, with the bedrooms over them, additions to a very small abode. These Katherine succeeded in making pretty and comfortable. To wake in the morning- and hear the pleasant murmur of the; waves ; to open her window to the soft sweet briny air, and look out on tho waters glittering in the early golden light ; to listen to the laughter and .shrill cries of Cis and Charlie chasing- each other in the garden, and feel that they were her charge all this contributed to restore her to a healthy" state of mind, to strengthen and to cheer her. Cecil, to his "dismay at first, was dispatched every morning to school, where he soon made friends and began to"feel at home. Chftrlie Katherine taught herself, as he was still delicate. Then a a pony was added to the establishment, and old Francois, ex -courier and factotum, used to take the young gentlemen for long excursions each riding turn about on the quiet, sensible little Shetland. The pale cheeks which helped to make Charlie so dear to his aunt began to show something of a healthy color before the end of May, and Katherine sometimes laughed to' tind herself boasting of Cecil 8 parts and progress to Miss Payne. But the metamorphosis wrought by the young' magicians in this important personage was the m.ist remarkable of the effects they produced. Had MissLiddell been less pleasant and profitable, it is doubtful if Miss Payne would have con- sented to allow children boys to desecrate theprecincts of her spot- less dwelling ; they were in her estimation extremely objectionable. Katherine was, however, a prime favorite ; she had touched Miss Payne as none of her former inmates ever did. Years of battling with the. world had coated her heart with a tolerably hard husk ; but there was a heart beneath the stony sheath, and by "some occult sympathy Katherine had pierced to the hidden fount of feeling, and her chaperon found there was more flavor and warmth in life than she once thought. When, therefore, she had completed her business in London and was settled at Cliff Cottage, she was surprised to iind that the boys did not worry her ; nay, when they came racing to meet her in wild delight to show a tangled dripping mass of shells and sea-weod which they had collected in their wading, scrambling wanderings on the shore and among the rocks, she found herself unbending 1 , almost involuntarily, and examining their treasures with unfeigned interest. Then Cecil's very fluent descriptions of his experiences at school, his escapades, his torn g-arments. the occasional quarrels be- tween the two boys, their appropriation of Francois, and their breakages all seemed to grow natural and pardonable when the young culprits ran to take her by the hand, and looked in her face with their innocent, trusting eyes. On the whole, Miss Payne had never boen so happy before, and Katherine forgot the shifting sands or which she was uprearing the g-raceful fabric of her tran- quil life. Somottinee they lured Bertie to spend a couple of days with them A CROOKED PATa 169 days which were always marked with a white stone. What argu- ments and rambles Katharine enjoyed with him, and what goodly checks she drew to further his numerous undertakings ! De Burgh cli;l not fail to carry out his threat of inspecting Sand- bourne. He founrl a valid excuse in a commission from Colonel Ormonde to ah- is ) ,!iss Liddell respecting a pair of ponies she had asked him to buy for h.sr. His visit wa* not altogether displeasing. No woman in quite indifferent to a man who admires her in tli3 hearty, wholesale way which De Burgh did not try to conceal. Katharine was much too feminine not to like the incense of his devotion, especially when he kept it within certain limits. She did not credit him with any deep feeling ; but in spite of her strong conviction that he was attracted by her money, she recognized a certain sincerity in his liking for herself. She enjoyed the idea of humbling his immense assurance, believing that any pain she might inflict would be short-lived, while he was amazed to find how swiftly th:>, hours flew past when he al- lowed himself to sp^nd a couple 'of days at Sand bourne surprised to feel so little of tire contemptuous bitterness with which he gener- ally regarded his fellow-creatures, and sometimes wondered if it were possible that something more simple than even his boyish self had come back to him. Still, Bertie Payne was a more welcome guest than De Burgh, in spite of his unspoken but evident devotion. With Bertie she could speak openly of matters on which she would not touch when with the other. To Bertie she could talk of the mysteries of life, and argue on questions of belief. She was touched by the eagerness he showed to convert her to his own extremely evangelical views, and though differing from him on many points, "she deeply respected the sincerity of his convictions. The degree of favor shown by her to "that psalm -singing Puri- tan," as De Burgh termed him, was gall and wormwood to the latter, and indeed so irritated his spirit that he was driven to speak of the annoyance it caused him to Mrs. Ormonde, of whose discretion and judgment he had but a poor opinion. Meantime no one heard or saw anything of Errington, who was supposed to be deep in the settlement of his father's affairs, and winding up the estate, as the well-known house of Errington ceased to exist when the head and founder was no more. Lady Alice had gone to stay with her brother and sister-in-law, who lived abroad, as it was impossible for her to enter into the gayeties of the season under existing; circumstances, and the marriage was postponed un- til the end of July. In short, a lull had stilled the actors in this little drama. The stream of events had entered one of the quiet pools which here and there hold the most rapid current tranquil for a time. With Mrs. Ormonde all went well. She had the newest and most charming gowns and bonnets, mantles and hats. She found herself very well received by society, ami quite a favorite with Lady Mary Vincent, who was a Very popular person. So much occupied was the pretty little woman that May was nearly over before she could find time to accept her sister-in-law's repeated invitation to Cliff Cottage. 170 A CROOKED PATH. "I am going- down to Sandbourne on Friday," she said to De Burgh one evening as she was waiting for her carriage after a musical party at Lady Mary Vincent's. " Indeed ! I thought you were oing last Monday." " Oh, I could not go on Monday. But if I don't go on Friday I do not think I shall manage my visit at all. Tell me, what does Katherine find to keep her down there ? Is it Bertie Payne ?" ' ' How can I tell ? She seems contented enough. For 'that matter, she might lind my society equally attractive. Payne does not go down as often as 1 do." " No ? but then Katherine has a leaning to sanctity, and you are no saint." " True. By-the-way, talking of saints, there is a report that old Errington's affairs were not left in as flourishing a condition as was expected." "Oh, nonsense ! It is some mere ill-natured gossip." "I hope so. I think I will come down on Saturday and escort you back to town." "Pray do; it will enliven us a little." A shout of "Mrs. Or- monde's carriage !" cut short the conversation, and Mrs. Ormonde did not see De Burgh again until they met at Cliff Cottage. Mrs. Ormonde's visit, long anticipated, did not prove an unmixed pleasure. She objected to what she considered the terribly long drive of some five miles from the railway starion to Katherine's secluded residence ; she turned tip her pretty little nose at the small- ness of the cottage and its general homeline'ss ; she evinced an un- friendly spirit toward Miss Payne, who was perfectly unmoved thereby ; and when the boys, well washed and spruced up, ap- proached her, not too eagerly, she scarcely noticed them. This, of course, reacted on the little fellows, who showed a decided inclina- tion to avoid her. She was tired after a warm journey and previous late hours, and dreadfully afraid that sea air and sun togetlier would have a ruinous effect on her complexion. When, however, she had had tea and made a fresh toilette, she took a less gloomy view of life at Sand- bourne, and having recovered her temper, she remembered it would be wiser not to chafe her sister-in-law. "To be sure," thought the astute little woman, " the boys' settle- ment is out of her power to revoke ; but it would be rather good if she came to live with us, instead of filling the pockets of this prim, presumptuous, self-satisfied old maid. I am sure she is awfully sel- fish, and I do hate selfishness." So reflecting, she descended serene and smiling. Half an hour after, she had so completely recovered herself as to declare she had never seen the boys look so well, that they were quite grown, etc., etc. After dinner Cecil displayed his exercise and copy books, and re- ceived a due meed of praise, not unmixed with a little sarcastic re- mark or two respecting the wonderful effect of his aunt's influence, which did noc escape the notice of her son, who felt, though he did not understand why, that she was not quite so well pleased as she tffected to be. A CROOKED PATH. 171 " And don't you feel dreadfully dull here?" asked Mrs. Ormonde, as the sisters-in-law strolled along- the beach under the shelter of the east cliff, which hid them from te bright morning sunlight. " No, not as yet. I should not like to live here always ; but at present I like the place. You must confess it is very pretty." " Yes, just now, when the weather is fine. When you have rain and a gale, it must be fearfully dreary." " We have had some rough days, but the bay has a beauty of its own even in a storm, and we shall not be here in the winter." " De Burgh runs down to see you pretty often ?" asked Mrs. Or- monde, after a short pause. The old regimental habit of calling- men by their surnames still returned when she was off guard. " Yes," replied Katherine, calmly ; "he seems to enjoy a day by the sea-side." Mrs. Ormonde laughed a hard laugh. "I dare say you enjoy it too." ' ' Mr. De Burgh is not particularly sympathetic to me, but I like him better than I did." 44 Oh, I dare say he makes himself very pleasant to you, and I never knew him show attention to an unmarried woman before, nor to many married women eitlior. Of course it would be absurd to suppose that if you had not a good fortune you would see quite so much of him." "Naturally, "returned Katherine. 4 'I fancy my money would be of great use to him ; so it would to most men! That does not affect me. If it is an incentive to make them agreeable and useful, why, so be it." 44 1 did not expect to hear you talk like that. Now I hate and despise mercenary men," 44 Well, you see, the man or the woman must have money or there can be no marriage. '' " How worldly you have grown, Kate !" cried Mrs. Ormonde, in a superior tone. She did not perceive anything but sober seriousness in Iv.-r sister-in-law's tone, and was infinitely annoyed at her taking the insinuations against De Burgh's disinterestedness with such in- difference. "I suppose you think it would be a very fine thing to be Baroness De Burgh, and go to court with all the family jewels on." 44 1 shall certainly not go as Katherine Liddell." <4 Prav, why not ? Ah, yes ; it would all be very fine ! But I am too deeply interested in you, dear, not to warn you that De Burgh would make a very bad' husband ; he has such a horrid, sneering way sometimes ; and as to being faithful constancy is a thing un- known to him." 4 'What would Colonel Ormonde say if he knew you gave his favorite kinsman so bad a character?" 44 Oh, my dear Katherine. you must not betray me ! Duke would be furious. But of course your happiness is my first consideration." "Thank you," returned Katherine, gravely. 41 And Mi 1 . Payne, how does he like Mr. De Burgh's visits here ?* "I don't think he minds" seriously. 44 I should be sorry if ha were annoyed. I am very fond of Bertie Payae." 172 A CROOKED PATH. This declaration somewhat bewildered Mrs. Ormonde. But before she could find suitable words to reply, Charlie came running to meet them, jumping up to kiss his aunt first, and cried ; " Mr. De Burgh has come. I saw him driving up to the hotel outside the omlibus." "The omnibus !" repeated Mrs. Ormonde. " He would find no other conveyance from the train unless he ordered one previously," said Katharine, laughing. "Dear me! I suppose he will be here directly. How early he must have started !" in a tone of annoyance. " I feel so hot and un- comfortable after this dreadfully long walk, I must change my dress before I see any one." And she hastened on. After holding his aunt's hand for a while, Charlie darted away to overtake Francois, whom he perceived at a little distance. U I declare, Katherine, you are quite supplanting me with those boys!" exclaimed their mother, querulously. " Ada, I would not for the world wean them from you, if I mean " stopping the words which rushed to her lips, "f should be sorry. But you have new ties another boy. Could you not spare Cis and Charlie to me for I have no one?" " I am sure that is your own fault. However, if after three or four months' experience you are not tired of them, I shall be very much surprised." On reaching the house, Mrs. Ormonde went straight to her own apartment to " refit," and Katherine sat down in the smaller draw- ing or morning room, which looked west and was cool. She had not been there many minutes before De Burgh was announced. "Alone!" he exclaimed. " Where is Mrs. Ormonde?" "She will be here immediately/' "Has she persuaded you to return with her? I wish you would. Lady G gives a dinner at Richmond on Thursday ; it will be rather amusing. I know most of the fellows who are going, and I think you would enjoy it. You like good talkers, I know." " Thank you ; I have refused." "Absolutely?" "Absolutely." De Burgh came over and leaned his shoulder against the side of the window opposite to where Katherine sat. "What are you thinking of, if I may ask, Miss Liddell?" he said. " You have scarcely heard what I said. They are not pleas- ant thoughts, I fancy." " No," she returned, glad to put them into words that she might exorcise them. " Ada has just reproached me with supplanting her with her boys, and it made me feel, as Americans sav 'bad.'" "Why?" he asked. " Why should you not? I would lay long odds that you love tlr j m more than she does. You are more' a real mother to them: Why are you always straining at ernats ? You really lose a lot of tim'j, which might be more agreeably occupied, worrying over the rights and wrongs of things. Follow my ex- ample : go straight ahead for whatever you desire, provided it's not robbery, and let things balance themselves'' A CROOKED PATH. 173 " Has that system made you supremely happy ?" "Happy ! Oh, that is a big word. "I have had some splendid spurts of enjoyment ; and now I have an object to win. It will give me a lot of trouble ; it's the heaviest stake I ever played for ; but it will go hard with me if I don't succeed." De Burgh had been looking out at the stretch of water before him as he spoke, but at his last words his eves sought Katharine's with a look she could not misunderstand. She shivered slightly, an odd passing sense of fear chilling her for a moment as she turned to lay her hat upon the table near, saying, in a cold, collected tone. "You must always remember that the firmest resolution cannot insure success." " It goes a long way toward it, however," he replied. "Ah, there is Cis !" cried Katherine, glad to turn the conversa- tion, " come back from school. Are you not earlier than usual, Cis?" as the boy came bounding over the grass to the open window. "No, auntie ; it is one o'clock." " Well, young man," said Da Burgh, who was not sorry to be in- terrupted, as he felt he was tr>ndiiig dangerous ground, and with instinctive tact endeavored always to keep friends with Katherine's pets, "I have brought you a present, if auntie will allow you to keep it." " What is it? a box of tools, real tools? I do so want a box of tools ! But auntie is afraid I will cut myself." " No ; it's a St. Bernard puppy that promises to turn out a fine dog." "Oh, thank you ! thank you ! that is nice. I don't think you are a bit like the wicked uncle now. May I go and fetch it now, this moment ?" "Not till after dinner, dear." " Oh, isn't it jolly ! A real St. Bernard dog!" capering about. " You are. a nice man !'' " What are you making such a noise for, Cis ?" exclaimed his mother coming' in, looking admirably well, fresh, becomingly dress- ed. " Go away, dear, and be made tidy for your dinner. Well, Mr. De Burgh,' I never dreamed of your arriving so early. Did you get up in the middle of the night?" " Not exactly. The fact is, I must drive over to Revelstoke late this evening and catch the mail train. I have a command to dine with the Baron to-morrow, to talk over some business of importance, and dared not refuse, as you can imagine. The everlasting old tyrant has been quite amiable to me of late." " Then you'll not be here to escort me back to town, and I hate travelling' alone !" cried Mrs. Ormonde. "Unfortunately no," said De Burgh. "But I have a piece of news for you that will freeze the marrow in your bones : Errington is completely ruined." "Impossible !" cried both his hearers at once. "It's too true, I assure you. When, after the old man's death, he began to look into things with his solicitor, he was startled to find certain deficiencies. Then the head clerk, the manager, who had 174 A CROOKED PATH. everything in his hands bossed the show, in short disappeared, and on further examination it proved that the whole concern was a mere shell, out of which this scoundrel had sucked the capital. There was an awful amount of debt to other houses, several of which would have come down, and ruined thft unfortunates connected with them, if Erring-ton had not come forward and sacrificed almost all he possessed to retrieve the credit of his name. He says he ought to have undertaken the risks as well as reaped the profit of the concern. Garston Hall is advertised for sale ; so is the house in Berkley Square ; his stud is brought to the hammer everything is given up. What he'll do I haven't an idea. But I must say I think his sense of honor is a little overstrained." "And Lady Alice !" ejaculated Katherine. " Of course Melford will soon settle that, if it is not settled already, for a good deal was done before the matter got wind. There hasn t been such a crash for a long time. In short, Errington is utterly, completely ruined." " I never heard of such a fool!" cried Mrs. Ormonde. "It was bad enough to be disappointed of the wealth old Errington was sup- posed to have left behind him, but to give up everything ! Why, he is only tit for a lunatic asylum. What an awful'disappointment for poor Lady Alice !" Katherine did not, could not speak. The rush of sorrow for the heavy blow which had fallen on the man she had robbed, the shame and self-reproach, which had been lulled asleep for a while, which now woke up with renewed power to torment and irritate these were too much for her self-control, and while Mrs. Ormonde and De Burgh eagerly discussed the catastrophe, she kept silence and struggled to be composed. CHAPTER XIX. CONFESSION. " ERRINGTON is completely ruined !" De Burgh's words repeated themselves over and over again in Katherine's ears through the darkness and silence of her sleepless night. What would become of him that grave, stately man who had never known the touch of anything common or unclean? How would he live? And what an additional blow the rupture of his engagement with Lady Alice ! He was certainly very fond of her. It was like him to give up all he possessed to save the honor of his name, but how would it be if he were penniless ? Had ft he not robbed him, he might have enough to live comfortably after satisfying every one. As she thought, a resolution to restore what she had taken formed itself in her mind. Perhaps if he could show that he had still a solid capital, his en- gagement to Lady Alice need not be broken off. If she could re- store him to competence, he would not refuse some provision for the poor dear boys. Were she secure on this point, she would be happier without the money than with it. But the humiliation of A CROOKED PATH. 175 confession and to such a father confessor ! How could she do it? Yet it must be done. "Good gracious, Katherine, you look like a ghost!" was Mrs. Ormonde's salutation when the little party met at breakfast next morning". "Pray have you seen one?" "Yes; I have 'been surrounded by a whole g-allery of ghosts all night which means that a bad conscience would not let me sleep." "What nonsense ! Why, you are a perfect saint, Kate, in some ways ; but in others I must say you are foolish ; yes, dear, I must say it very foolish." " I dare say lam," returned Katherine ; "but whether I am or not, 1 have an intense headache, so you must excuse me if I am very stupid." " I am sure you want change, Katherine. Do come back with me to town. There is quite time enough to put up all you want before 11, and the train goes at 11.10. There is a little dance, ' small and early,' at Lady Mary Vincent's this evening, and I know she would be delighted to see you." " I do not think hot rooms the best cure for a headache," observed Miss Payne; "aid till yesterday Katherine had been looking remarkably well. She was out boating too long in the sun." "You are very good to trouble about me, Ada. My best cure is quiet. I will go and lie down as soon as I see you ofr, and I dare say shall be myself again in the evening. I may come up to town for a day or two before you return to Castleford, but I will let you know.*'" Nothing more was said on the subject then, but when Katherino returned from the station after bidding her sister-in-law good-by, Miss Payne met her with a strong recommendation to take some "sal volatile and water, and to lie down at once." " I did not, of course, second Mrs. Ormonde's suggestions the idea of your going for rest or health to her house .'but I am really vexed to see vou look so ill. How do you feel ?" " Very well disposed to follow your good advice. If I could get some sleep, I should be quite welf." Katherine smiled pleasantly as she spoke. She was extremely thankful to secure an hour or two of silence and solitude. During the night her heart, her brain, were in such a tumult she could not think consecutively. Alone in her room, and grown calmer, she could plan her future proceedings and screw her courage to the desperate sticking -point of action such as her conscience dic- tated. She fastened her door and set her window wide open. After gaz- ing for some time at the sea, golden and glittering in the noonday sun. anl inhaling the soft breeze which came in laden with briny freshu *>. sh , lay down and closed her eyes. But though keepim* profoun li ,' still, no restful look of sleep stole over her set face ; no^ she was thinking hard, for how long she could not tell. Whc^n, however, sha came down-stairs to join Miss Payne at tea, the anxious, nervous, alarmed expression of her eyes had changed to one of gloomy composure. "Though I do not care to stay with Ada, I want to go to town to- 176 A CROOKED morrow for a little shopping, and to see Mr. Newton if I can. I will take the quick train at half -past eight and return in the evening. You might send to meet the nine o'clock express. Should anything occur to keep me, I will telegraph." " Very well "Miss Payne's usual reply to Katherine's proposi- tions. "But are you quite sure you feel equal to the journey ;"' "Yes, quite equal," returned Katherine, with a short deep sigh. "I believe it will do me good." That Errington had been stunned by the blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him cannot be disputed. His first and bitterest con- corn was dread lest the character of his father's house, which had always stood so high, lest the honor of his own name, should suffer thesm.llest tarnish. It was this that made him so eager to ascer- tain the full liabilities of the h'rm, so ready to sacrifice all he pos- sessed so that no one save himself should be the loser. " If I accept- ed a handsome fortune from transactions over which I exercised no supervision, I must hold myself doubly responsible for the result," he argued, and at once set to work to turn all he possessed into money. In truth^the prospect of poverty did not dismay him. His tastes were very simple. It was the loss* of power and posi- tion, which wealth always bestows, which he would feel most, and the necessity of renouncing Lady Alice. This was imperative. Yet it surprised him to perceive how little he felt the prospect of parting with her on his own account. Indeed he was rather ashamed of his indifference. It was for Lady Alice he felt. It would be such a terrible disappointment ib/t that Erring- ton had much personal vanity. He hoped and thuit^ht Ladv Alice Mordaunt liked him in a calm and reasonable manner, which is the best guarantee for married happiness. But it was the loss of a tran- quil home, a luxurious life, an escape from the genteel poverty of a deeply embarrassed earl's daughter to the ease and comfort of a rich man's wife, that he deplored for her. Poor helpless child ! she weild probably find a rich husband ere long who would give her all pos- sible luxuries, for a noble's daughter of high degree is generally a marketable article. But he, Miles Errington, would have been kind and patient. Would that other possible fellow be kind and patient too? Knowing his own sex, Errington doubted it. He had a cer- tain amount of the generosity which belongs to strength. To chil- dren, and the kind of pretty, undecided women who rank as children, he was wonderfully considerate. But it was quite possible that wore he married to a sensible, companionable wife he might be exacting. At present it seemed highly improbable that he should ever reach a position which would enable him to commit matrimony. Thirty- four is rather an advanced age at which to begin life afresh. The prospect of bachelorhood, however, by no means dismayed him. Indeed it was more a sense of his social duties as a man of fortune and a future senator that had impelled him to seek a wife, not an irresistible desire for the companionship of a ministering spirit. He was truly thankful that his marriage had been delayed, A CROOKED PATH. 177 and that he was not hampered by any sense of duty toward a wife in his design of sacrificing 1 his all to save his credit. After the first few days of stunning surprise, Errington set vig- orously to work to clear the wreck. Garston was advertised ; hia stud, his furniture everything put up for sale, and his own days divided between his solicitor and his stock-broker. His first step was to explain matters to his intended father-in-law, who, bing an impulsive, self-indulgent man, swore a good d^a.\ about the ill-luck of all concerned, but at once declared the engagement must be at an end. As Lady Alice was still in Switzerland with her brother and his wife, it was considered wise to spare her the pain of an interview. Lord Melford explained matters to his daughter in an extremely out- spoken letter, enclosing- one from Errington, in which, with much good feeling, he bade her a kindly farewell. To this she replied promptly, and a week saw the extinction of the whole affair. Errington could not help smiling at this "rapid act." It was then about three weeks after the blow had fallen a warm glowing June morning. Errington's man of business had just left him, and he had returned to his writing-table, which was strewn, or rather covered, with papers (nothing Errington ever handled was " strewn"), and continued his task of making out a list of his private liabilities, which were comparatively light, when his valet not yet discharged, though already warned to look for another master approached, with his usually impassive countenance, and presented a small note. Errington opened it, and to his inexpressible surprise read as follows : "To Ma. ERRINGTON, Allow me to speak to you alone. " KATHERINE LIDDELL." " Who brought this?" asked Errington, suppressing all expression as well as he could. " A young person in black, sir least ways I think she's 3'oung. 1 ' "Show her in ; and, Harris, I am engaged if any one calls." Errington went to the door to meet nis most unexpected visitor. The next moment she stood before him. He bowed with much deference. She bent her head in silence, but did not offer to shake hands. She wore a black dress and a very simple black straw hat, round which a white gauze veil was tied, which effectually concealed her face. "Pray sit down," was all Errington could think of saying, so astonished was he at her sudden appearance. {Catherine took a seat opposite to his. She unfastened and took off her veil, displaying a face from which her usual rich soft color had faded, sombre eyes, and tremulous lips. Looking full at him, she said, without greeting of any kind, " Do you think me mad to come here ?" " I am a little surprised ; but if I can be of any use " Errington began calmly. She interrupted him. "I hope to be of use to you. JNo one except myself can explain how or why ; that is the reason I have intruded upon you," 1Y8 A CROOKED PATH. "You do not in'rud >, Miss Liddell. I am quite at your service ; only I hope you ;uv not distressing yourself on my account." '"On yours aid r.iy ovn." Her eyes sank, and her hands played nerVously with iln: handle of a small dainty leather bag she carried, as she paused. Then, looking- up steadily, and speaking in a mono- tonous tone, as if she were repeating 1 a lesson, with parched lips sho went on : "I did you a great wrong some years ago. I was sorry, but I had not the courage to atone until I learned (only yesterday) that you had lost, or rather given up, your fortune, and that your engagement might be broken off. (/ nist speak of these thing*. You will forgive me before I come to an end.) Then I felt some- thing stronger than myself that forced me to tell you all." Her heart beat so hard that her voice could not be steadied. She stopped to breathe. " I fear you are exciting yourself needlessly," said Errington, quite bewildered, and almost fearing that his visitor's brain was affected. "Oh, listen ! do listen ! My uncle, John Liddell, your father's old friend, left all his money toyou. Ihidthe will, and succeeded as next of kin. The property amounts to somcthingmore than eighty thousand pounds, and I have not spant half the income, so there are some savings besides. Can you not live comfortably on that, and marry Lady Alice?" Errington gazed at her for a moment speechless. A sigh of relief broke from Katherine. The color rose to ner cheeks, her throat, her small white ears, and then slowly faded. "I can hardly understand you, Miss Liddell. I fear you are under the effect of some nervous hallucination." "I am not. I can prove I am not." She drew forth the packet inscribed "MS. to be destroyed," and laid it before him. "There is the will. Thank God I never could bring myself to destroy it. Here, pray read it." She opened the document "and handed it to him. There were a few moments' dead silence while Errington hastily skimmed the will. "I am most reluctantly obliged to believe you,"" he said at length. "But what an extraordinary circumstance! How" looking earnestly at her "how did it ever occur to you to -to-" " To commit a felony?" put in Katherine. as he paused. "No ; I was not going to use such a word," he said, gravely, but not unkindly. "If you have time to listen I will tell you everything. Now that I have told the ugly secret that has made a discord in my life, I can speak more easily." But her sweet mouth still quivered. ' " Yes, tell me all," said Errington, more eagerly than perhaps he had ever spoken before. In a low but more composed voice Katherine gave a rapid account of the circumstances which led to her residence with her uncle : of her intense desire to help the dear mother whose burden was almost more than she could bear ; then of the change which came to the old miser his increasing interest in herself, and finally of his express *J intention to change his will as she hoped, in her favor ; of herleuv- A CROOKED PATH. ing it, by his direction, in the writing-table drawer ; of his terribly sudden death. Then came the great temptation. "When Mr. Newton said that if the will existed it would be in tbe bureau, b\it that as he had been on the point of making another, so he (Mr. Newton) hoped he had destroyed the last," continued Katherine, " a thought darted through my brain. Why should it be found ? He no longer wished its provisions to be carried out. I should not, in destroying or sup- pressing it, defeat the wishes of the dead. I determined, if Mr. New- ton asked me a direct question, I would tell him the truth ; if not, I would simply be silent. In short, I mentally tossed for the guidance of my conduct. Silence won. Mr. Newton asked nothing : he was too glad that everything was mine. He has been very, very good to me. I imagined that half my uncle's money would go "to my brother's children, but it did not"; so when I came of age I settled a third upon them. Of course the deed of gift is now but so much waste paper, and for them I would earnestly implore you to spare a little yearly allowance for education, to prepare them to earn their own bread. I feel sure you will do this, and I do deeply dread their being thrown on Colonel Ormonde's charity ; their lot would be very miserable. My poor little boys !" Her voice broke, and she stopped abruptly. Errin'gton's eyes dwelt upon her, almost sternly, with the deepest attention, while she spoke. Nor did he break silence at once ; he leaned back in his chair, resting one closed hand on the table before him. At last he exclaimed : "I wish you had not told me this! I could not have imagined you capable of such an act." ' 'And more," said Katherine ; "although I wish to make what reparation I can, had that act to be done again even with the an- ticipation of this bitter hour I'd do it." She looked straight into Errington's eyes, her own aflame with sudden passion. He was silent, his brow slightly knit, a puzzled expression in his face. The natural motion of his mind was to condemn severely such a lawless sentiment, yet he could not re- sist thinking of those brilliant speaking eyes, nor help the conviction that he had never met a real live woman before. It was like a scene on the stage ; for demonstrative emotion always appeared theatri- cal to him, only it was terribly earnest this time. " You would not say so were you calmer," said Errington, in a curious hesitating manner. " Why why did you not come and tell me your need for your uncle's money? Do you think I am so avaricious as to retain the fortune, or all the fortune, that ought to have been yours, when I had enough of my own ?" "How could I tell?" she cried. " If I knew you then as I do now I should have asked you, and saved my soul alive ; but what did tho name of Errington convey tome? Only the idea of a greedy enemy ! Are men so ready to cast the wealth they can claim into the lap of another? When you spoke to me that day at Castleford I thought I should have dropped at your feet with the overpowering sense of shame. But withal, when I remember my disappointment, my utter inability to help my dear overtasked mother, round whom the net of difficulty, of debt, of fruitless work, was drawing closer and 180 A CROOKED PATH. closer, I again feel the irresistible force of the temptation. You, who are wise and strong 1 and just, might have resisted; "but" with a slight graceful gesture of humility " you see what I am.'' " If you had stopped to think !" Errington was beginning with unusual severity, for he was irritated by the confusion in his own mind, which was so different from his ordinary unhesitating de- cision between right and wrong. "But when you love any one very much so entirely that you know every change of the dear face, the meaning even of thu droop- ing hand or the bend of the weary head ; when you know that a true brave heart is breaking under a load of care care for you, for your future, when it will no longer be near to watch over and up- hold you and that no thought or tenderness or personal exertion can lift that load, gnly the magic of gold, why, you would do almost anything to get it. Would you not if you 'loved like this?" con- cluded Catherine. She had spoken rapidly and with lire. "But I never have," returned Errington, startled. "Then," said she, with some deliberation, "wisdom for you is from one entrance quite shut put." She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and was very still during a pause, which Errington hesitated to break. "It is no doubt lost breath to excuse myself to a man of vour character, only do believe I was not meanly greedv ! Now I have told you everything, I readily resign into your hands what I ought never to have taken. And and you will spare my nephews where- withal to educate them ? Do what I can, this is beyond my powers, but I trust to your generosity not to let them be a burden on Colonel Ormonde. I leave the will with you." She made a movement as if to put on her veil. "Listen to me, Miss Liddell," said Errington. speaking very earnestly and with an effort. "You are in a state of exaltation, of mental excitement. The consciousness of the terrible mistake into which you were tempted has thrown your judgment off its balance. I do not for an instant doubt the sincerity of your proposition, but a little reflection will show you I could not entertain it." i " "Why not ? I am quite willing to bear the blame, the shame, I deserve, rather than see you parted from the woman who was so nearly your wife, who would no doubt suffer keenly, and who' "Pray hear me," interrupted Errington. "To part with Lady Alice is a great aggravation of my present troubles : but considering' the kind of life to which we were both accustomed, and which she had a right to expect, I am sincerely thankful she was preserved from sharing my lot. Alone I can battle with life ; distracted bv knowing I had dragged her down, I should be paralyzed. I shall always remember with grateful regard the lady who honored me by promising to be my wife, but I shall be glad to know that she is in a safe position under the care of a worthier man than myself. That matter is at rest forever. Now as to using the information you have placed in my power, you ask what is impossible. First, it is evident that the late Mr. Liddell fully intended to alter his will in your favor. It would have been most unjust to have bestowed his fortune to me. I am extremely glad it is yours." A CROOKED PATH. 181 "But," again interrupted Katherine, "why should you not shara it at least ? Why should you be penniless while I am rich with what is not mine?'' " I shall not be absolutely penniless," said Errington, smiling 1 gravely. " Even if I were," he continued, with unusual animation, "do you think me capable of rebuilding my fortune on your dis- grace? or of inventing some elaborate lie to account for the pos- session of that unlucky will ? No amount of riches could repay me for either. I dare say the temptation, you describe was irresistible to a nature like yours, and I dare say too the punishment of your self-condemnation is bitter enough. Now you must reflect that your duty is to kei'p the secret to which you have bound yourself. If you raise the veil which must always hide the true facts of your suc- cession, you would create great unhappiness and confusion in Colonel Ormonde's family, and injure the innocent woman whom he would never have married had he not been sure you would provide for Ihe boys. It would be cruel to break up a home merely to indulge a morbid desire for atonement. No, Miss Liddell. Be guided by me ; accept the life you have brought upon yourself. /, the only one who has a right to do it, willingly resign what ought to have been yours without your unfortunately illegal act. Your sacret is perfectly safe with me. Time will heal the wounds you have inflicted on yourself and enable you to forget. Leave tJiis r ill- omened document with me ; it is safer than in your hands. Indeed there is no use in keeping it." "But what what will become of you ?" she asked, with strange familiarity, the outcome of strong excitement which carried her over all conventional limits. " Oh, I have had some training in the world both of men and books, and I hope to be able to keep the wolf from the door." " Would you not accept part at least a sum of money, you know, to begin something?" asked Katherine, her voice quivering, her nerves relaxing from their high tension, and feeling utterly beaten, her high resolves of sacrifice and renunciation tumbling about her, like a house of cards, at the touch of common-sense. "I do not think any arrangements of the kind practicable,'' re- turned Erring-ton, with a kind smile, " I understand your eager- ness to relieve your conscience by an act of restitution, but now you are exonerated. I ask nothing but that you should forgive yourself, and knit lip the ravelled web of your life. The fortune ought to be yours is yours shall be yours." " Will you promise that if you ever want help money help you will ask me? I shall have more money every year, for I shall never spend my income." "I shall not want help," he returned, quietly. "But though it is not likely we shall meet again, believe me I shall always be glad to know you are well and happy. Let this painful conversa- tion be the last we have on this subject. For my part, I grant you plenary absolution." "You are good and generous ; you are wise too ; your judgment constrains me. Yet I hope I shall never see you again. It is too humiliating to meet your eyes. " She spoke brokenly as she tied the white veil closely over her face. 182 A CROOKED PATR " Nevertheless we part friends," said Erring-ton, and hold out his hand. She put hers in it. He felt how it trembled, and held it an instant with a friendly pressure. Then he opened the door and fol- lowed her to the entrance, where he bowed low as she passed out. Erring-ton returned at once to his writing-table and his calcula- tions. He took up his pen, but he did not beg-in to write. He leaned back in his chair and fell into an interesting- train of thoug-ht. What an extraordinary mad proceeding- it was of that g-irl to conceal the will ! It was strangely unprincipled. "How impossible it is to trust a person who acts from impulse ! The difference between masculine and feminine character is immense. No man with a grain of honor in him would have done what she did ; only some dastardly hound who could cheat at cards. And she somehow sha seems a pure good woman in spite of all. I suppose in a woman's sensitive and weaker nature good and evil are less distinct, more shaded into each other. After all, I think I would trust my life to the word of this daring law-breaker. " And Errington recalled the expressive tones of her voice, surprised to feel again the strange thrill which shivered through him when she had looked straight into his eyes, her owii aglow with momentary defiance, and said, " Had it to be done again, I'd do it !" He had never been brought face to face with real emotion before. He knew such a thing existed ; that ii led like most things to good and to evil ; that it was exceedingly use ful to poets, who often touched him, and to actors, who did not ; but in real every-day life he had rarely, if ever, seen it. The people with whom he associated were rich, well born, well trained; a crumpled rose leaf here and there was the worst trouble in their easy, conventional, luxurious lives. Of course lie had met men on the' road to ruin who swore and drank and gambled and generally disgraced themselves. Such cases, however, did not affect him much ; he only touched such characters with moral tongs. Now this delicate, refined girl had humbled herself before him. Her sweet varying tones, her moist glowing eyes, the indescribable tremulous earnestness which was the undertone of all she said, her determined efforts for s.^ command, made a deep impression on him. Was she right when she said that from him " wisdom by one entrance was quite shut out ; J1> At all events he felt, though he did not consci- ously acknowledge it even to himself, that this impulsive, inexperi- enced girl, whom he strove to look down upon from the unsullied heights of his own integrity, had revealed to him something of life's inner core which had hitherto been hidden from his sight. and began to write steadily A CROOKED PATH. ' 18S CHAPTER XX. PLENARY ABSOLUTION. KATHERINB never could distinctly remember what she did after leaving: Errington. She was humbled in the dust crushed, dazed. She felt that every one must perceive the stamp of "felon" upon her. The passionate desire to restore his rightful possessions to Erring- ton, to confess all, had carried her through the dreadful interview. She was infinitely grateful to him for the kind tact with which he concealed the profound contempt her confession must have evoked, but no doubt that sentiment was now in full possession of his mind. It showed in his unhesitating, even scornful, rejection of her offered restitution. She almost regretted having made the attempt, and yet she had a kind of miserable satisfaction in having told the truth, the whole truth, to Errington ; anything was better than wearing* false colors in hip sight. It was this sensa of deception that had embittered her intercourse with him at Castleford ; otherwise she would have been gratified by his grave friendly preference. How calm, how unmoved, he seemed amid the wreck of his for- tunes * Yes, his was true strength the strength of self-mastery. How different, how far nobler than the vehemence of De Burgh's will, which was too strong for his guidance ! But Lady Alice could never have loved Erringtoii never or she would have loved on and waited for him till the time came when union might be possible. Had *hc been in her place ! But at the thought her heart throbbed wildly with the sudden perception that she could have loved him well, with all her soul, and rested on him, confident in his superior wisdom and strength a woman's ideal love. And before this man sin; had been obliged to lay down her self-respect, to confess she had ch '.it -d him basely, to resign his esteem for ever ! It was a bitter r unishment, but even had she been stainless and he a free man, she, Knth.'.rine, was not the sort of girl he would like. She was too im- pulsive, too much at the mercy of her emotions, too quick in form- ing and expressing opinions. ' No ; the feminine reserve and tran- quility of Lady Alice were much more likely to attract his affections and call forth his respect. This was an additional ingredient of bitu-rness, and Katherine felt herself an outcast, undeserving- of tenderness or esteem. The weather was oppressively warm and sunless. A dim instinc- tive recollection of her excuse for coming to town forced Katherine to visit some of the shops where she was in the habit of dealing, and then she sat for more than a weary hour in the Ladies' Room at Waterloo Station, affecting to read a newspaper which she did not see, waiting for the train that would take her home to the darkness and stillness in which friendly night would hide her for a while. The journey back was a continuation of the same tormenting dream- like semi -consciousness, and by the time she reached Cliff Cottage she felt physically ill. "It was dreadfully foolish to go up to town in this heat," said 184 A CROOKED PATH. Miss Payne, severely, when she brought up some tea to Katherine's room, where she retreated on her arrival. "I dare say you could have written for what you wanted." " Not exactly " with a faint smile. " I never saw you look so ill. You must take some sal volatile, and lie e them till to-morrow." So ]\I iss Payne, who had "a grand power of minding her own affairs and abstaining from troublesome questions, softly closed the door behind her. It took some time to rally from the overwhelming humiliation of this crisis. Katherine came slowly back to herself, yet not quite herself. Miss Payne had been so much disturbed by her loss of appetite, of energy, of color, that she had insisted on consulting the local doctor, who pronounced her to be suffering from low fever and nervous depression. He proscribed tonics and warm sea-water baths, which advice Katherine meekly followed. Soon, to the pride of the Sandbourne ^Esculapius, a young practitioner, she showed signs of improvement, and declared herself perfectly well. Perhaps the tonic which had assisted her to complete recovery was a letter which reached her about a week after the interview that had affected her so deeply. It was addressed in large, firm, clear writing, which was strange to her. " I venture to trouble you with a few words," (it ran) " because when last I saw you I was profoundly impressed by the suffering you could not hide. I caniiot refrain from writing to entreat you will accept the position in which you are placed. Having done your best to rectify what is no\y irrevocable, be at peace with your con- science. I am the only individual entitled to complain or interfere with your succession, and 1 fully, freely make over to you any rights 1 possess. Had your uncle's fortune passed to me, it would have been an injustice 'for which I should have felt bound to atone : nor would you have refused my proposition to this effect. Consider this page of your life blotted out, cashing it from your mind. Usa and enjoy your future as a woman of your nature, so far as 1 under- stand it, can do. It will probably be long before I see you again which I regret the less because it might pain you to meet me be- fore time has blunted the keen edge of your self-reproach. Absent or present, however, I shall always be' glad to know that you are well and happy. Will you let me have a line in reply ? " Yours faithfully, A!ILES ERRINGTON." The perusal of this letter brought Katherine the infinite relief of tears. How good and generous he was ! How heartily she admired him ! How gladly she confessed her own inferiority to him ! For- given by Mm, she could face life again, with a sort of humble cour. A CROOKED PATH. 185 age. But oh ! it would be impossible to meet his eyes. No : years would not suffice to blunt the keen self-reproach which the thought of him must always call up the shame, the pride, the dread, the tender gratitude. Long- and passionately she wept before she could recover sufficiently to write him the reply he asked. Than it seem- ed to her that the bitterness and cruel remorse had been melted and washed away by these warm grateful tears. He forgave har, and she could endure the pressure of her shameful secret more easily in future. At last she took her pen, and feeling- that the lines she was about to trace would be a final farewell, wrote : "My words must be few, for none I can find will express rv sense of the service yours have done me. I accept your g-ift. I will try and follow your advice. Shall the day ever come when you will honor me by accepting 1 part of what is your own? Thank you for your kind suggestion not to meet me ; it would be more than I could bear. Yours, KATHERINE." Then with deepest regret she tore up his precious letter into tiny morsels, and striking a match, consumed them. It would not do to incur the possibility of such a letter being read by any third pair of eyes. Moreover, she was careful to post her reply herself. And so, as Erring-ton said, that page of her story was blotted out, at least from the exterior world, but to her own mind it would be ever present ; round this crisis her deepest, most painful, ay, and sweet- est memories would cling. It was past, however, and she must take up her life again. She felt something of the weakness, the softness, which convales- cents experience when first they begin to go about after a long- ill- ness, the dreamy, quiet pleasure of coming back to life. The'boys continued to be 'liar deepest interest. So time went on, and no one seemed to perceive the subtile change which had sobered her spirit. The season was over,- and Mrs. Ormonde descended on Cliff Cottage for a parting visit. She had only given notice of her approach by a telegram. "You know you are quite too obstinate, Katherine," she said, as the sisters-in-law sat together in the drawing-room, waiting for tha cool of the evening before venturing out. " You never came to me all through the season except onco, when you wanted to shop, and now you refuse to join iis at Castleford in September, when we are to have really quite a nice party : Mr. De Burgh and Lord .Rivers- dale and oh ! several really good men." "/dare say I do seem stupid to you. but then, you see, I know what I want. You are very good to wish for me. Next year I shall be very pleased to pay you a visit." " Then what in tlu world will you do in the winter ?" " Remain where I am I mean with Miss Payne and look out for a house for myself." "But. my dear, you are much too young to live alone." " I am twenty -one now ; I shall be twenty -two by the time I am settled in a house of my own. And, Ada, I am going to ask you a favor. Lend me your boys to complete nay respectability." 186 A CROOKED PATH. " What ! for altogether ? Why, Katherine, yon will marry, and" "Well, suppose I do, that need not prevent my having- the comfort of mv nephews' company until the fatal knot is tied." " Now, dear Katherine, do tell me are you engaged to any one ? Not a foreigner ? anything but a foreigner !" "At present," said Katherine, with some solemnity, "I am engagea to two young men." " My dear ! You of all young girls ! I am astonished. There is nothhfg so deep, after all, as a demure young woman. I suppose you are in a scrape, and want Colonel Ormonde to help you out of it?" " I think I can manage my own affairs." "Don't be too sure. A girl with money like you is just the subject for a breach-of -promise case. Do I know either of these men/"' "Yes, both." " Who are they ?" cried Mrs. Ormonde, with deepening interest. "Cis and Charlie," returned Katherine, laughing. " I really cannot see anything amusing in this sort of stupid mysti- fication," cried Mrs. Ormonde, in a huff. "Pray forgive me ; but your determination to marry me out of hand tempts me to such naughtiness. However, be forgiving, and lend me the boys till next spring. They might go to Castleford for Christmas." " Oh no," interrupted Mrs. Ormonde, hastily. " I forgot to men- tion that Ormonde has almost promised to spend next Christmas in Paris. It is such a nuisance to be in one's own place at Christmas ; there is such work distributing blankets and coals and things. If one is away, a check to the rector settles everything. I assure you the life of a country gentleman is not all pleasure." " Then you will let me have the boys fr " Well, "dear, if you really like it, I do not see, when you have such a fancy, why "you should not be indulged." " Thank you. And I may choose a school for Cis ?" " I am sure the neither Ormonde nor I would interfere ; just now it is of no great importance. But of course that is I should like gome allowance for myself out of their money." " Of course you should have whatever you are in the habit of receiving." After this, Mrs. Ormonde was most cordial in her approbation of everything suggested by her sister-in-law. The friendlv conversa- tion was interrupted by the entrance of Cecil with his satchel over his shoulder. He went straight to his young aunt and hugged her. "Well, Cis, I see you don't care for mother now," exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, easily moved to jealousy, as she always was. " Oh yes, I do ! only you don't like me to jump on vou, and auntie doesn't mind about her clothes." And he kissed ner freartilv. "Do you want to come back to Castleford?" " WKat, now? when the holidays begin next week?" this with a rueful expression. " Why, we were to have a sailing boat, and old Norris the sailor and his boy are to come out every evening." "Then you don't want to' come?" A CROOKED PATH. 187 " Oh, mayn't we stay a little longer, mother ? It is so nice here !" "You may stay as longf as your aunt cares to keep you, for all I care," cried Mrs. Ormonde, somewhat spitefullv. " Oh, thank you, mother dear thank you!" throwing- his arms round her neck'. " I'll be such a good boy when I come back ; but it is nice here. Then you have baby, and he does not worry you as much as we do." Katherine thought this a very significant reply. "There! there!" cried Mrs. Ormonde, disengaging herself from the warm clinging arms. "Go and wash your hands; they are frightfully dirty." " It's clean dirt, mother. I stopped on the beach to help Tom Darner to build up a sand fort." " Why did Miss North let you ?" " Oh, I was by myself ! I don't want any one to take care of me," said Cecil, proudly. " Good heavens ! do you let the child walk about alone ?" cried Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of surprise and indignation. " Run away to Miss North," said Katherine, and as Cecil left the room she replied : " As Cecil is nfne years old, Ada, and a very bright boy, I think he may very well be let to take care of himself. The school is not far, and he cannot learn independence too soon." "Perhaps so. But of course you know better than I do. You were always more learned, and all that ; besides, you are not over anxious, as a mother would be." "Nor careless either," said Katherine thinking of the nights at Castfeford when she used to steal to the bedside, of little feverish, restless Charlie, while his mother kept within the bounds of her own luxurious chamber. . "No, no ; certainly not," returned Mrs. Ormonde, remembering it was as well not to offend so strong a person as she felt Katherine to be. " Only Cecil is a tiresome, self-willed boy, and very likely to get into mischief." * " If you wish it, Ada, I shall, of course, have him escorted to and fro to school." "Oh, just as you like. I suppose you know the place better than I do." "Colonel Ormonde has never come down to see me," resumed Katherine, after a pause. " You must tell him I am quite hurt." " Well, dear, you must know that Duke is rather vexed with you," " Vexed with me ! Why?" asked Katherine, opening her eyes. " You see, he thinks you ought to have come to us for a while ; and then De Burgh came back from this last time in such a bad temper that my husband thought you were not behaving well to him mak- ing a lool of him, in short ; inviting him down here to amuse your- self, and then refusing him, if you did refuse." ' ' No, I did not ; for Mr. De Burgh never gave me an opportun- ity," cried Katherine, indignantly. " Nor did I ever ask him here. I 'cannot prevent his coming and lodging at the hotel. I am quite readv to talk to him, because he amuses me, but I am not bound 188 A CROOKED PATH. to marry every man who does. Tell Colonel Ormonde so, with my compliments. " I am sure 7 don't want you to marry De Burgh ! Indeed, I am surprised at Duke ; but you see, being 1 chums and relations (and men stick together so), that he only thinks of De Burgh, who, entre nous, has been awfully fast. He is amusing 1 , and very distingue, but I am afraid he only cares for your money, dear." "Very likely,'" returned Katherine, with much composure. " Then anoth ;r reason why tfce Colonel does not care to come down is that he has a great dislike to that Miss Payne. XV is really hostess here, and it worries Duke to have to be civil to h T." " Why?" asked Katherine. "I can imagine her being an object of perfect indifference ; but dislike no !" " Well, dear, men never like that sort of worn 311 ; people, you know, who eke out their living 1 by doing 1 thing's, when they are plain and old. Handsome adventuresses are quite another affair they are amusing and attractive." " How absurd and unreasonable !" "Yes, of course ; they are all like that. Then he thinks Miss Payne has a bad and dangerous influence on you. He disapproves of your living on with her, for you don't take the position you oujj-ht, and " Katherine laughed good-humoredly as Mrs. Ormonde paused, not knowing very well how to finish her speech. "Colonel Or- monde will hide the light of his countenance from me, then, I am afraid, fora long time ; for I like Miss Payne, andlam going to stay with her for the period agreed upon ; and I will not marry Mr. De Burgh, nor will I let him ask me to do so, for there is a degree of honesty about him which I like. You may repeat all this to your husband, Ada, and add that but; for a lucky chance his wife and myself would have been among the sort of women who eke out their living by doing things. I don't think I should be afraid of attempting self-support if all my money were swept away." " Don't talk of such a thing !" cried "Mrs. Ormonde, turning pale. "Thank God what you have settled on the boys is safe !" Katherine's half-contemptuous good humor carried her serenely through this rather irritating visit, but the totally different train of thought which it evoked assisted her to recover h '.roHii.ary mental tone. It was, however, touched by a minor key of sacin.-.ss, of hu- mility (save when roused by any moving cause to indignation), which gave the charm of soft pensiveness to her manner. Mrs. Ormonde was rather in a hurry to go back to town, as she bad important interviews impending w'ith milliner and dressmaker prior to a visit to Lady Mary Vincent at Cowes, from which she expected the most brilliant results, for (he little women's social ambition grew with what it fed upon. Nor did the rational repose of Katharine's life suit her. Books, music, out-door existence, were a weariness, and in spite of her loudly declared affection for her sister-in-law she found a curious restraint in conversing with her. They parted, therefore, with many kind expressions and much satisfaction. "Iwill write you an account of all our doings at Cowes. I A CROOKED PATH. 189 expect it will be very gay and pleasant there. How I wish you were to be of the party, instead of moping 1 here !" said Mrs. Ormonde. " Thank you. I should like it all, no doubt, but not just now. I will keep you informed of our small doing's." So Mrs. "Ormonde steamed on her way rejoicing-, and Katherine re-entered a pretty low pony-carriage in which she drove a pair of quiet, well-broken ponies, selected for her by Bertie Payne, whose conversion had not obliterated his carnal knowledge of horseflesh. A small groom always accompanied her, for though improved by the practice of driving, she did not like to be alone with her steeds. She had nearly reached the chief street of Sandbourne, when a tall gentleman in yachting dress strolled slowly round the corner of a lane which led to the beach. He paused and" raised his hat. She recognized De Burgh and drew up. " And so you are driving in capital style," was his greeting ; "all by yourself, too. Will you give me a lift back?" "'Certainly. Where have you come from?" "Melford's yacht. I escorted my revered relative, old De Burgh, down to Cowes. He has a little villa there. As he has grown quite civil of late, I think it right to encourage him. Melforcl was there, and invited me to take a short cruise. So I made him land me here iust now. The yacht is still in the offing. Lady Alice was on board." " Indeed !" exclaimed Katherine, with much interest. "How is she?" "So far as one can judge, from the exterior, remarkably well, and exactly the same as ever. It is rather funny, but they ha*d Renshaw on board too, the son of the big brewer who has bought, or is going to buy, Errington's house in Berkeley Square. I fancy it is not imposs- ible he may come in for Errington's QiL-jiancee as well as his ex-resi- dence. " "It cannot be, surely !" cried Katherine, flushing with a curious feeling. "Why not? I don't say immediately. I have no doubt every- thing will be done decently and in order." "Well, it is incomprehensible. " " Not to me. What can (Make that little brute on tho off side keep up to the collar. You want a few lessons from me still.) What can a girl like Lady Alice do? She is an earl's daughter. She cannot dig ; to beg she is ashamed ; she must therefore take to herself a husband from the mammon of unaristocralic monp.y- grubbers." " I should like to meet her again poor Lady Alice !" said Kath- erine, more to herself than to her companion. "I think you are wasting your commiseration," he returned. " She seems quite happy." "She may be successful in hiding her feelings." De Burgh laughed. "Tell me," he asked, " do you really think Errington is the sort of fellow women break their hearts about?" " I cannot tell. He seems to me very good and very nice." "That is a goody -goody description. Well done !" as Katherine 190 A CROOKED PATH. guided her ponies successfully through the gate of her abode and turned them round the gravel sweep. " I must say you have a pretty little nook here." " Had you arrived an hour sooner you Would have seen Mrs. Or- monde. 'I have just seen her off by the 12.30 train. She has been paying us a farewell visit, and is gone to Lady Mary Vincent." "Indeed ! She will have her cup of pleasure running over there ; they live in a flutter of gayety all day long." Here De Burgh sprang to the ground and assisted Katherine to alight. " Will you lunch with us?" she asked, an additional tinge of color mounting to her cheek ; for she knew De Burgh was no favorite of Miss Payne, who was no doubt rejoicing at the prospect of repose and deliverance from their late guest, who generally managed to rub her hostess the wrong way. " You are very kind. I shall be delighted." While Katherine went ostensibly to put aside her hat really to warn Miss Payne De Burgh strolk'd into the drawing-room. How cool and fresh and sweet with abundant flowers it was ! An air of refined homeliness about it, the work and books and music on the open piano, spoke of well-occupied repose. Its simplicity was grace- ful, and indicated the presence of a cultured woman. De Burgh wandered to the window a wide bay and took from a table which stood in it a cabinet photograph of Katherine, taken about a year before. He was absorbed in contemplating it when she came in, and he made a step to meet her. " This is very good," he said. " Where was it taken ?" "In Florence." "It is like" looking intently at her, and then at the pictiire. "But you are changed in some indescribable way, changed since I saw you last, years ago that is, a month isn't it" a month since you drove me from paradise? but you don't remember." " But, Mr. De Burgh, I did not drive you away. You got bored, and went away of your own free-will." "I shall not argue the point with you not now ; but tell me," with a very steady gaze into her eyes, " has anything happened since I left to waken up your soul? It was by no means asleep wln'ii I saw you last, but it has met with an eye-opener of some kind, I am convinced." "I should not have given you credit for so much imagination, Mr. De Burgh." Here Miss Payne made her appearance, and the boys followed. Thev were treated with unusual good-humor and bonhomie by Do Burgh, who actually took Charlie on his knee and asked him some questions about boating, which occupied them till lunch was an- nounced. Miss Payne was too much accustomed to vield to circumstances not to accept De Burgh's attempts to be amiable and agreeable. Ho could be amusing when he chose; there was an odd abruptness, a candid avowal of his views and opinions, when he was in the mood, that attracted Katherine. 44 You are a funny man !" said Cecil, after gazing at him in silence A CROOKED PATH. 191 as he finished his repast. "I wish you would come out in the boat with us. Auntie said we might go." " Very well ; ask her if I may come." "He may, mayn't he?" chorus from both boys. "Yes, if you really care to come ; but do not let the children tease you." " Do you give me credit for being ready to do what I don't like?" " I can't say I do." " When do you start on this expedition?" "About seven, which will interfere with your dinner, for Miss Payne and I have adopted primitive habits, and do not dine late ; we indulge in high tea instead." "Nevertheless, I shall meet you at the jetty. Till then adieu." "May we come with you?" cried the boys together "just as far as the hotel?" " No, dears ; you must stay at home," said Katherine, decidedly. "Then do let him come and see how the puppy is. He has grown quite big." " Yes, I'll come round to the kennel if you'll show me the way," replied De Burgh, with a smiling glance at Katherine. "Till this evening, then," he added, and bowing to Miss Payne, left the room, the bovs capering beside him. "I should say that man has breakfasted on honey this morning," observed Miss Payne, with a sardonic smile. " Does he think that he has only to come, to see, and to conquer ?" "He has been quite pleasant," said Katherine. " I wonder why he is not alwavs nice? He used to be almost rude at Castleford sometimes." She paused, while Miss Payne rose from the table and began to lock away the wine. "I wonder what has become of Mr. Payne? He has not been here for a long time." '" What made you think of him?" asked his sister, sharply. " I suppose the force of contrast reminded me of him. What a difference between Bertie and Mr. De Burgh ! your brother living only to help others, and utterly forgetful of self ; he regardless of eveVything but the gratification of his own fancies at least so far as we can see. ' "Yes ; Mr. De Burgh can hardly be termed a true Christian. Still, Gilbert is rather too weak and credulous. I suspect he is very often taken in." "Is it not better he should be sometimes, dear Miss Payne, than that some poor deserving creature should perish for want of help?" "Well, I don't kno^- Self-preservation is the first law of nature, and if that law were more carefully obeyed, fewer would need help." " Life is an unsolvable problem," said Katherine, and the remark reminded her of her humble friend Rachel. She therefore sat down and wrote her a kind, sympathetic letter, feeling some com- E unction for having allowed so long an interval to elapse since her ist. Her own troubles had occupied her too much. Now that time was 192 A CROOKED PATH. beginning to accustom her to their weight, her deep interest in Rachel revived even with more than its original force. Kather- ine did not make intimates readily. Let there be ever so small a nook in the mind, ever so tiny an incident in the past, which must be hidden from all eyes, and there can be no free pass for outsiders, however dear or valued, to the sanctum of the heart, which must remain sealed, a whispering gallery for its own memories and aspirations. But Rachel Trant never dreamed of receiving confi- dence, nor, after once having strung herself up to tell her sad story, did she allude to her bitter past, save by an occasional word ex- pressing her profound sense of the new life she owed to Katherine ; nor did the latter, when talking with her face to face, ever realize that there was any social difference between them. Rachel's voice, manner, diction, and natural refinement were what might be ex- pected from a gentlewoman, only that through all sounded a strain of harsh strength, the echo of that tierce despair from whose grip the tender consideration of her new friend had delivered her. The evening's sail was very tranquil and soothing. De Burgh was agreeable in the best Avay ; that is, he was sympathetically silent, except when Katherine spoke to him. The boys and their govern- ess sat together in the bow of the boat, where they talked merrily together, occasionally running aft to ask more profound questions of De Burgh and auntie. Fear of rheumatism and discomfort generally kept Miss Payne at home on these occasions. De Burgh walked with Miss Liddell to her own door, but wisely refused to enter. "No," he mused, as he proceeded to his hotel; " I have had enough of a. s-ttiitirfe a trot*. It's an uncomfortable, tantalizing thing, and thoiigh I have been positively angelic for the last seven or eight hours, I can't stand any more intercourse under Miss Payne's paralyzing optics. I wonder if any fellow can keep up a heavenly calm for more than twenty -four hours? Depends on the circulation of the blood. I wonder still more if it is possible that Katherine is more disposed to like me than she was? She is somehow different than when I was here last. So divinely soft and kind ! I have known a score or two of fascinating women, and gone wild about a good many, but this is different. Whv the deuce should she not love me? Most of the others did. Why? God knows. I'll try my luck ; she seems in a propitious mood." CHAPTER XXL "NO." NEXT norning's post brought a letter from Bertie, which was u, kind of complement to Katherine's reflections of the night before. After explaining that he had hitherto bean unable to take a holiday from his various avocations, he promised to spend the following week with his sister and Miss Liddell. He then described the success of Mrs. Needham's bazar, and proceeded thus : " Meeting my old friend Mrs. Dodd a few days ago, I was sorry to j*" _ A CROOKED PATH. 193 find from her that your favorite, Rachel Trant, had been very unwell. She had had a great deal of work, thanks to your kind efforts on her behalf, and sat at it early and late ; then she took cold. I went to see her, and found her in a state of extreme depression, like that from which you succeeded in rousing- her. I think it would be well if she could have a little change. Are there any cheap, humble lode-ings at Sandbourne, where she might pass a week or two? I shall pass this matter in your hands." "I am sure bid Norris's wife would take her in. They have a nice cottage, almost on the beach, close to the point." "No doubt. Really that Rachel of yours is in great luck. I wonder how many poor girls in London are dying for a breath of sea-air?" ." Ah, hundreds, I fear. But then, you see, they have not been brought under my notice, and Rachel has ; so I will do the best I can for her. I am sure she is no common woman." " At all events she has no common luck." Katherine lost no time in visiting Mrs. Norris, and found that she was in the habit of letting a large, low, but comfortable room up- stairs, whore the bed was gorgeous with a patchwork quilt of many colors, and permitting her lodgers to dine in a small parlor, which was her own sitting-room. The old woman had not had any " chance " that season, as she termed it, and gladly agreed to take the young person recommend- ed by her husband's liberal employer. So Katharine walked back to write both to Bertie and their protegp?. During her absence De Burgh had called, but left no message. And Katherine felt a little sorry to have missed him, as she thought it probable he would go on to town that afternoon, and she wanted to near some tidings of Errington, yet could hardly nerve herself to ask. The evening was gloriously fine, and as Miss Payne did not like boating, the pony -carriage was given up to her, the boys, and Miss North the governess, for along drive to a farm-house where the boys enjoyed rambling about, and Miss Payne bought new-laid eggs. When they had set out, Katherine took a white woolen shawl over her arm -for even in July the breeze was sometimes chill at sun- down and strolled along the road, or rather cart track, which led between the cliff's and the sea to the boatman's cottage. She passed this, nodding pleasantly to the sturdy old man, who was busy in his cabbage garden, and pursued a path which led as far as a foot- ing could be found, to where the sea washed against the point. It was a favorite spot with Katherine, who was tolerably sure of being; undisturbed here. The view across the bay was tranquilly beauti- ful ; the older part of Sandbourne only, with the pretty okTinn, was visible from her rocky seat among the bowlders and debris which had fallen from above, while the old tower at the opposite point of. the bav stood out black and solid against the flood of golden light behind it. Sh ; sat tii -,re very still, enjoying the air, the scene, the sweet salt bivath oc the sea, thinking iiit-.iiiMy of Rachel Trant's ex- perience, of her fatal weakness, of the unpit^ ing severity or that 194 A CROOKED PATH. rule of law under which we social atoms are constrained to live ; of the evident fact that were we but wise and good we might always be the beneficent arbiters of our own fate ; that there are few plea- sures which hive not their price ; and after all, though she, Kath- erine, had paid high for hers, it had not cost too much, considering- she had been groping in the dimness of imperfect knowledge. Oh, how she wished she had never attempted to act providence to her mother and herself, but trusted to Errington's sense of generosity and justice ! Of course it would have been humiliating to beg from a stranger, yet before that stranger she had been compelled to lower herself to the dust, and The unwonted sound of approaching feet startled her. She turned, to see De Burgh within speaking distance. "I am like Robinson Crusoe in my solitude here," she said, smiling. "I turn pale at the sound of an unexpected step, as he did at the print of Friday's foot." " And to continue the smile," he returned, leaning against a rock near her, " the footprint or step, as in Crusoe's case, only announces the ad vent of a devoted slave. '^ He spoke lightly, and Katherine scarce noticed what seemed to her an idle compliment. " I fancied you had gone to town," she said. "No ; I am not going to town ; I don't know or care where I am going. Some kind friends might say I am on my way to the dogs." "I hope not," said Katherine, gravely. "I imag-ine, Mr. De Burgh, that if you had some object of ambition "I should become an Admirable Crichton? I don't think so. There are such dreary pauses in the current of all careers !" " Of course. You would not live in a tornado !" " I am not so sure" laughing. " At all events I shall never be satisfied with still life like our friend Errington." " Do you know anything of him ? Mrs. Ormonde never mentions his name." " Of course not ; when a fellow can't keep pace with his peers, away with him. crucify him." " As long as a few special friends are true "If they are," interrupted De Burgh; and Katherine did not resume, hoping he would continue the theme, which he did, saying: "He has left his big house, gone into chambers somewhere, ai"d has I believe, taken up literature, politics, and social subjects. So Lady Mary Vincent says. I fancy he is a clever fellow in a cast- iron style. ' ' What a change for him !" " I believe there was something coming to him out of the wreck, and 1 think he is a sort of man who will float. I never liked him mvself, chiefly, 1 fancy, because I know he doesn't like me. Indeed, I clon't care for people in general." There was a pause, during which Katherine glanced at her companion, and was struck by his sombre expression, the stern compression of his lips. " Did you call at the cottage?" she asked. "No ; you were out this morning, and I did not like to intrude again/' he laughed. * ' Growing modest in my ser and yellow days, A CROOKED PATH. 195 you see ; so I thought I should perhaps find vou here, as I saw your numerous party drive past the hotel." " I like this corner, and often come here. But, Mr. De Burgh you look as if the times were out of joint." ' So they are "suddenly seating- himself on a flat stone nearly at Katharine's feet, leaning' his elbow on another, and resting- his head on his hand, so as to look up easily in her face. " What g-lopmy dark eyes he has !" she thoug-ht. 'I should like to tell you why, ' ; he went on. "Very well," returned KathcTine, who felt a little uneasy. " I am pretty considerably in debt, to beg-in with. If I paid up I should have about three half-pence ca year to live on. Besides mv debts I have an unconscionably ancient relative whose title and a beg-g-arly five thousand a year most come to me when he dies, if he ever dies. This venerable impediment has some hundred or more thousands which he can bequeath to whom he likes. Hitherto he has not considered me a credit to the family. Well, I went to him the other day, on his own invitation, and to my amazement he offered to pay my debts on one condition." " 1 do hope he will," cried Katherine, as De Burg-h paused. She was quite interested and relieved by the tone of his nar- rative. "Ay, but there's the rub. I can't fulfil the condition, I fear. It is that I should marry a woman rich enough to replace the money my debts will absorb ; a particular woman who doesn't care for me, and whom, knowing- the hideous tang-le of motives that hang's round the central idea of winning her, 1 am almost ashamed to ask ; but a woman that any man might court ; a woman 1 have loved from the first moment my eyes met hers, who has haunted and distracted me ever since, and who is, I dare say, a great deal too good for me ; but a creature I will strive to win, no matter what the cost of success. This girl, or rather (for there is a richness and ripeness of nature about her which deserves the term) this fair, sweet woman I need not name her to you." He stopped, and his passionate pleading- eyes held hers. Katherine grew white, half with fear half with sincere compassion. She tried to speak. At last the words came. "You make me terribly sad, Mr De Burgh," she said, with trembling lips. " You make me fo sorry that J cannot marry you but I cannot indeed I cannot. Will Lord De Burgh not pay your debts if he knows you have done your best to persuade me to marry you?" De Burgh laiighed a cynical laugh. " You are infinitely practical, Katherine. (I am going- to call you Katherine for the next few minutes. Because I think of you as Katherine, I love to speak your name to vourself ; it seems to brin* me a little nearer to you.) Listen to me. Don't you think you could endure me as a husband ? I am a better fellow "than I seem, and mine is no foolish boy's fancy. I am a better man when I am near you. Then this old cousin of mine will leave me all he possesses if you are my wife, and the Baroness de Burgh, with money enough to keep her place among her peers, would have no mean position ; nor is a husband passionately devoted to you unworthy of consideration." 196 A CROOKED PATH. "It is not indeed. But, Mr. De Burgh, do you honestly think that devotion would last ? These violent feelings" often work their own destruction." "Ay : God knows they do, amazingly fast," he returned, with a sigh and a far -away look. "But what you say applies to all men. If you ever marry "you must run the risk of inconstancy in the man you accept. I am at least old enough and experienced enough to Value a good woman when I have found one, especially when she does not make her goodness a bore. And you you have inspired me with something different from anything I have ever felt before. Yes, yes," he went on, angrily, as he noticed a slight smile on her lips. " I see you try to treat this as only the stereotype talk of a lover who wants your money more than" yourself ; but if you listen to the judgment of your own heart, it is true and honest enough to recognize truth in another, and it will tell vou that, whatever my faults (and they are legion), sneaking and duplicity are not among them. It is quite true that when first I heard of you I thought your fortune would be just the thing to put me right, as I have no doubt my dear friend Mrs. Ormonde has impressed upon you, but from the moment I first spoke to you I felt, I knew, there was something about you different from other women. I also knew that in the eiibrt to win the heiress I was heavily handicapped by the sudden strong passion for the woman which seized me." " That surely ought to have been a means of success ?" said Kath- erine, a good deal interested in his account of himself. "No: it made me, for the first time in my life, hesitating, self- distrustful, and awfully disgusted at having to take your money into consideration. Had you been an ordinary woman, ready to exchange vour fortune for the social position 1 could give my wife, and per- haps with a certain degree of liking for the kind of free-lance repu- tation I am told I possess, I should have carried my point, and presented the future Baroness de Burgh to my venerable kinsman months ago." "And suppose the unfortunate heiress had been a soft-hearted, simple girl Y said Katherine, with a slight faltering in her tones. "Suppose she were credulous, loving, attracted by you you are probably attractive to some women and married you* believing in your disinterested affection?" De Burgh, who had risen from half -recumbent position, and stood leaning against a larger fragment of rock, paused before he replied: "I think that I am a gentleman enough not to be a t>rute, but I rather believe a woman of the type you describe would not have a blissful existence with me." " I am sure of it. You are quite capable of making the life of such a woman too dreadful to think of." She shuddered slightly. De Burgh looked curioiisly at her. "If you will have the good- ness to undertake my punishment," he said, "by marrying me without love, and letting me prove how earnestly I could serve you and strive to win it, I'll strike the bargain this moment. I have been reckless and unfortunate. Now give me a chance ; for I do love you, Katherine. I'd love you if you were the humblest of un- do wered women." A CROOKED PATH. 197 The tears stood in her eyes, for the passion and feeling in his voice struck home to her. " I believe it," she said, softly, " and I am almost sorry I cannot love you. But I do not, nor do I think I ever could. You will find others quite as likely to draw forth your affection as I am. But there are some natural barriers of disposition, and oh, I cannot define what which hold/us apart. Yet I am interested in you, and would like to know you were happy. Yet, Mr. De Burgh, I must not sacrifice my life to you. If I did, the result might not be satis- factory even to yourself. " ' ' Sacrifice your life ! What an unflattering 1 expression !" cried De Burgh, with a hard laugh. " So there is no hope for me?" Katharine shook her head. "I felt there was but lictle when I began,'' he said, as if to himself. "Tell me, are you free? Has some more fortunate fellow than my self touched that impregnable heart of yours? I know I have no right to ask such a question." "You have not indeed, Mr. De Burgh. And if I could not with truth say ' no,' I should be vexed with you for asking it. Weighted as I am with money enough to excite the greed of ordinary struggling men, I shall not be in a hurry to renounce my comfortable indepen- dence. " De Burgh's eyes again held hers with a look of entreaty. " That independence will last just as long as your heart escapes the influence of the man whom you will love one day ; for though love lies sleeping, it is in you, and will spring to life some time, all the stronger and more irresistible because his birth has not come early. Then you will feel more for me than you do now." " I do feel for you, Mr. De Burgh " raising her moist eyes to his. "Thank you" taking her hand and kissing it. "Will you, then be my friend, and promise not to banish me ? I'll be sensible, and give you no trouble." " Oh yes, certainly, " said Katherine, glad to be able to comfort him in any way ; and she withdrew her hand. "I am not going to worry you with my presence now," he con- tinued. " I snail say good -by for the present. lam going away north. I have entered a norse for a big steeple-chase at Barton Towers, and will ride him myself. If I win I can hold out awhile longer. You must wish me success." " I am sure I do, heartily. After this, do give up racing." " Very well. But " pressing her hand hard " I'll tell you what I will not give up, my hope of winning you, until you are married to some one else and out of my reach." He kissed her hand again, and then, without any further adieu, turned away, walking with long swift steps toward the town, not once looking back. "Thank God he is gone !" was Katherine's mental exclamation as the sound of his foot-fall died away. She was troubled by his intensity and determination, and touched by his unmistakable sin- cerity. " If I loved him I should not be afraid to marry him. I think h might possibly make a good husband to a woman he was 198 A CROOKED PATH. really attached to ; but I have not the least spark of affection for him," though there is something- very distinguished in his figure and bearing ; even his ruggedness is perfectly free from vulgarity. Yes, he is a sort of man who might fascinate some women ; but he is terribly wrong-headed. If he keeps hoping on until I marry, h,> lias a long'spell of celibac\ r before him. I dare say he will be married himself before two years are over. She sat awhile longer thinking, her face growing softer and sadder. Then she rose, wrapped her shawl round her, and walked slowly back to the cottage, where she found the rest of the party just returned, joyous and hungry. Bertie came down late on the following Saturday, and brought a note from Rachel Trant to Katherine, accepting her offer of quarters at Sandbourne with grateful readiness. Katherine was always pleased with her letters ; they expressed so much in a few words ; a spirit of affectionate gratitude breathed through their quiet diction. Katherine was very glad to receive it, for Bertie's accounts of their pmtif/c- made her uneasy. She had at first refused to move, saying it was really of no use'spoudkig money upon her, and seemed to be sinking back' into the lethargic condition from which Kath- erine had woke her. Her kind protectress therefore set off early on Monday to tell Mrs. Norris she was coming, and to make her room look pretty and cheer- ful. By her orders the boatman's son was despatched to meet their ex-pected tenant on her arrival. Miss Payne having arranged a pic- nic for that da}', at which Katherine's company could not be dis- pensed with. When they returned it was already evening ; still Katherine could not refrain from visiting her friend. ''She will be so strange and lonely with people she has never seen before," she said to Bertie. "As soon as tea is over I shall go and see her." " It will be rather late, yet it will be a great kindness. I will go with you. and wait for you among the rocks on the beach." Miss Payne expressed her opinion that it was unwise to set beg- gars on horseback, but offered no further opposition. The sun had not quite sunk as Katherine and her companion walked leisurely by the road which skirted the beach toward the boatman's dwelling. "I wish we could find some occupation that could so fill Rachel Trant's mind as to prevent these dreadful fits of depression," began Katherine. " She had plenty of work, and seemed successful in her perfor- mance of it," he returned ; "but it does not seem to have kept her from a recurrence of these morbid moods. Loneliness does not ap- pear to suit her." "Sitting from morning till night, unremittingly at work, in silence, alone with memories which must be very sad^is not the best method of recovering cheerfulness, and unfortunately Rachel is too much above her station to make many friends in it. She wants movement as well as work," remarked Katherine. A CROOKED PATH. 199 "As you consider her so good a dressmaker, it might be well to establish her on a larger scale, and give her some of the older girls from our Home as apprentices. Looking- after and teaching them would amuse as well as occupy her." "It is an idea worth developing !" exclaimed Katherine ; and they walked on a few paces in silence. "So De Burgh has been paying you a visit.?" said Bertie at length. "He has been paying Sandbourne a visit. He did not stay with us." " It is wonderful that he could tame his energies even to stay here a few days. " " He was here only two days the last time." " You cannot have much in common with such a man. ' " Not much, certainly ; still, he interests me. He has had such a narrow escape of being a good man." 44 Narrow escape ! I should say he never was in much danger of (hat destiny." 44 Perhaps if the door of every heart were opened to us we should see more good in all than we could expect." A few words more brought them to the. boatman's house, where they parted. Miss Trant was at home, Mrs. Norris said. Katherine ascended the steep ladder-like stair, and having knocked at the door, entered the room. Rachel was seated in the window, which was wide open. Her elbows rested on a small table, and her chin on her clasped hands, while her large blue eyes looked steadily out over the bav, which slept blue ana peaceful below ; the lines "of her slightly bent figure looked graceful and refined, but there was infinite sadness in her posa. " I am very glad to see you again," said Katherine. Rachel, who was too deep in thought to hear her enter, started up to clasp her offered hand. Her pale thin face was lit with pleasure, and her grave, almost stern eyes soft -ned. " And so am I. You do not know how glad. Do you know, I be- gan to think I never should see you again," and she kissed the hand she held. "Do not!" said Katherine, bending forward to kiss her brow. 4 'Were you so ill, then? 1 " " Not physically ill, except for my cough ; but for all that I felt dying, and really I often wonder why you try to keep me alive. I am a trouble to you, and I do very little good. Had I not been a coward I should have left the world, where I have no particular place, long ago." " Well, you see, I have a sort of superstition that life is a goodly gift which"must not be cast aside for a whim ; and why should vou despair of finding peace ? There is so much that is delightful in life !" 44 And so much that is tragic !" 44 Ah, yes ! but if we only seek for the sorrowful we destroy our own lives, without helping any one. You must let the dead past bury its dead." 44 How if the dead past comes aiid crosses your path, and looks you , in the face?" 200 A CROOKED PATH. 4 " What do you mean, Rachel ?" "You will think me weak and contemptible, but I must confess to you the cause of my late prostration.' 1 " Yes, do ; it may be a relief." "About a month ago," said Rachel, sitting 1 down by the table op- posite Katherine, and again resting her elbow on it, while she half hid her face by placing- her open hand over her eyes, " I was walking to Mrs. Needham's with some work I had finished, when, turning into Lo \vndes Square, I came face to face with him. It is true I had a thick veil on, and my large parcel must have partially dis- guised me, but he did not recognize me. He passed me with the most unconscious composure, and he was looking better, brighter, than I had ever seen him. The sight of him brought back ail the torturing pangs of helpless sorrow for the sweetness, the inter r happiness I can never know again ; the stinging shame, the poiso-i of crushed hopes, the profound contempt for myself, the sense of being of no value to any one on earth I think if I could have spo- ken to /yow, I might have shaken oT these fiends of thought ; but I was alone, always alone: why should I live?" " Rachel, you mimf put this cruel L i m out of your mind. He has been the destroyer of your life. Try and cast the idea of the past from you. Life is too abundant to be exhausted by one sorrow. You have years before you in which to build up a new'existence and find consolation. I will not listen to another word about your former life ; let us only look forward. I have a plan for you at i least Mr. Payne has suggested the idea in which youcan'lulp us and others, and which will need all your time and "energy.' But I will not even talk of this business. We must try lighter and pleas- janter topics Not another word about by -gone days will I speak. You have started afresh under my auspices, and I mean you to float. No'v that you are here, Rachel, you must read amusing books, and be out in the open air all day. You will be a new creature in a week. You must come and see my cottage and my nephews ; they are dear little fellows Are you fond of children ?"' i " I don't think I am. I never had anything to do with them. Biit I would rather not go to your house, dear Miss Liddell. I feel as if I could not brave Miss Payne's eyes." "That is mere morbidness. There is no reason why you should fear any one. You must discount your future rights. A few years hence, when you are a new woman, you will, I am sure, look "back with wonder and pity as if reading the memo!:- of another. I know that spells of self-forgiveness come to us mercifu..y." ' When I listen to you. and hear in the tones of your voice more even than in your words that you are my friend, that you really care for me, that it will be a, real j >y to you to see me rise above myself, I feel that I can live and strive and be something more than a galvanized corpse. You give me strength. I wonder if I shall ever be able to prove to you what you have done for me. Stand by me, and I will try to put the past under my feet. I do not wish to presume on the great goodness you have shown me nor to forget the difference between us socially, but oh ! let me believe you love me even me with the kindly 'affection that can forgive" even while it [blamed.'' A CROOKED PATH. 201 " Be assured of that, Rachel," cried Katherine, her eyes moist and beautiful with the divine light of kindness and sympathy, as she stretched out her hand to clasp Rachel's. "I have from the first been drawn to you strangely it is something- instinctive and I have firm belief in your future, if you will but believe in yourself. You are a strong 1 , brave woman, who can dare to look truth in the face. You will be useful and successful yet." Rachel held her hand tightly for a minute in silence ; then she said, in a low but firm voice : ''I will try to realize your belief. I should be too unworthy if I failed to do my very best. There ! I have discarded the past : you shall hear of it no more." They were silent for a while ; then a solemn old eight-day clock with a fine tone struck loudly and deliberatedly in tha room below. Katherine, with a smile, counted each stroke. "Nine!" she ex- claimed, when the last had sounded ; " and though it is 9 P.M., let it be the first hour of your new life." She rose, and passing- her arm over Rachel's shoulder, kissed her once more with sisterly warmth. "Mr. Payne is waiting for me, so I must leave you.. I have sent you some books ; I have but few here. One will amuse you, I am sure, though it is old enough a translation of the Memoirs of Mfulnm d'Auranii-K. It is full of such quaint pictures of the great Napoleon's court, and does not display much dignity or nobility, yet it is an honest sort of book." "Thank you. I don't want novels now; they generally pain me. But my greatest solace is to forget myself in a book." Bertie Pavne's visit was a very happy one. Tha boys adored him, and subjects of discussion and difference of opinion never failed be- tween Katherine and himself. She consulted him as to what school would be best for Cecil, and he advised that he should be left as a boarder at the one which he now attended, and where he had made fair progress, when Miss Payne and Katherine returned to town. Bertie looked a new man when he bade them good-by, promising to come again soon. Beyond sending a newspaper which recorded his victory in the Barton Towers staple-chase De Burgh made no sign, and life ran smoothly in its ordinary grooves at Sandbourne. Rachel Trant revived marvellously. The change of scene, the fresh salt air, above all the society of Katherine, who frequently visited and walked with her, all combined to give her new life- even emboldening her to look at the future. Her manner, always grave and respectful, won reluctant approval from Miss Payne. And the boys were always pleased to run to the boatman's cottage with flowers or fruit, and talk to, or ratherquestion, their new friend. Rache! seemed always glad to see them, though she evidently shrank from returning their visits She was never quite herself, or off guard, except when alone with Katherine. Then she spoke out of her heart, and uttered thoughts and opinions which often surprised Katherine, and set her thinking more seriously than she had ever done before. Finally, hearing from her good old landlady that some of her customers had returned to town and were inquiring for her, Rachel said it was time har holiday came to an end. " I feel now that I can bear to live and try to be independent. 202 A CROOKED PATH. Indeed my life is yours ; you have given it back to me, and I will yet prove to you that I am not unworthy of your wonderful gen- erosity," she said, the morning of the day she was to start for Lon- don, as she sat with Katherine among the rocks at the point. "The idea of an establishment such as Mr. Payne suggests is excellent. it ought to be your property, and good property I need only be your steward while it may 'be of groat use to others." "1 fuel quite impatient to carry out the project, and we will set about it as soon as I return to fcowu," returned Katherine. u Will vou write to me sometimes?" asked Rachel, humbly. "I feel as if 1 dare not let you go : all of hope or promise that can come into my wrecked life centres in you. While you are my friend I can face the world." "Yes, Rachel, write to me as often as you like, and I will answer your letters. Trust me : I will always be your true friend." CHAPTER XXH. ^ "WARP AND WOOF." WHEN the rough weather of a stormy autumn obliged Katherine to keep in-doors she began to feel the monotony of existence by the sad sea waves, and to wish for the sociability of London. The end of October, then, saw Miss Payne and party re-established in Wilton Street, having left Cecil at school. With Charlie, Katherine could not part just yet. She intended to keep him till after Christmas, when he was to go to school with his brother. f Though town was empty as regarded " society," there was plenty of life and movement in the streets, and Katherine, always thankful for occupation which drew her thoughts away from her profound regret for the barrier which existed between Errington and herself, was glad to t>e back in the great capital. She threw herself into the scheme of establishing Rachel Trant as a " court dress-maker " most heartily, and Bertie Payne spared time from his multifarious avoca- tions to give important assistance. Rachel herself, too, proved to be a wise counsellor, her previous training having given her some ex- perience in business. Katherine therefore found interesting employ- ment in looking for a small house suited to the undertaking. Mr. Newton was writing busily in his private room one foggy afternoon when he was informed that Miss Liddell wished to speak to him. " Show her in at once," he said, cheerfully, as if pleased, and he rose to receive her. " Glad to see you, Miss Liddell, looking all the better for your sojourn by the sea-side. Why, it must be nearly six months since I saw you." "Yes, quite six months, Mr. Newton. I suppose you have been refreshing yourself too, after the fatigues of the season. You must try Sandbourne next vear. It is a very nice little place." "Sandbourne? I don't think 1 know it. But now what do you want, my dear young lady ? I don't suppose you coine here merely for pleasure." A CROOKED PATH, 203 " I assure you it always gives me great pleasure," said Katherine, with a sweet, sunny smile. " You have always been my very good friend." " Well, a sincere one, at all events," returned the dry old lawyer, whose aridity was not proof against the charm of his young client. " I must not waste your time," she resumed, drawing her chair a little nearer the table behind which he was ensconced. "I want to buy a house which I have seen, and I want you to attend to all de- tails connected with it." " Oh ah ! "Well, a good house would not be a bad investment ; it would be very convenient to have a residence in London." "It is not for myself ; it is a speculation." "A speculation? What put that into your head ?" Whereupon Katherine told him her story. "I think it rather a mad undertaking*," was Mr. Newton's verdict. "These projects seldom succeed. I don't care for clever interesting young women who have no one belonging to them and cannot cor- roborate their stories. How do you know she was not dismissed from Blackie & Co.'s for theft?" Katherine laughed. "I certainly do not know," she said, "but I feel, it is quite as impossible for her to steal as it is for myself." " Feel ! feel !" (impatiently). " Just so : impostors thrive on the good feelings of of the simple." "You we re going to say fools," said Katherine. "Don't let us waste time, my dear Mr. Newton," she went on, with good-humored decision. " We shall never agree on such a topic ; and I am going to buy this house, or another of the same kind if this proves not to be desirable ; ami I should be very sorry to employ any one but you to arrange the purchase." "Oh, you know your own mind, and how to threaten eh, Miss Liddell ?" he returned, with a smile. " I must know more about the tenement before I can consent to act for you. " " It is an ordinary three-storied house, with a couple of rooms built out at the back, in a small street where there are a few shops ; but it is near Westbourne Terrace, and therefore in a region of good customers. The late owner has been succeeded by a son, who seems very anxious to get rid of it. The price asked is seven hundred and fifty pounds, and I believe the taxes are under ten pounds. Do, dear Mr. Newton, look into the matter, and get it settled as soon as possible, and on the best terms you can." " Hum ! and the furniture? Do you undertake that too?" " Of course. Don't you see, I can do it all out of the money I have not been able to use. There is quite three thousand pounds on de- posit in the bank. You know you wrote to me only a month ago about letting the money lie idle. I shall employ it now, for my protegee, Miss Trant, will be my only manager. I will pay her wages, and whatever profit after comes to me." " A very unknown quantity," said the lawyer, drily. " Still, the house can't run away, and I suppose will aways let for fifty or sixty pounds a year." "Fifty, I think." " Then I will look into the matter. Is it ; fcabitabte im- pair?" 204) A CROOKED PATH. " It seems so. Do your best to have the purchase completed as soon as possible, dear Mr. Newton. I want to start my modiste in good time to catch the home-coming 1 people. " Believe me, it is an unwise project," said Newton, thought- fully. " I know you think so, and you are right to counsel me according to your conscience ; but as I am quite determined, you must not let me go to a stranger for help." "very well ; give ine the address." " Seven Maiden Street, Paddington. Bell & Co., house agents, in Harrow Road, have it on their books." " Good ! I'll get a surveyor to see to sanitary arrangements, etc. Now that, as usual, you have conquered again and again, tell me something- of yourself. Are you tired of the little nephews yet?" " No, indeed. I have been happier with them than I dared hope to be when I was left alone nearly a year ago, yet " Her voice fal- tered and her soft dark eyes lilled. "Yes, yes," hastily, with a man's dread of tears; "you couldn't get over that all at once. But you know it is a very Quixotic busi- ness taking those boys : and Mrs. Ormonde is not the woman to re- lieve you should any ditticulty arise." "But when boys are well provided for there never can be a difficulty. Ah, Mr. Newton, what a- wonderful magician money is ! What would become of me without it? It is almost worth risking anything to get it." "Or, apparently, to get rid of it," remarked Mr Newton. " Rv- the- way , that was a tremendous smash of Errington's. Did you hear anything about him ?" " Yes," rather faintly " The reason I mention him is that, curiously enough, lie was the man your uncle left everything to in that will he very fortunately destroyed. Of course I should only mention it to you though now all is passed and gone, it is of no importance. He has behaved very well. I am told he has turned to literature. It's a pity he did not follow his profession ; but it would be rather late in the day for that. I think you must find these rooms rather stufify and warm after the sea-breezes, for you are looking- pale and fagged again." ' I feel a headache coming on, "said Katherine, pulling herself to- gether. " I hope you will pay me a visit some day. I should like to show you my dear little Charlie. He has a great look of my mother, especially his eyes ; they arejnxt like hers." "If you will allow me to come some Sunday "Certainly. You will sympathise with Miss Payne. She shares your deep-rooted distrust of your fellow-creatures Yet even a he has some faint faith in Rachel Trant." "That is the best symptom about the affair I have yet heard of. By-tlu> bye, this Miss Payne has made you comfortable? she has been a successful ex per iinent ."' " Very successful indeed. I quite like her, and respect her ; but I shall not stay longer than the time I agreed for. I want to make a home for the" boys and myself." A CROOKED PATH. 205 " What ! Will Mrs. Ormonde give them up?" "Not avowedly, but they will ultimately glide into my hands. " " I trust you will not regret the charge you are taking on your- self." " I do not fear failure. These children are a great source of plea- sure to me." A few more words, a promise on Mr. Newton's part to hurry matters, and Katherine, bidding him adieu for the present, descended to the brougham which she usually hired for distant expeditions. Ordering the coachman to stop at Howell& James', Katherine leaned back and reflected on the interview with Mr. Newton. No doubt he thought he had given her a good deal of curious information. If he only knew what a living lie she was ! Her duplicity met her a.t every turn, and cried shame upon her. However, she had the par- don and permission of him against whom she had chiefly offended that counted for much. Still, if was too hard a punishment that the ghost of her transgression should thus cry out against her, and sho had done her best to rectify it. She felt profoundly depressed. It was an eTort to execute the commissions intrusted to her by Miss Payne. Th:-s performed, she was leaving the shop, when a gentleman who was passing rapidly almost ran against her. He paused and raised his hat as if to apologize. It was Errington. "Miss Liddell!" he exclaimed, a startled, pleased look animating his eyes. " I understood you were out of town. I hardly hoped to meet vou again." Katheriue Hushed up, and then grew white. " I have been out of town ever since " Since what? that turning-point in her life when she confessed all to him? "And I have been in town," rejoined Errington. "It is not nearly so bad as some people imagine. Where are you staying?" "Oh, I am always with Miss Payne, in Wilton Street." " 1 remember. But I am keeping- you standing. May I come and see you?" " Oh no ; I would rather not," cried Katherine, with an irresistible impulse which she reg'retted the next moment. "You are always frank, "said Errington, with a kind smile, yet in a disappointed "tone. "I will not intrude, than. How are your nephews, and Mrs. Ormonde? I seem to have lost sight of everyone, for I have become a very busy man." "Yes, I know," she returned, her color going and coming, her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak. " I must seem so rude ! But I have read some of your papers in Tin' Age. It must, indeed, take time and study to produce such articles. " "And patience on the part of a young lady to wade through them." " No ; they always interest me, even when a little over my head. Though I do not want you to come and see me, I am always "so glad to hear about you, to know you are well." "Then wh/ avoid me?" 206 A CEOOKED PATH. " How can I help it?" looking at him with dewy eyes and quiv- ering lips. "Well, I must accept your decision. I wish But I will not detain you." He opened the carriage door and handed her in. For an instant her eyes sought his with a wistful, deprecat- ing look, then she said, "Tell him 'home,' please," and she drove off. The encounter unhinged her for the day. AVhy had he crossed her path, and why had she allowed herself to reject his friendly offer to come and see her '{ Yet it would have made her miserable to bear the quiet scrutiny of his eyes through a whole visit. He had evidently quite forgiven her, but that could not restore her self- respect or render her less keenly alive to the silent reproach of his presence. And yet it was pleasant to hear him speak, his voice was so clear, so well modulated, so intelligent. And how well he looked ! better and brighter than she had ever seen him. It was evident that he was not breaking his heart about Lady Alice. How could she have given him up ? Though nothing was more natural or probable than that they should meet when both lived ui the same town, huge as it is, it was an immense surprise to Katherine, who had somehow come to the conclusion that they were never to set eyes on each other again. This impression upset her. She was constantly on the outlook for Errington wherever she drove or walked, and the composure which she had been diligently, and with a sort of sad resignation to Erring- ton's wishes, building-up, was replaced by a feverish, restless anti- cipation of she knew not what. The result was increased eagerness to see the completion of her dressmaking scheme, and she made Mr. Newton's life a burden to him till all was accomplished. In this she found a shrewd assistant in Mrs. Needharn, who took up the cause furiously, and drove hither and thither, exhort- ing, entreating, commanding, and really bringing in customers, somewhat to Katherine's surprise, as she did not expect much wool from so great a cry. Shortly before Christmas Miss Trant's establishment was in full working order, a couple of clever assistants had been engaged, and Rachel herself seemed to wake up to the full energy of her nature under the spur of responsibility. The affair was not brought to a conclusion, however, without a struggle on the part of Mr. Newton against Katherine's resolution not to appear in the matter. The house was bought in Rachel Trant's name, the sale was made to her, and Miss Liddell's name never appeared. Newton declared it to be sheer madness ; even Bertie Payne considered it unwise ; but Katherine was immovable. "I am Miss Trant's creditor," she said. "If successful, sho will pay me : if not, why, she will give up the house to me. I have full faith in her, and 1 wish her to be perfectly unshackled in the un- dertaking. As the owner of a house she will more readily obtain any credit she may need." "Which means," said Mr. Newton, crossly, "that you Hll v A CROOKED PATH. 207 have to pay her debts if you ever intend to get possession of the house." "Well, I have made up my mind to the risk," returned Kath- erine, with smiling 1 determination ; " so we will say no more about it." The unexpected meeting- with Errington haunted Katherine for many a clay, and many a night was broken by unpleasant dreams. She was filled with regret for having so hastily refused his proffered visit. Yet had he come she would have been uneasy in his presence. She longed to see him again ; she came home from' driving or walk- ing each day with aching eyes and dulled heart because she had been disappointed in encountertng him. Yet she dreaded to meet him, and trembled at the idea of speaking to him. She was dismayed at the restless dissatisfaction of her own mind. Was she never to find peace? never to know real enjoyment in her ill-gotten fortune? Why was it that the image of this man was perpetually before her, the sound of his voice in her ears? Then the answer of her inner consciousness came to overwhelm her with shame and confusion : " Because you love him Avith all the strength and fervor of a heart that has never frittered away its force in senseless flirtations or pass- ing fancies." This was the climax of misfortune. To know that the one of all others she most looked up to must, in spite of his kind forbearance, despise her as a cheat. Surely it was a sufficient pun- ishment for a delicately proud woman to know that she had given her love unasked. All that remained for her was to hide her deep wounds, that by stifling the new and vivid feelings which troubled her they would 'die out, and so leave her in a state of monotonous repose/ She would endeavor by all possible means to win forgetful- ness. When Cis came back for the Christmas holidays, therefore, he found his auntie ready to go out with Charlie and himself to circus and pantomime, Polytechnic and wax- works, to his heart's content. It was not a brisk frosty Christmas, or she would no doubt have been with them on the ice, and the round of boyish dissipations called forth an oracular sentence from Miss Payne. " It's just as well those boys are going back to school, Katherine. You are more foolish about them than you used to be, and if they staid on you would com- pletely ruin them." Just before the holidays were over, Mrs. Ormonde visited London, or rather paused in passing through from the distinguished Christ- mas gathering to which, to her pride and satisfaction, she had Ix:;>n invited at Lady Mary Vincent's. The little boys were indifferently glad to see her, and with the jealousy inherent in a disposition such as hers she was vexed at not being first with her own boys, yet delighted to hand over the care and trouble of them to any one who Avould undertake it. Those mixed feelings ruffled the b-right sur- face of her self-content, inflated as it was by her increasing social success. She chose to put up at a quiet hotel in Dover Street rather than accept Katherine's and Miss Payne's joint invitation to Wilton Street. 208 A CROOKED PATH. "l know you will not mind, Katie dear," she said, as she sat at tea (to which refreshment she had invited her sister-in-law). "You see if it were your own house, quite your own, I should prefer stay- ing 1 with you to going anywhere else. As it is " You are quite right to please yourself," put in Katherine. " Yes, fibu are always kind and considerate. But, do vou know, both Colonel Ormonde^and I are very anxious you should establish yourself on a proper footing 1 . Believe me, you do not take the social position you ought, living with an obscure old maid like Miss Payne" this in a tone of strong common -sense. "The proper place for you is with us at Castleford in the autumn and winte'r, and a house "in town with us in the spring. Then you and I might go abroad sometimes together, and leave Ormonde to his turnips and hunting. You would be sure to many well quite sure." " But I am going to settle myself in a house of my own this spring," said Katherine, smiling. Against this project Mrs. Ormonde exhausted herself in eloquent if contradictory argument : but finding she made no impression, suddenly changed the subject. "That is a very expensive school you have chosen for the boys, Katherine. 'Duke thinks it ridiculous. Sixty pounds a year for such a little fellow as Cis ! and now Charlie will cost as much." "It is not cheap, certainly ; but it is, I think, worth the money. Cecil has improved marvellously, and Sandbourne agrees so well with them both." "You will do as you think best, of course. We have the highest regard for vour opinion. But you must remember that what with clothes and travelling and oh, and doctors 'it all comes to more than three hundred a year, and at Castleford I could keep them for next to nothing, while the stingy trustees you have chosen only allow me four hundred and fifty." " So you have only about a hundred and fifty out of the total for your personal expenses, eh?" said Katherine, laughing. " Then you nave a husband behind you." " Oh, I assure you that does not count for much. 'Duke doesn't care to spend money, and my having something of my own makes matters wonderfully smooth. I am sure you would not like to make any unhappiness between us." ' No, certainly not. I think it quite right, as my brother's widow, you should have something for yourself as long as you live." "You really have a great sense of justice, Katherine, I must say ! Living as you do, dear, you can form no idea what it costs to present an appearance when you are in a certain set." " I don't suppose I ever shall, though I like nice clothes too." " And look so well in them !" added Mrs. Ormonde, who was always ready, when she deemed it necessary, to burn the incense of flatteVy on her sister-in-law's shrine. " By4he-way, that is a very Eretty, well-made costume you have on. I think you are slighter lan you used to be." i CROOKED PATHi 209 "The effect of a good fit. I wish you would employ my dress- maker. She is verv moderate." "Is she?" A short discussion of prices followed, and Mrs. Ormonde de- clared she would call on Miss Trant that very afternoon and bespeak two dresses, for all she had were quite familiar to the eyes of her associates. "I suppose you have heard or seen nothing of De Burgh lately?'* exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, suddenly. " No, not for a long time." "He has been away somewhere in Hungary, hunting or shoot- ing- and then he has been staying with old Lord de Burgh. They used hardly to speak, and now he seems taken into favor He is a curious sort of man, and he can be so insolent ! How he will put his foot on people's necks when he gets the old man's title and wealth !" "If they let him," said Katherine, quieth . " As he is in town, 1 thought he might nave called on you. He was always running down to that stupid place in the summer, so "Mr. De Burgh !" said a waiter, opening the door with a burst. "Talk of an angel !" cried Mrs. Ormonde, rising to receive him with a welcoming smile. "My sister was just saying it was a long time since sha had seen you." Katherine felt annoyed at the thoughtless speech if it ions thought- less. However, she kept a composed air, though the varying color which she never could regulate told De Burgh that she was not unmoved. " And probably hoped it would be longer," he replied, as he shook hands with Mrs. Ormonde, but only bowed to Miss Liddell. "Don't answer him," cried the former; "such decided fishing- does not deserve success." "I will not," said Katherine, with a kind smile. She was too thorough a woman not to have a soft corner in her heart for the mail who had professed, with so convincing an air of sincerity, to love her with all his heart. It did not, however, seem to please or displease him, for he sat down beside th?. tea table with his usual unaffected ease, and ad- dressed his conversation to Mrs. Ormonde. " Just heard from Carew that you were in town, and I have only escaped from Pontygarvan, where I have been playing the dutiful kinsman to my immortal relative. I don't know which is most to be avoided, his enmity or his liking. He is an amusing old cynic at times, but a born d;;spot. He only let me away to prosecute a scheme tlvtt he has taken up, and which I have gone pretty deeply into mys.'lf." "Indeed !" exclaimed Mrs Ormonde, handing him some tea. "Have you turned promoter, or " " Well, I am going to b" 1 , my own promoter ; time only will show how I'll succeed. You must both give me your best wishes." " lam sure I do," said Mrs. Ormonde. De Burgh raised his eyes slowly to Katherine's. She had not 210 A CROOKED PATH. spoken. "Don't you wish me success? No; I thought you didn't." "I wish you all possible happiness," she said, in a low tone. "Have you quarrelled with .Katherine, or offended her, that she is BO implacable ?" asked Mrs. Ormonde. " Neither, I hope. Now what are you doing- in the way of amuse- ment ? Have you seen a play since you came up ? The panto- mimes are still on at the big theatres. But I want you to come and see Ours at the Prince of Wales on Thursday ; it's very good in parts. Then if you'll sup with me after, at my rooms, I'll get Carew and Brereton and one or two others to meot yon." " It would be very nice !" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde. "Thank you," returned Katherine. "I am, strange to say, going to a party on Thursday. " "To a party ! How extraordinary ! Where, Katherine?" "To Lady Barrington's a lady I knew in Florence, and who has invited me repeatedly." " I am sure I am very glad you are coming out of your shell at last. Where does this Lady Barrington live ?" " In Lancaster Square, not far from my abode." " Well, let us say Friday for Our."," said De Burgh ; "for I too am going to Lady Barring-ton's on Thursday." "Then why did you invite us for that evening?" cried Mrs. Or- monde. "I could have gone afterwards. Lady Barrington's gatherings are always late.'' " You 'really know every one." "Oh, not everv one, Mrs. Ormonde." "Then our 'play' is not to come off unless Katherine is to be of the party "rather pettishly. "If you like I will take you on Thursday, and Miss Liddell (if she will allow me) on Friday." " What nonsense ! We will all go together on Fridav. Katie, do you think this friend of yours would invite me? I don't care to mope here when you are out enjoying yourself." "I am sure she wcmld be very pleased to see you. I will write and ask her for an invitation as soon as I go home." Katherine rose as she spoke. " Do, like a good girl ; and I will go and interview this dressmaker of yours. Till to-morrow, then." The little woman stood on tiptoe to kiss her tall sister-in-law, who left the room, followed by De Burgh. "Haven't I been a reasonable, well-behaved fellow not to have haunted or worried you all these months? Will you let me come and tell you how wise and staid and prudent I have become?" he said. He spoke half in jest, but there was a wonderfully appealing look in his eyes. " I am very glad to hear it, Mr. De Burg-h. I hope you will go on and pro.sper." " And will you shut your doors against me if I call?" "No ; why should I?". A CROOKED PATH. 211 "Thanks! How heavenly it is to see you again! though you don't look quite as bright as you did at Sandbourne. Is this yout carriage? I see you have not started a turn-out of your own yet." "And never shall, probably." "Not, at all events, till you have appointed your ' master of the horse.' Good -by till to-morrw night." He handed her carefully into the brougham, and stood looking after it as she drove away. > ] . CHAPTEE XXIII. A WANDERER RETURNS. IT was quite an event in Katherine's quiet life to go to a party She had never been at one in Landon, and anticipated it with interest. Both in Florence and Paris she had mixed in society and greatly enjoved it. Now she felt a little curious as to the impression she might make and receive. Her nature was essentially vigorous and healthy, and threw off morbid feelings as certain chemicals repl others'inimical to them. She would have enjoyed life intensely but for the perpetually recurring sense of irritation against herself for having forfeited her own self-respect by her hasty action. It would have been somewhat humiliating to have taken charity from the hands of Errington, but this was as nothing to the crushing abase- ment of knowing that she had cheated him. Still, no condition of mind is constant except with monomaniacs and* Katherine was often carried away from herself and her troiibles. She was glad, on the whole, that De Burgh was to be at Lady Bar- rington's reception. Sue was too genial, too responsive, not to find admiration very acceptable. Nor could she believe that a man like De Burgh, hard! daring, careless, could suffer much or long through his affections! It flattered her woman's vanity, top, that with hc.f he dropped his cynical, mocking tone, and spoke with straightforward earnestness. He might have ended by interesting and flattering her till she loved him for he had a certain amount of attraction if her carefully resisted feeling for Errington had not created an antidote to the poison he might have introduced into her life. Altogether she dressed with something of anticipated pleasure, and was not displeased with the result of her toilette. Her dress was as deeply mourning as it was good taste to wear at an evening party. A few folds of gauzy white lisse softened the edge of her thick black silk corsage, a jet necklet and comb set off her snowy, velvety throat and bright golden brown hair. " I had no idea you would turn out so effectively !" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, examining her with a critical eye as they took off their wraps in the ladies' cloak-room. "Your dress might have been cut a little lower, dear ; with a long throat like yours it is very easy to keep within the bounds of decency. I wonder you do not buy yourself some diamonds ; they are so becoming:." 212 A CROOKED PATH. "I shall -wait for some one to give them to me," returned Kather- ine, laughing. " Quite right " very gravely " only if I were you I should make haste and decide on the ' some one.' " "Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell!" shouted the waiters from land- ing to door, and the next moment Lady Barrington, a large woman in black velvet and a fierce white cap in which glittered an aigret of diamonds, was welcoming them with much cordiality. " Very happy to see any friend of yours, my dear Miss Liddell ! I think I had the pleasure of meeting you, Mrs. Ormonde, at Lord Trevallan's garden-party last June ?" "Oh yes ; were you there?" with saucy surprise. "Algernon," continued Lady Barrington, motioning with her fan to a tall, thin youth. "My nephew, Mrs. Ormonde, Miss Liddell. I think Algernon had the pleasure of meeting you at Rome ?" Kath- erine howed and smiled. "Take Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell in and find them seats near the piano. Signer Bandolini and Madam Montebello are good enough to give us some of their charming duets, and are just going to begin. I was afraid vou n/i^-.it be late." So Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell were ushered to places of honor, and the music began. " I don't see a soul I know," whispered Mrs. Ormonde, presently. "Yet the women are well dressed and look nice enough, but the men are decidedly caddish." " London "is a large place, with room in it for all sorts and con- ditions of men. But we must not talk, Ada." Mrs. Ormonde was silent for a while ; and then opening her fan to screen her irrepressible desire to communicate her observations, resumed : ' ' I am sure I saw Captain Darrell in the doorway only for a minute, and he went away. I hope he will come and talk lo us. You were gone when he came back from leave to Monck- ton, I mean. He is rather amu " A warning " hush sh " inter- rupted her. " What rude, ill-bred people !" she muttered, under her breath. And soon the duet a new one, expressly composed to show off the vocal gymnastics of the signoreand madame came to an end ; there was a rustle of relief, and every one burst into talk. "How glad they are it is over !" said Mrs. Ormonde. "Look at that tall girl in pink. You see those sparkles in the roses on her corsage and in her hair ; they are all diamonds. I know the white glitter. What airs she gives herself ! I suppose she is an heiress, and, I dare say. not half as rich as you are." " Don't be too sure. I am no millionaire, " began Katherine, when she was interrupted by a voice she knew, which said, " I had no idea it was to be such a ghastly concern as this !" and turning, she found De Burgh close behind her. " What offends you?" she asked, smiling. " All this trilling and shrieking. There's tea or something going em down-stairs. You had better come away before they have a fresh burst ; they are carrying up a big liddle." 1 CROOKED PATU 213 "Tea !" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde. " Oh, do take me away to have some !" " Here, Darrell," said De Burgh, coolly, turning 1 back to speak to some one who stood behind him. "Here's Mrs. Ormonde dying for deliverance and tea. Come, do your devoir." Darrell hastened forward, smiling*, delighted. With a little pucker of the brow and lifting of the eyebrows Mrs. Ormonde ac- cepted his arm. "Now, Miss Liddell," said De Burgh, offering his ; and not sorry to escape from the heated, crowded room, Katherine took it and accompanied him down stairs. " I did not think you knew Lady Barrington," said Katherine, as he handed her an ice. "Know her? Never heard of her till you mentioned her nama the day before yesterday." " How did she come to ask you to her house, then ?" " Let me see. Oh, I went down to the club and asked if any one knew Lady Barrington, and who was going to her party. At last Darrell said he was a sort of relation, and that he would ask for a card. He did, and here I am." " But you said you were coming." " So I was. I made up my mind to come as soon as you said you were." " You are very audacious, Mr. De Burgh !" said Kath3rine, laugh- ing in spite of her intention to be rather distant with him. "Do you think so? Then I have earned tha character cheaply. Are they going to squall and fiddle all night? I thought it might turn into a dance." " I did not imagine yoti would condescend to dance." " Whv ? I used to like dancing, under certain conditions. Don't fancy I haven't an ear for music, Miss Liddell, because I said th3 performance upstairs was ghastly. I am very fond of music real sweet music. I liked your songs, and I should have liked a waits with you immensely. You know I never met you in society bo- fore" He stopped abruptly and looked at her from luadtofoot, with a comprehensive glance so full of the admiration he did not venture to speak that Katherine felt the color mount to her brow and and even spread over her white throat, while an odd sense of uneasy distress fluttered her pulses. She only said, indifferently : "I might not prove a good partner. I have never danced much." " I might give you a lesson in that too, as well as in handling the ribbons. And for that there will be a grand opportunity next week. Lord De Burgh is coming up, and I shall have the run of his stables, which I will take good care shall be well filled. We'll have out a smart pair of cobs, and you shall take them round the Park every morning, till you are n't to give all the other women whips the go-by." " Da you seriously believe such a scheme possible?" " It shall be if you say yes. Do vou know that you have brought me luck ? You have, 'pon my soul ! I am A-l with old De Burgh, and I won a pot of money up in Yorkshire, paid a lot of debts, sold 214 A CROOKED PATH. my horses. Now, don't you think you ought to be interested in your man Friday? You remember our last meeting- at Sandbourne hey? D'cn't you think I am going- to succeed all along the line?" " It is impossible to say," returned Katherine. "You know there is a French proverb " She stopped, not liking 1 to repe it it us she suddenly remembered the application. " Yes, I do know the lying Gallic invention! Heureux an Jen, nialhi itrmx en amour. I don't believe it. If luck's with you, all goes well ; but then Fortune is such a fickle jade !" " I trust you will always be fortunate, Mr. De Burgh," said Kath- erine, gently. " I like to hear you sav so. Now I don't often let my tongue run on as it has, but if you'll be patient and friendly, I'll be as mild and inoffensive as a youngster fresh from school." "Very well," said Katherine, smiling and confused. Here she was interrupted by the sudden approach of Mrs. Needham, her dark eyes gleaming with pleased recognition, and her high color height- ened by the heat of the rooms. She was gorgeous in red satin, black lace and diamonds. "My dear Miss" Liddell ! I have been looking- for you everywhere ! I want so much to speak to you about a project I have for starting a new weekly paper, to be called The Woman's Weekly. There is an empty sofa in that little room at the other side of the ha'l. Do come, and I will explain it all. It is likely to do a great deal of good, and to be a paying concern into th .' bargain. You will excuse me for running away with Miss Lid- d -11 " to De Burg-h "but we have some matters "to discuss. We s iall meet you upstairs afterwards." She swept Katherine away, while De "Burg-h stood scowling. Who was this audacious pirate who had cut out his convoy from under the fire of his angry e/es? "You see, my dear," commenced Mrs. Needham, in a low voice and speaking rapidly, " there is an immense field to be cultivated in the humble strata of the better working-class, and the paper I ^ish to establish will be quite different from The Queen, more use- ful and less than half-price. No stuff about fashionable marriages in print that is enough to blind an eagle, but useful receipts and. work patterns, domestic information, and a storv a story is a great point a description of any great events, and fashion plates, etc." And she poured forth a "torrent of what she was pleased to term " facts and fig-ures " till Katherine felt fairly bewildered. "It seems a great undertaking. ' she replied, when she could get a word in. " I shall require a great deal of explanation before I can comprehend it. Will you not co\*\e and see me when we shall be alone, and we can discuss it quietly ?" " Certainly, my dear Miss Liddell to-morrow. No ; to-morrow I have about seven or eight engagements between two and six-thirty. Let me see. I am terribly pressed just now ; I will write and fix some morning if you will come and lunch with me. If you could see your way to taking a few shares it would be a great help. Money monev money. Without the filthy lucre nothing- can be begun or ended. Now tell me how you have' been. I have been coming; to A CROOKED PATH. 215 '.see you for months, but never get a moment to myself ; but I have heard of you from Mr. Payne. AVhat a good fellow he is ! How is Miss Payne?" Katherine replied, and Mrs. Needham rushed on: "Nice party, isn't it? There are several literary people here to- night. I did not know Lady Barring-ton went in for literary society, hut one picks up a little of all sorts when you live abroad fora while. llciv is a very interesting man. He is coming- very much to the front as a political and philosophic writer. It is said he is to be the editor of '1 lie Empire, that new monthly which they say is to take the lead of all the magazines. I met him at Professor "Kean's last week. I don't think he sees me Good-evening! Don't think you remember me Mrs. Needham. Had the pleasure of meeting you at Professor Kean's last Monday. Mr. Errington, Miss Liddell !" ' ' I have already the pleasure of knowing Miss Liddell, " he returned, with a grave smile and stately bow, as he took the hand Katherine hesitatingly held out. "Oh, indeed; I was not aware of it." Erri-ngton stood talking with Mrs. Needham, or, rather, answering her rapid questions respecting a variety of subjects, until she suddenly recognized some one to whom she was imperatively compelled to speak. With a hasty, "Will you be so good as to take Miss Liddell to her friends?" she darted away with surprising lightness and rapidity, considering her size and solidity. " Would you like to go upstairs?" asked Errington. " If yon please." Katherine was quivering with pain and pleas- ure at rinding herself thus virtually alone with the man whose image haunted her in spite of her constant determined efforts to banish "it from her mind. On the first landing was a conservatory prettily lit and decorated, and larger than those ordinarily appended to London houses. " Sup- pose we rest here," said Errington. " From the quiet which reigns above, I think some one is reciting and that is not an exhilarating style of amusement." " I should think not. I have never heard any one attempt to recite in England." " May you long be preserved from the infliction ! There are very fc,w who can make recitation endurable." Aft'.-r some enquiries for Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde, and a few observations on the beautiful, abundant flowers, Errington said: "Won't you sit down? If it is not unpleasant to you, I should like to improve this occasion, as I rarely have an opportunity of see- ing- you." Katherine complied, and sat down on a settee which was behind a cenfrral group of tall feathery ferns. She was another creature from the bright and somewhat coquettish girl who was always ready to answer De Burgh or Colonel Ormonde with keen prompt wit. Silent, downcast, scarcely able to raise her eyes to Errington's, yet too fasci- nated to resist his wish to continuethmr interview. " I am very glad to meet you here," began Errington in his calm, melodious voice. "It is so much better for you to mix with your kind ; it has a wholesome, humanizing influence, and may I venture to say that you are inclined to be morbid.?" 216 A CROOKED PATH. " Can you wonder?" said Katharine, soft and low. " Yes, I do. There is no reason why you should not be bright and happy, and enjoy the goods the gods ' " No," she interrupted, playing nervously with the flowers in her bouquet : " not given by the gods ! Stolen from you !" She did not raise her eyes as she spoke. " I do beg you to put that incident out of your mind. We have arranged the question of succession, as only I" had a right to do. No one else need know, and you will, I am sure, make a most excellent use of what is now really yours. Forget the past, and allow me to be your friend. " "lam always thinking of you," she said, almost in a whisper. " Yet it is always a trial to meet you. I think I would rather not. Tell me," with a sudden impulse of tenderness and contrition, look- ing up to him with humid eyes, " are you well and happy ? How have you borne the the terrible change in your life ?" " I am perfectly well and quite happy," returned Errington, with a slight smile. "The terrible change, as you term it, has a Tected me very little. I find real work most exhilarating, and slight success is sweet. Since I knew that the tangle of my poor father s a fairs was satisfactorily unravelled, I have been at ease, comparatively. Life has many sides. I miss most my horses. " "Ah, yes, you must miss them ! Well, from what I hear, you seem to'be making a place for vourself in literature. I ami so glad !" " Thank you. And you, may I ask, what are your plans?" " If you are so good as to care, I am going to take a house and make a home for myself and my little nephews. Without any for- mal agreement, Mrs. Ormonde leaves them very much to me. They are a great interest to me. And as you are so kind in wishing me to be happy and not morbid, I will try to forget. I think I could be happier if you would promise me something." " What?" "If ever '' She hesitated ; her voice trembled. "If you ever want anything," she hurried on, nervously, "anything, even to the half of my kingdom, you will deign to accept it from me?" " I will," said Errington, with a kind and, as Katherine imagined, a condescending smile. " He thinks me a weak, impulsive child, who must be forgr : because she is scarcely responsible," she said to herself. "And this preliminary settled, you will admit me to the honor of your acquaintance?" "Oh, Mr. Errington, do not think me ungrateful. But can you not understand that, good and generous as you are, your presence overwhelms me ?" " Then I will not intrude upon you. Gently and very gravely I accept your decree." They were silent for a moment ; then Katherine said, " I was sure you would understand me." As she spoke, De Burgh suddenly came round the group of ferns and stood before them with an air of dis- pleased surprise. "Why, Miss Liddell ! I thought that desperate filibuster in red. A CROOKED PATH. 217 satin had carried you off. I have sought you high and low. How d'ye do, Erring-ton ? Haven't seen you this age. Mrs. Ormonde wants to go home, Miss Liddell." " I suppose the recitation is over," said Errington, coolly. "I will take Miss Liddell to Mrs. Ormonde, whom I have not seen for some time." De Burgh, therefore, had nothing for it but to walk after the man whom he at once decided was a dangerous rival, as indeed he would have considered any one in the rank of a gentleman. Mrs. Ormonde was quite charmed to see Errington. She had put him rather out of her mind. It was a pleasant surprise to meet him once more in society, for she had a sort of dim idea his ruin was so complete that he must have sold his dress clothes to provide food, and could never, therefore, hold up his head in society again. " It is quite nice to see you once more !" she exclaimed, with a sweet smile, after they head exchanged greetings. "Colonel Or- monde will be delighted to hear of you. I wish you could come down for a few days' hunting. Do give me your address, and Duke will write to you." " There is my address," he said, taking out his card case and giving her a card ; "but I fear there is little chance of my getting out of town till long after the hunting is over." "Oh, you must try. At all events, come and see me. I am at Thome's Hotel, Dover Street, and almost always at home about five. But I leave town next week." Here the hostess sailed up, and touching Erringtpn's arm, said "Sir Arthur Haynes, the great authority on international law, you know, wants to be introduced to you, Mr. Errington." Mrs. Ormonde took the opportunity of saying grod -night, and Katherine took farewell of Errington with a bow. " Twenty -four, Sycamore Court Temple. What a come-down for him !" said Mrs. Ormonde, looking at the card she held, when they reached the cloak-room. " He seems cheerful enough,'' said Katherine, irritated at the tone in which the observation was made : "and I thought the Temple was rather a smart place to live in." "I am sure I don't know. Come, it must be late. What a stupid party ! How cross De Burgh looks ! I am sure he has a horrid temper." In the hall Captain Darrell and De Burgh awaited them. The latter was too angry to speak. He handed Katharine into the car- riage, and uttering a brief good-night, stepped back to make way for Captain Darrell, who expressed his pleasure at having met Mrs. Ormonde, and begged to be allowed to call next day. On the whole. Katherine felt comforted by the assurance of Er- rington's friendly filling toward her. How cruel it was to be obliged thus to reject his kindly advances! But it was wiser. If she met him often, what would become of her determination to steel her heart against the extraordinary feeling he had awakened? Be- sides, it could only be the wonderful patient benevolence of his nature which made him take any notice of her. In his own mind 218 A CROOKED PATH. contempt could be the only feeling- she awakened. No ; the less she saw of him, the better for her. By the time De Burgh called to escort Katherine and Mrs. Or- monde (who had dined with her) to the theatre he had conquered the extreme, though unreasonable, annoyance which had seized him on finding Errington and Katherine in apparently confidential con- versation. He exerted himself therefore to be an agreeable host with success. A play was the amusement of all others which delighted Kather- ine and drew her out of herself. De Burgh was diverted and Mrs. Ormonde half ashamed of the profound interest, the entire attention, with which she listened to the dialogue and awaited the denoue- ment. " I should have thought you had seen too much good acting abroad to be so delighted with this," said Mrs. Ormonde. "But this is excellent, and the style is so new I have to thank you, Mr. De Burij'h, for a delightful evening." " The same to you," he returned. " Seeing you enjoy it so much woke me up to the merits of the thing." The supper was bright and lively. Three men besides himself, and a cousin, a pretty, chatty woman of the orld, completed De Burgh's party. There was plenty of laughing and chuffing. Kath- erine felt seized by a feverish desire to shake off dull care, to forget the past, to be as other women were. There was no reason why she should not. So she hiughed and talked with unusual animation, and treated her host with kindly courtesy, that set his deep eyes aglow with hope and pleasure. " It is a great advantage to be rich," said Mrs. Ormonde, reflec- tively, as she leaned comfortably in the corner of the carriage which conveyed her and her sister-in-law home. She was always a little nettled when she found how completely Katherine had effaced her- self from De Burgh's fickle mind. She had been highly pleased with the idea of having her husband's distinguished relative for a virtuous and despairing adorer, and his desertion had mortified her con- siderably. " Yes, money is certainly a great help," returned Katherine, scarce heeding what she said. " It certainly has been to you, Katie. Don't think me disagree- able for suggesting it, but do you suppose De Burgh would show you all this devotion if you were to lose your money ?" "Oh no ! He could not afford it/ He told me he must marry a rich woman." "Did he, really ? It is just like him. What audacity ! I wonder you ever spoke to him again. Then you are going in for rank, Katherine ?'* " How can you tell ? I don't know myself. Good-night. I shall tell you whenever I know my own mind." " "She is as close as wax, with all her frankness," thought Mrs. Ormonde as she went up to her room, after taking an affectionate leave of her sister-in-law. The boys at school, Katherine found time hung somewhat heavily on her hands a condition of things only too favorable to though't A CROOKED PATS, 219 and visions of what " might have been." So, with the earnest hope of finding 1 the exhilarations which might lead, through forgetfulness, to the happiness she so eageraly craved, Katherine accepted almost all the invitations which were soon showered upon her. At the houses of acquaintances she had made abroad she made numerous new ones, who were quite ready to fete the handsome, sweet -voiced, pleasant-mannered heiress, who seemed to think so little about her- self. "Just the creature to be imposed upon, my dear !" as each Another whispered to the one next her, thinking, of course, of the other's son. But her most satisfactory hours were those spent with Rachel, when they talked of the business, and often branched off to more abstract subjects. To the past they never alluded. Katherine was flad to see that the dead, hopeless expression of Rachel Trant's eyes ad changed, yet not altogether for good. A certain degree of alert- ness had brightened them, but with it had come a hard, steady look, as though the spirit within had a special work to do, and was steeled and " straitened till it be accomplished." " You are quite a clever accountant, Rachel," said Katherine, one afternoon in fidy -. i yil, after they had gone through the books together. " You' have been established nearly five months, and you have paid expenses and a trifle over." " It is not bad. Then, you see, the warehouses will give me credit for the next orders, three months' credit, and my orders are increas- ing. I am sure it is of great importance to have materials for customers to choose from. Ladies like to be saved the trouble of shopping, and I can give a dress at a more moderate rate, if I pro- vide everything, than they can buy it piecemeal. I hope to double the business this season, and pay you a good percentage. Even on credit I can venture to order a fair supply of goods." "Don't try credit yet, Rachel," said Katherine, earnestly. "I can give voii a check "now, and after this you can stand alone." 'Are you quite sure you can do this without inconvenience ?" asked Rachel. "If vou can, I will accept it. I begin to feel sure I shall be able to develop a good business and what will prove valuable property to you. It is an ambition that has quite filled my heart, and in devoting myself to it I have found the first relief from despair a despair that i>ossessed my soul whenever you were out of my sight. When I am not thinking of gowns and garnitures, I am adding up all the money you have sunk in this adventure, and planning how it may ultimately pay you six per cent, over and above expenses. It does not sound a very heroic style of gratitude, but it is practical, and 1 believe feasible." "You are intensely real," said Katherlae, "and I believe yo' will be successful." After discussing a few more points connected with the undertak- ing they parted, and before Katherine dressed for dinner she wrote and despatched the promised check. De Burgh had throughout this period conducted himself with pru- dence and discretion. He often called about tea-time, and frequently managed to meet Katherine in the evening, but he carefully main? 220 A CROOKED PATH. tained a frank, friendly tone, even when expressing- in his natural brusque way his admiration of herself or her dress. He talked pleasantly tolMiss Payne, and subscribed to many of Bertie's charities. Katharine was getting 1 quite used to him, though they disagreed and argued a good deal. She sometimes tried to persuade herself that De Burgh had given up his original pretentious and would be satis- tied with platonics. But her inner consciousness rejected the theory. Still, De Burgh came to be recognized as a favored suitor by society, and the " mothers, the cousins, and the aunts " of eligible young men shook their heads over the mistake she was making-. Now, after mature consideration, Katherine determined to make the will she had so long postponed, and bequeath all she possessed to Errington. It was rather a formidable undertaking to announce this intention to Mr. Newton, who would be sure to be surprised and interrogative, but she would do it. Having, therefore, made an appointment with him, she screwed up her courage and set out, accompanied by Miss Payne, who had been laid up with a cold, and was venturing out for the first time. She took advantage of Katherine's brougham to have a drive. The morning wa- very line, and they started early, early enough to allow Miss Payne to leave the carriage and walk a little in the sun on "the Ladies' Mile." As they proceeded slowly along, a well-appointed phaeton and pair of fine steppers passed them. It was occupied by two gentlemen, one old, gray, bent, and closely wrapped up ; the other vigorous, dark, erect, held the reins. He lifted his hat as he passed Katherine and her companion with a swift, pleased smile. "Who are those women ?" asked the old gentleman, in a thick growl. " Miss Liddell and her companion." "Bv George! she looks like a gentlewoman. Turn, and let us pass them again." De Burgh obeyed, and slackened speed as he went by. At tb.3 sound of the horses' tramp Katherine turned her head and gave De Burgh a bright smile and gracious bow. " She is wonderfully good-looking for an heiress," remarked Lord de Burgh, who was, of course, the wrapped-up old gentleman. "I should say something for you if you could show such a woman with sixty or seventy thousand behind her as your wife. Why don t you go in and win? Don't let the grass grow under your feet." "It is easier said than done. Miss Liddell is not an ordinary sort of young lady ; she is not to be hurried. But I do not despair, by any means, of winning her yet. If I press my suit too .soon, I may lose my chance. Trust me, it won't be my fault if I fail." " I see .. ou are in earnest," said the old 'man, "and I believe you'll win." De Burgh nodded, and whipped up his horses. "That must be the old lord," said Miss Payne, as the phaeton passed out of sight. "Mr. De Burgh seems in high favor. I cannot help liking him myself. There is no nonsense about him, and he is quite a gentleman in spite of his brns- querie." A CROOKED PATH. 221 "Yes, I think he is," said Katherine, thoughtfully, and walked on a little while in silence. Then Miss Payne said she felt tired ; so they got into the carriage again and drove to Mr. Newton's office. There Katherine alighted, and desired the driver to take Miss Payne home and return for herself. "And what is your business to-day ?" asked Mr. Newton, when, after a cordial greeting, his fair client had taken a chair beside his knee-hole table." "A rather serious matter, I assure you. I want to make my will." "Very right, very right ; it will not bring you any nearer your last hour and it ought to be done." The lawyer drew a sheet of paper to him, and prepared to " take instructions." "I should like to leave several small legacies," began Katherine, " and have put down the names of those I wish to remember, with the amounts each is to receive. If you read over this paper " (hand- ing it to him) " we can discuss " She was interrupted by a tap at the door which faced her, but was on Newton's left. A high screen protected theold lawyer from draughts, and prevented him from seeing who entered until the visitor stood before him. " Come in," said Newton, peevishly : and as a clerk presented him- self, added, "What do you want?" "Beg pardon, sir. A gentleman downstairs wants to see you so very particularly that he insisted on my coming up." "Weil, say I can't. I am particularly engaged. He must wait." While he spoke Katherine saw a man cross the threshold, a tall, gaunt man, slightly stooped. His clothes hung loosely on him, but they were new and good. His hair was iron gray, and thin on his craggy temples. Something about his watchful, stern eyes, his close-shut mouth, and strong, clean-shaven jaw seemed not unfamiliar to Katherine, and she was strangely struck and interested in his aspect. Mr. Newton's last words evidently reached his ear, for he answered, in deep, harsh tones, " No, Newton, I will not wait !" and walked in, pausing exactly opposite the lawyer, who grew grayly pale, and starting from his seat, leaned both hands on the table, while he trembled visibly. "My God!" he exclaimed, hoarsely; " George Liddell !" " Ay, George Liddell ! I thought you would know me." CHAPTER XXIV. A TRAVELLER' s STORY. WHEN these startling sentences penetrated to Katherine's compre- hension she saw as with a flasli their far-reaching consequences. Her uncle's will suppressed, his son and natural heir would take every- thing. And her dear boys how would they fare? 222 A CROOKED PATH. She sat with wide-dilated eyes, gazing- at the hard, displeased face of this unwelcome intruder. There were a few moments of profound silence ; the old lawyer's hands, which relaxed their grasp of his chair as he looked with startled amazement at his late client's son, visibly trembled. Liddell was the first to speak. "So you thought I was dead and out of the way," he said, with a sneer ; " that nothing would happen to disturb th i fortunate possessor of my father's m niey. I was dead and done for, and a good riddance. 1 ' "But how how is it that you are alive!" stammered Mr. Newton. "Oh, that I can easily account for." And he looked round for a chair. " Yes, pray sit down," said Mr. Newton, recovering himself. Here Katharine, with the unconscious tact of a sensitive woman, feeling how terrible it must be to find one's continued existence a source of regret to others, rose and held out her hand. " Let me, your kinswoman," she said, " welcome you back to life and home. I hope there are many happy years before you." Liddell was greatly surprised. He mechanically took the hand offered to him, and looking earnestly into her face, exclaimed, "Who are you?" " Katherine Liddell, your uncle Frederic's daughter." He dropped indeed, almost threw her hand from him. " What!" he cried, "are you the supplanter, who took all without an inquiry, without an effort to lind out if I were dead or alive ?" " Sit down sit down sit down," repsated Newton, still confused. "Let us talk over everything. As to trying to find you, we never dreamed of finding you, considering that twelve, fourteen years ago we had an account of your death from au eye witness." " Cowardly liar ! It was worth a Jew's ransom to see him turn white and drop into a chair when 1 confronted him the day before yesterday." "Why did you not communicate with me on hearing of your father's death ?" " When do you think I heard of it? Do you fancy I sat down in the midst of niy busy day to pore over the births, deaths, and mar- riages in a paper, like a gossiping woman? Kith and kin were d ad to me loug ago. What did J care for English papers? What had mv life or the life of my poor mother been that 1 should give those 1 had left behind a thought?" He paused, and taking a chair, looked \vr\ straight at Katherine. "Now I shall tell you my story, once for all, to show you that there is no use in disputing my rights. You know "addressing Newton "how my life was made a burden to me, and that I ran away to sea, ready to throw myself into it rather than return to my miserable home. After several voyages I found mysalf at Sydney. A young fellow who had b'.;,;n my m;ite on the voyage outran active, clever chap, proposed that we should start for the gold fields ; so we started. It was a desperate long tramp, but we reached them at last. Life was hard and rough, and for a time we worked and worked, and got nothing. At last we found a pocket, just as we were going to give up, and having secured a A CROOKED PATH. 223 fair lot of gold, we divided our "gains and determined to leave the camp, which was not too safe for a successful digger, before the rest knew of our treasure-trove. We decided to trudge it to the nearest place where we could buy horses, and then to make our way to Sydney as fast as we could. Somehow it must have got out that we had gold, for as the dusk of evening was closing round us on the second day of our march we were attacked by some men on horseback bush- rangers, I suppose. We showed fight, and I was hit in the shoulder. At the same time I stumbled over a stump, and pitched on to my head, which stunned me. Just then, it seems, the sound of horses approaching frightened the scoundrels, and they made off. My mate, not knowing whether the new-comers were friends or foes, he says, got away as fast as h \ could. His story is that as soon as all was still he crept back, and finding me apparently quite dead, went on to report the catastrophe at the first road-side inn he came to. I believe that, thinking me dead, he took all my gold, and said precious little about me." "His story to me," interrupted Mr. Newton, "was that he got assistance and buried your remains as decently as he could." "What induced him to apply to you at all?" " I do not know, I fancy it was to hand over a few small nugg-ets, which he said was your share of the findings, and which he took from your waistband before committing you to the grave. As he seemedfrank and straightforwardand quite poor, I confess I believed him, and even requested Mr. Liddell to give him some small present. He said he was going afloat again, and would sail in a few days. He had an old clasp knife which I myself had given you, and with it a small pocket-book in which your name and my address were written in your own hand. These were tolerably convincing proofs that he at least knew you. Moreover, there seemed no need what- ever that ho should have made any attempt to communicate with your people. He might have held his tongue, and no question would have been raised respecting you." "You are right," returned Liddell, bitterly. "And how did you escape ?" asked Catherine, with eager interest. "He this Tom Dunford did go to the next inn and told of the attack ; he even guided some men to the spot, and left them to burv me, because he was obliged to hurry on to Sydney ; but I believe he returned, before going to the inn, and robbed me. Anyhow I was not killed by the bullet, but stunned by the fall. Some of the fellows who came with Tom fancied I did not seem quite dead. Finally I recovered, and instead of digging for gold myself, got others to dig for me. I setup an inn and a store, with the help of an American whose daughter I married, and now I am rich enough to be a for- midable foe. I have a little girl, and when my wife died I determined to realize everything, to come to England, and have the chi Id brought upas an English lady. On the voyage home I fell in with a man a fellow of the rolling-stone order to whom I used to talk now and again. He turned out to be the brother of one of your clerks, and from him I heard that my father had died intestate, that my 224 A CROOKED PATS. cousin had taken possession of everything 1 , and that I was looked upon as dead. Did you never attempt to prove the truth of Tom Dunford's storv ?'' " We did. 1 communicated with the police of Sydney, and they found that there had been a fight between bush-rangers and diggers returning from Woollamaroo at the time and place specified ; more- over, that one of the diggers was killed, while the other Scaped, but further nothing was known. The man who kept the inn mentioned by Dunford had made money and moved off, so the track was broken. Then all these years you made no sign. Did you not see the adver- tisements I put in an Australian paper?" " No ; I was far away from any town, and rarelv saw any but the American papers which came to my master. Well, here I am, de- termined to have every inch of my rights, let who will stand in my way ; and you" looking- fiercely into Newton's eyes "shall be my first witness." "I cannot denv that I recognize you," said Newton, reluc- tantly. Liddell laughed scornfully. "And you?" turning to Kath- erine. " I have no doubt you are my cousin Georg-e." " Right ! As to that fellow Tom he would never have hurt me, but I am sure he robbed me, especially if he thought I was dead. His gai^e was to hold himself harmless whether I lived or died, only he ought not to have committed himself to seeing me buried. I found him out in Liverpool, and gave him a fright, for he really believed me dead. Now, cousin, I hope vou understand that I mean to take every farthing of my father's fortune. He never did me much good in my life, nor my poor mother either, and I am deter- mined to get all I can out of what he has left behind him. But I never dreamed he could pass away without taking- care that nothing should come to me. It is strange that your mother and my uncle should make no fresh attempt to discover me." "We had looked upon you as dead for years, and my father had 1 died before the news of your supposed murder reached us." Kath- erine could hardly steady her voice ; she was burning- to get away. "I beg- you will not resent the fact of my most unconscious .isurpa- tion. I would not do anything unjust.'' " She stopped, remembering- what she had done. Surely the punishment was coming ouick upon, her. " Ay," said George Liddell, looking sternly at her. " It is a bitter pill for a fine lady like you to swallow, to find a ragged outcast like' me thrusting you from the place vou have no right to, where; mv poor little wild untutored girl will take her stand in spite of.! you all." " From what I have heard, I do not think my father or mother] ever treated you as an outcast," said Katherine, with quiet dig-nitv ;] adding, as she rose to leave them, " You seem so irritated agaiiiat] me I will leave you with Mr. Newton, who will, I know, act as a true] friend to both of us." Mr. Newton, with a grave and troubled face, hastened *for to ttj A CROOKED PATH. * ' 225 her to her carriage. "This is an awful blow!" he said, in a low- voice. "It is, no doubt. Do you think, as he is already rich, that he might do something for the boys ? Then I should not care." " The boys !" impatiently. " You need not trouble about them when he has the power to >.%'. you even of the trifle you inherit from your father by demanding the arrears of income since your uncle's death, as he has the right to do. Why, he can beggar you !" "Indeed ! He looks like a hard man ; he is like his father." "Well, trust me, I will do my best for you." " I know you will," returnee! Katherine, pressing the old lawyer's hand as he leaned against th j caiviage door. "Good-by ! God bless you !" he returned ; and Katherine was carried away from him. Slowly and sadly the old man ascended to his office again to confront the angry claimant, who awaited him impatiently. Meantime Katherine was striving to think clearly, to rouse her- self from the stunned, bewildered condition into which the appear- ance of George Liddell had thrown her, and which Mr. Newton's words increased. What was to become of Cis and Charlie if she were beggared? She could not face the prospect. There was still a way of escape left, a glimpse of which had been given to her as she listened to her cousin's vindictive utterances. If she could prevail on Errington to produce the will and assert his right, he would pro- vide for those poor innocent boys, and never ask her for any of the money she had spent. Maybe he would share with George himself. She must see Errington at once, and with the strictest secrecy. Her thoughts cleared as, bit by bit, her plan unfolded itself in her busy brain. Then she made up her mind. Touching the check-string, she desired the driver to stop at a small fancy ware and stationer's shop near Miss Payne's house. Arrived there, she dismissed the carriage, saying she would walk home. " Give me paper and an envelops; I want to write a few lines," she said to the smiling shopwoman, who knew her to be one of their best customers. Having traced a few words entreating Errington to see her early- next day should he happ.-n to be out or engaged she hailed a han- some, and went as quickly as she could to his lodgings in the Temple. It was quite different, this second visit, from the first. He now knew all, and in spite of her fears and profound uneasiness she felt a thrill of pleasure at the idea of the necessity for taking counsel with him, the prospect of half an hour's undisturbed communication, of hearing his voice, and feeling his kind forgiving glance. Still it was an awful trial too to tell him the upshot of her dishonesty, the confusion she had wrought by her deviation into a crooked path. She was trembling from head to foot by the time she reached Er- rington 's abode. A severe-looking woman, a care-taker apparently, was on the stair as Katherine ascended, feeling dreadfully puzzled what to do, *? 226 ' A CROOKED PATH. she feared kaving 1 to knock in vain and go away without leaving her note. " Can you tell me if Mr. Erring-ton is at home ?" she asked, timidly, quite frightened at the souna of her own voice in so strange a place. " I am sure I don't know, miss. I dare say he's gone out. He is up the next flight." " May I ask you to inquire if he is in ? If not, would you be so kind as to leave this note ?" The woman took it with a rather discontented suspicious air, but finding it was accompanied by a coin of the realm, went on her errand with great alacrity. Katherine followed slowly. " You're to walk up at once ; he's hin," said the emissary, meet- ing her at the top of the stair. At the deor stood Errington, her note in his hand, and a serious, uneasy expression on his countenance. Katherine was very white ; her eyes were dilated with a look of fear and distress. " Pray come in," said Errington ; and he closed the door behind her. " I fea.r you are in some difficulty. You can speak without reserve ; I am quite alone.' 1 Katherine was aware of passing through a small room with doors right and left, and possessing only a couple of chairs and a small table ; through this Errington led her to his sitting-room, which was almost lined with books, and comfortably furnished. He placed a chair for her, and returned to his own seat by a table at which he had been writing. "The last time I came it was in the hope of assisting you by my confession ; now I have come to beg for your help " She stopped abruptly. " My uncle's son George, who was believed to have been killed by bush-rangers in Australia more than fourteen years ago, has returned, alive and well." " But can he prove his identity?" "I v, as with Mr. Newton when became into the office, and the moment Mr. Newton saw him he started up, exclaiming, 'George Liddell !' and I I saw the likeness to his father." "Did Newton know him formerly?" "Yes ; he seems to have been almost his only friend." " How was it he did not put in an appearance and assert his rights before?" "I will tell you all." And she went on to describe the interview which had just taken place, the curious vindictive spirit which her cousin displayed, his very recent knowledge of his father's death, and Mr. Newton's words*bf warning, "He has the power to rob you even^of the trifle you inherit from your father, by demanding' the arrears of income'since your uncle's death ; hi; can beggar you." "No doubt he can, but surely he will not!" exclaimed Er- '^It seems to me that if he can he will. To give him up that which is his is quite right, and will not cost me a pang ; but to be penniless, to send back my poor dear little boys, to be considered and treated as burdens by their mother and Colonel Ormonde oh, I cannot bear it ! Ikuow'hpw Charlie would be crushed and Cecil A CROOKED PATH. 227 know.' " The will !" exclaimed Erring-ton, starting- up and pacing- the room in great ag-itation. "My God! I have destroyed it. Think- ing- it safer for you that it should be out of the way, I destroyed it, and by so doing- 1 have g-iven you, bound hand and foot, into the power of this man. Can you forgive me? can you ever forgive, me?" He took and wrung- her hand, holding- it for a moment, \\Lile he looked imploringly into her eyes. " Oh yes, I do heartily forgive you. You only did it to save me from any chance of discovery. If only Georg-e Liddell will be satis- fied not to claim the money 1 have spent, I may still be able to keep the boys, for I have nearly a hundred and fifty pounds a year quite my own," cried Katherine, loosing- her hand. "Do not distress yourself, Mr. Erring-ton. I know Mr. Newton will do his best for me, and perhaps my cousin will not exact the arrears. He says he is rich, and if I g-ive him no trouble" she paused, for she could not command her voice, while the tears were already glittering- in her eyes. Another word and they would have been rolling down her cheeks. " Don't cry, for God's sake !" said Errington, in a low tone, resuming his seat. "What can be done to soften this fellow? Ah ! Miss Liddell, we are quits now. If you robbed me, I have ruined you." "From what different motives !" said Katherine, recovering her self-control. " / am still the wrong-doer." How heavenly sweet it was to be consoled and sympathized with by him ! But she dared not stay. It was terribly bold of her to have come to his rooms, only he would never misjudge her, and she was so little known she scarcely feared recognition by any one she might meet. "Could I assist Mr. Newton at all in dealing with this kins- man of yours?" resumed Errington, gazing at her with a troubled look. "I fear you could not. How are you to know anything of my troubles ? No one dreams that you have any knowledge of my affairs ; that you and you only are aware what an impostor I am." "You are expiating your offence bitterly. But when the story of this George Liddell comes out, why should I not, as the son of his father's old friend, make his acquaintance, and try to persuade him to forego his full rights?" "You might try," said Katherine, dejectedly. "Now I have trespassed long enough. I must go. I have to explain matters to Miss Payne, and I feel curiously dazed. Oh, if I can keep the boys !" " If any effort of mine can help you, it is my duty as well as my sincere pleasure to do all I can." *' Ana if the will existed would you have acted on it ?" 228 A CROOKED PATH. "Most certainly in your defence." " Ah !" cried Katherine, her eyes lighting- up, her tremulous lips parting in a smile. " Then you would have had some of the money too." " Then you quite forgive me ?" again rising, and coming over to stand beside her. " You must feel I do, Mr. Errington. Now I will say goed-by. If you can help me with George, I shall be most grateful/" " Promise that you will look on me as one of your most devoted friends, He took her hand again. "Can you indeed feel friendship for one you cannot respect?" she returned, in a low tone, with one of the quick, vivid blushes which usually rose to her cheek when she was much moved. "But I do respect you. Why should I not? A generous, impulsive woman like you cannot" be judged by the cold max- ims of exact justice ; you must be triea by the' higher rules of equity." "You comfort me," said Katherine, with indescribably sweet graceful humility. " I thank you heartily, and will say good-by." "I will come and see you into a cab," returned Errington, feeling himself anxious that no one should recognize her, and not knowing when their tete-a-tete might be interrupted. They went out together, and walked a little way is silence. " You will lei; me come and see you, to hear " began Erring-ton, when Katherine interrupted him. " Not just now. I think we had better not seem to know anything of each other, or perhaps George Liddell may suspect you of being my friend. " "I see. But at least you will keep me informed of how things go on. Remember how tormented I am with remorse for my hasty act." " You need not be. But I will write. There there is a cab." Errington hailed it, handed her in carefully , and they said good-by with a sud<>n sense of intimacy which months of ordinary com- munication would not have produced. It was a very serious undertaking to break the'intelligence to Miss Payne, and poor Katherine felt quite exhausted before her exclama- tions, questions, and \\onderings were half over. On one or two points "Miss Payne at once made up her mind, nor had she ever quite aKer !KT opinion : This man representing himself a.s George Lidd/11 was an hii;; ;^tor who had known th;- r.-al " >simrm Pure," and got himself up accordingly as soon as he heard that th;j late John Liddcli had died intestate that Mr. Newton was a wea 1 ;- minded, credulous idiot to acknowledge this impostor at first sighf, if he were not a double-dealing traitor ready to play into the hands of the new c'aimant He ought to have thrown the" onus of proof on him, instead of acknowledging his identity by that childish exclama- tion. Don't tell her that he was startled out of prudence and pre- caution, A spirit from above or below would not have thrown her A CROOKED PATH. . > 229 (Miss Payne) off her guard where property was concerned, and what was the use of men's superior strength and courage if they could not hold their tongues in presence of an unexpected appari- tion ? She was, however, profoundly disturbed, and sent at once for hei brother. It was evening before he arrived in Wilton Street, having gone out before Miss Payne's note reached him. Like Errington, he was at first incredulous, and when he had gathered the facts of the case, absolutely overcome. In fact, he showed more emotion than Erring- ton, yet it did not impress Katherine so much as Errington's deep, suppressed feeling. " But what are you to do ?" he said," raising his head, which he had bowed on his hand in a kind of despair. " It is just the question I have been asking myself," said Kather- ine, quietly. " For even if dear old Mr. Newton succeeds in soften- ing George Liddell, and he forgives me the outlay of what was cer- tainly his money, the little that belongs to myself I shall want for my nephews." " And pray is their mother to contribute nothing toward the main- tenance of her children?" asked Miss Payne, severely. " Poor Ada ! she has nothing of her own ; it will be desperately hard on her ;" and Katherine sighed deeply. Her hearers little knew the remorse that afflicted her as she reflected on the false posi- tion into which she had drawn her sister-in-law. What a rage Colonel Ormonde would be in ! How unwisely audacious it was in any mere mortal to play Providence for herself or her fellows ! But Miss Payne was speaking : " I don't see the hardship ; she has a husband behind her a rich man too." " For herself it is all well enough, but it must be very hard to think that one's children are a burden on a reluctant husband ; besides, the boys will feel it cruelly. Oh, if I can only keep them with me !" " I understandyou," cried Bertie. " Would to God you could lay vour burden at His feet who alone can help in time of need. If you could " He was interrupted by Francois, who brought a letter just arrived by the last post. " It is from Mr. Newton," exclaimed Katherine, opening it eager- ly. And having read it rapidly, she added, " You would like to hear what he says. " ' MY DEAR Miss LIDDELL, As I cannot see you early to-morrow I will send you a report. I had a long argument with your cousin after you left to-day, and although he is still in an unreasonable state of irritation against you and myself and every one, I do not despair of bringing him to a better and a juster frame of mind. For the present it would be as well you did not meet. I should advise your taking steps at once to remove your nephews from Sandbourne, and also, while you have money pay the quarter in advance, as you do not know how matters may turn. It was a most fortunate cir- 230 A. CROOKED PATH. curastance that the house occupied by Miss Trant was purchased in her name, as Mr. Liddell cannot touch that, and if she is at all the woman you suppose her to be, she will pay you interest for your money. " If you could only persuade your cousin to let you see and make friends with this little daughter of his th ere lies t he road to his heart. " ' Meanwhile say as little as possible to any one about this sudden change in your fortunes. To Miss Payne you must, of course, explain matters ; but she is a sensible, prudent woman. " 'With sincere sympathy, believe me yours most truly, "'W. NEWTON.'" "There is a gleam of hope, then," exclaimed Bertie. " I don't know what you mean about hope. At best a drop from about two thousand a year to a hundred and fifty is not a subject for congratulation. Well, Katherine, you are most welcome to stay here as my guest till you find something to do, for find something you must."" "I knew you would be kind and true," said Katherine. hr voice a little tremulous, "and believe me I will not sit with folded hands." CHAPTER XXV. "BREAD CAST ON THE WATERS." THERE were indeed long- and heavy days for Katherine, few though they were, before Mr. Newton thought it well to communicate the intelligence to Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde. He wished to be able to extract some more favorable terms from Liddell, so that his favorite client might fulfil her ardent desire to keep her nephews still with her, and assist in their maintenance and education. This was, in the shrewd old lawyer's estimation, a most Quixotic project, but he saw it was the only idea which enabled her to bear the extreme dis- tress caused by the prospect of returning the poor children on their mother's hands. A peried of uncertainty is always trying, and the reflection that the present crisis was the result of her unfortunate infringement of the unalterable law of right and wrong overwhelmed her with a sense of guilt. Had she not meddled with the matter, no doubt such a man as Errington would, were the case properly represented to him, have given some portion of the wealth bequeathed him to the family of the testator. But how could she have foreseen? True; but she might have resisted the temptation to deviate from the straight path. "She might!" What an abyss of endless regret yawns at the sound of those words, used in the sense of too late ! This was a hard worldly trouble over which she could not weep. Over and over again she told herself that nothing should part her from the boys, that she would devote her life to repair as far as A CROOKED PATS. 231 possible the injury she had done them. And Ada, wotiM she also Buffer for her (Katharine's) sins? But while brooding- constantly on these miserable thoughts she kept a brave front, quiet and steady, thoug-h Miss Payne saw that ner composure hid a good deal of suffering. It was more, however, than Katherine's resolution could accom- plish to keep a few evening engagements which she had made. " I should feel too great an impostor," she said. "How thankful I shall be when the murder is out and the nine clays' wonder over! Have you any commissions, clear Miss Payne? I Avant an object to take rne out, and I feel I must not mope in- doors." "No, I cannot say I have any shopping to do, and I am obliged to go into the City myself. Take a steady round of Kensington Gar- dens ; it is quite mild and bright to-day. I shall not return till six, 1 am afraid." So Katherine went out alone immediately after luncheon, before the world and his wife had time to get abroad. She had made a circuit of the ornamental water, and was returning by the footpath nc-ar the sunk fence which separates the Gardens from the Park', v.lL'ii she recognized De Burgh corning toward her. He had been in her thoughts at the moment ; for, feeling that it was quite likely lie had been considered a suitor, she was anxoius to g-ive him an opportunity of making an honorable retreat before society found out that the sceptre of_ wealth had slipped from heV hand. "Pray is this the way you cure a cold?" he asked, abrupt ly. "Last night Lady Mary Vincant informed me that you liad staid at home to nurse a cold. This morning I call to enquire for the interesting invalid, and find she is out in the cool February air." " It is very mild, and it is at night the air is dangerous," return- ed Katherine, smiling. " Now I look at you, I don't think you look so blooming as usual. May I go back with you and pay my visit of condolence, in spite of having left my card.-'" " Yes," said Katherine, with sudden decision. " I want to speak to you." ' Indeed !" with a keen, eager look. " This is something new. May 1 ask ' " No ; not until we are in Miss Payne's drawing-room." " You alarm me. Could it be possible that you, peerless as you are, have got into a scrape?" " Well. I think I can say 1 have," said Katherine, smiling. "Great heavens ! tTiis is delightful." " Let us talk of something else." " By all means. Will you hear some gossip ? I don't often retail any, but I f*ncy you'll be amused and interested to know that Lady Alice Mordaunt is really going to marry that brewer fellow. You remember I told you what I thought was going on last autumn." ' Is it possible?" cried Katherine. "Imagine her so soon forget- ting Mr. Errington !" 232 A CROOKED PATR " And why should not that immaculate individual be exempt from the usual fate of man ?" " I don't know except that he is not an ordinary man." *' No ; certainly not. He is an extraordinary fellow ; but I^must say he has shown great staying- power in his late difficulties. 'They tell me he has been revenging nimself by writing awful problems, political and critical, which requre a forty -horse intellectual power to understand." And De Burgh talked on, seeing that his com- panion was disinclined to speak until they reached Miss Payne's house. Katherine took off her hat and warm cloak with some deliberation, thinking how best to approach her subject. Pushing back her hair, which had become somewhat disordered from its own weight, she sat down on an ottoman, and raising her eyes to De Burgh, who stood on the hearth-rug, said, slowly, "I have a secret to tell you which you must keep for a few weeks." "For an eternity, if you will trust me," he returned, in low, earnest tones, his dark eyes fixed upon her, as if trying to read her heart. "Well, then, my uncle's son and h?ir, whom we believed to be dead, has suddenly reappeared, and of course takes the fortune I have been, let us say, enjoying." De Burgh did not reply at once ; his eyes continued to search her face as if to discover some hidden mea ing. " Do you mean me to take you seriously, Miss Liddell .-"' " Quite. Moreover, I fear my cousin means to demand the arrears of income income which I have spent." " But the fellow must be an impostor. Your man of business, Newton, will never yield to his demands. He must prove his case." "I think he has proved it. Mr. Newton recognized him at the first glance ; and he bears a strong resemblance to his father. 1 feel he is the man he asserts himself to be. ' u Do you intend to give up without a struggle ? What account does thi's intruder give of himself:'"' Katherine gave him a brief sketch of the story, speaking- with firmness and composure. " What an infernal shame'" cried De Burgh, when shoe-is ! speaking. " I wish I had had a chance of sending a bullet through his head, and as sure as there is a devil down below I'd have verified the report of his death ! Why, what is to be done '/''' "I still faintly hope Mr. Newton may persuade him to forego his first demand for the restoration of those moneys I have spent. If so, I am not quite penniless, and can hope to At all events, I thought it but right to give you early information, as 1 " Whv y" interrupted De burgh (for she hesitated), throwing him- self on the ottoman and leaning against the arm which divided the seats, till his long- dark mustaches nearly touched the coils of her hair. "Why?" he repeated, as she did not answer immediately. "I know well enough. It is your loyalty that makes you wish to open a way of escape to the friend who is credited with seeking- your fortune. 1 see it all. " A CROOKED PATR 233 " You can assign any motive you like, Mr. De Burgh, but I thought I wished 1 believed it better to let you know ; for I shall always consid -r you my friend, even if we do not meet," said Katherine, a good deal 'iiiahiged by the excitement and distress he displayed. " Meet? why, of cou^ae ire shall meet ! Do you think anything in heaven or earth would make me give up the attempt, hopeless as it may seem, to win you? I know you don't care a rap for me no\v, but I cannot, dare not despair. I've too much at stake. There is the awful sting of this misfortune. Even if you, by some blessed intervention of Providence, were ready to marry me, I don't see how I could drag you into such a sea of trouble. Besides, there's old De Burgh ; he must be kept in good-humor. By Heaven ! this miserable want of money is the most utter degradation irresistible, enslaving. I feel like a beaten cur. I am tied hand and foot. Had I not been such a reckless idiot, why, your misfortunes might have been my best chance. I dare say that sounds shabby enough, but I like to let you see what I am, good and bad ; besides, I am ready to do anything, right or wrong, to win you." " Ah, Mr. De Burgh, no crookedness ever succeeds. And then I do not deserve that you should think so much or care so much for me, for I do not wish to marry you or any one. My plan of life is framed on quite different line's Do put me out of your mind, and think of your own fortunes. Dp not vex Lord De Burgh ; but oh ! pray give up racing and gambling. You know Ireally do like you, not exactly in the way you wish, but it adds greatly to my troubles (for I am very sorry to lose my fortune, I assure you) to see you so so disturbed." "If you look at me so kindly with those sweet wet eyes I shall lose my head'" cried De Burgfi, who was already beside himself, for the gulf which had suddenly yawned between him and the woman he coveted seemed to grow wider as he looked at it. "I am the most unlucky devil in existence, and I have brought I/OH ill luck. ] should have kept away from you, for you are a hundred thousand times too good for me ; but as 1 have thrown myself headlong into the delicious pain of loving you, won't you give me a chance? Promise to wait for me : a week, a day, may see me wealthy, and I swear I will strive to be worthy too : why were those bush-rangers such infernally bad-shots ? and 1 can be no use to you what- ever ?" " But I have many kind friends, Mr De Burgh. You must not distress yourself about me. I am not frightened, I assure you. Now I have told you everything, don't you think you would better go?" She rose as she spoke, and held out her hand. " Better for you, yes, but not for me. Look here, Katherine, don t banish me. I am obliged to go with old Da Burgh to Paris. He is making for Cannes again, and asked me to come so far. Of course he has a chain round mv neck. I must obey orders like his bond- slave, but when I come'back don't banish me. I swear I'll be aa unobtrusive friend, and I may be of use. Don't send me quite away ; in short, I won't take a dismissal. What is it you object to ? What absurd stories have been told you to set you against me? Other women have liked me well enough." 234 A CROOKED PATH. " T have no doubt yon deserve to be loved, Mr. De Burgh, bm theve are feelings that, like the wind, blow where they list ; we can- not tell whence they come or whither they go. I am sorry I do not love you, but I am very tired. If you care to come and see me when you come back, come if I have any place in which to receive you." " If I write, will you answer my letters?" " Oh no ; don't write ; I would rather you did not." " I am a brute to keep you when you look so white ; I'll go. Good- bv for the present only for the present, you dear, sweet woman !" lie kissed her hand twice and went quickly out of the room. Katherine heaved a sigh of relief. The degree of liking she had for DQ Burgh made her feel greatly distressed at having been obliged to give him pain. Yet she was not by any means disposed to trust him ; his restless eagerness to gratify every whim and desire as it came to him, the kind of harshness v> hich made him so indifferent to the feelings and opinions of those who opposed him this was very repellent to Katherine's more considerate and sympa- thetic nature. Besides, and above all, De Burgh was not Errington ; and it needs no more to explain why the former, who had no reason hitherto to complain of the coldness of women, found the only one he had ever loved with a high order of affection untouched by his wooing. The day after this interview Katherine, accompanied by Miss Payne, went down to Sandbourne to interview the principal of the boys' school, to explain the state of affairs, to give notice that she should be obliged to remove them, and to pay in advance for the time they were to remain The visit was full of both pain and pleasure. The genuine delight of the children on seeing her unexpectedly, their joy at being per- mitted to go out to walk with her, their innocent talk, and the castles in the air which they erected in the firm conviction that they wt-re to have horses and dogs, man-servants and maid-servants, all the days of their lives, touched her heart. The principal gave a good account of both. Cecil was, he said, erratic and excitable in no common degree, but though troublesome, he was truthful and straightforward, while Charlie promised to develop qualities of no common order. He entered with a very friendly spirit into the anxiety of the young aunt, whose motherly tenderness for her nephews touched him greatly. He gave her some valuable advice, and the address of two schools regulated to suit parents of small means, and which he could safely recommend. By his suggestion nothing was said for the present to Cis or Charlie regarding the im- pending change, lest they should be unsettled. " And shall we come" to stay at Miss Payne's for the Easter holi- days ?" cried the boys in chorus, as Katherine took leave of them the next day. " I hope so, dears, but I am not "Then will you come down u. lourne? That would be jolly." " 1 cannot promise, Cecil. We will see." A CROOKED PATH. 235 "But, auntie, we'll not have to go to Castleford ? n " Why ? Would you not like to go ?" " No. Would you, Charlie ? I don't like being- there nearly go much as at school. I don't like havingjdinner by ourselves, and yet I don't care to dine with Colonel Ormonde ; he is always in a wax." " He does not mean to be cross," said Katherine, her heart sink- ing within her. Should she be obliged to hand over the poor little helpless fellows to the reluctant guardianship of their irritable step- father ? This would indeed be a pang. Was it for this she had broken the law, and marred the harmony of her own moral nature ? " Well, my own dear, I will do the best I can for you, you may be quite sure. Now you must let me go ; I will come again as soon as I can." Cis kissed her heartily, and scampered away to take his place in the class-room, quite content with his school life. Charlie threw his arms around his auntie's neck, and clung to her lovingly. But he too was called away, and nothing remained for Katherine and her companion but to make their way to the station and return to town. This visit cost Katherine more than any other outcome of George Liddell's reappearance. Her quick imagination depicted what the boys' lives would be under the jurisdiction of their mother and her husband the worries, the suppression, the sense of being always naughty and in the wrong, the different yet equally pernicious effect such treatment would have on the brothers. " This is the worst part of the business to you," said Miss Payne, when they had reached home and sat down to a late tea together. " You look like a ghost, or as if you had seen one. You will make yourself ill, and really there is no need to do anything of the kind. Those children have a mother who is very well off. I always thought it frightfully imprudent of you to take those boys even when you had plenty of money. Now, of course, when it is impos- sible for you to keep them, it is a bitter wrench to part, but 1 " But I am not sure that we must part," interrupted Katherine, eagerly. " Should my cousin be induced to forego his claims upon me for the income I have expended, and I can find some means of maintaining myself, I could still provide for their school expenses and keep them with me." "Maintain yourself, my dear Katherine; it is easier said than done. You are quite infatuated about those nephews of yours, and I dare say they will give you small thanks." " I know it fs not easy for an untrained woman like mvself to find remunerative work, but I shall try. Here is a note from Mr. Newton asking me to call on him to-morrow. Let us hope he will have some good news, though I cannot help fearing he would have told me in this if he had." It was with a sickening sensation of uneasy hope shot with dark streaks of fear that Katherine started to keep her appointment with Mr. Newton. Eager to begin her economy at once, Katherine took an omnibus instead of indulging in a brougham or a cab. She could not help smiling at her own sense of helpless discomfort when a fat 236 A CROOKED PATH. woman almost sat down upon her, and the conductor told her to look sharp when the vehicle stopped to let her alight ; as she reflected that barely three years ago she considered an omnibus rather a luxury, and that it was a matter of careful calculation how many pennies might be saved by walking to certain points whence one could travel at a reduced fare. How easily are luxurious and self-indulgent habits formed ! Well, she had done with them forever now ; nor would anything seem a hardship were she but permitted to repair in some measure the evil she had wrought. She found Mr. Newton awaiting her with evident impatience. " Well, my dear Miss Liddell," he said, " 1 have been most anxious to see you, though I have not much that is cheering to communicate. I have" had several interviews with your cousin, but he seems unaccountably hard and vindictive. However, as I am, of corn-he. 1/o-ir adviser, he has been obliged to seek another solicitor, and I aa? happy to say he has fallen into good hands, and that by a sort of luckv chance." " How ?" asked Katherine, who was looking pale and feeling in the depths. " Well, a few days ago a gentleman called here to ask me for the address of a former client of whom 1 have heard nothing for years. 1 think you know or have met this gentleman Mr. Erring- ton." " I do," cried Katherine, now all attention. " While Ave were speaking Mr. Liddell was announced. Erring- ton looked at him hard, and then asked politely if he were the son of the late Mr. John Liddell, who had been a great friend of his (Errington's) father. Your cousin seemed to know the name, and, moreover, very pleased at being spoken to and remembered. Mr. Errington offered to call, and now I find he has recommended his own solicitors, Messrs. Compton & Barnes, to George Liddell. I had na interview with the head of the firm yesterday, and he has evi- dently advised that the strictly legal claims against you should not be pressed. I cannot help thinking that Mr. Erring"ton has inter- ested himself on your side." " Indeed !" cried Katherine, life and warmth coming back to her heart at his words. " Yes, I do. Compton appears to have the highest possible opinion of Errington as a man of integrity and intelligence. He, Compton says, believes that if Liddell could be persuaded such a line of c m- duct toward you would injure him socially, he would not seek to enforce his rights, for he is evidently anxious to make a position in the j-espectable world. As you make no opposition to his claims ha ougat to show you consideration. This accidental encounter between Errington and your cousin will, lam sure, prove a fortunate cir- cumstance. " In her own mind Katherine could not help doubting its accidental character. How infinitely good and forgiving Errington was ! While she thought, Mr. Newton mused. " I suppose you have a tolerable balance at the bank?" he said, abruptly. " Yes. I have never spent a year's income in a year. Just lately, except for buying that house, I have spent very little." A CROOKED PATH. 237 " That house ! Oh ah ! I shall be curious to see how Miss Trant will behave. If she is true to her word ; if she looks upon your loan to her as a loan an investment on your side you may gain an addition to your income through what was an act of pure benevolence. When you go home, my dear young lady, look at your bank-book, and let "me know exactly how you stand/ We miglit on"er this cor- morant of a cousin a portion of your savings to linish the business. Indeed I should advis;- vou to draw a good large check at once so as to provide yourself with ready money." " Would it be quite quite honest to do so?" asked Katherine, anxiously." "Pray do you impugn my integrity?" " No ! But suppose George Liddell found I had drawn a large check perhaps the vn-y day before I propose through you to hand over what remains to me he would think me a cheat ?" "And pray why should he know anything about your bank book? or what consideration do you owe him? He is behaving very harshly and badly to you. "We will state what is in the bank after you have drawn vour check, and o!Ter him half which is a great deal too much for him. Yet I should like him to be your friend, if possible. Could you get hold of that little girl of his? Affection for her s,-(-nis to be the oitly human thing about him." " 1 think 1 should rather have nothing todo with him,'' murmured Katherine. " \VY.11, well, we will see. Now, though we have not succeeded in comir.g to any settlement with Liddell, I believe we ought not to leave Mrs Ormonde any longer in ignorance respecting the change which has taken place." " No, I am sure they ought to know. I have been troubling my- self about both the Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde," said Katherine. " This is what I dread most." And she sighed. "I do not see why you need. I am sure you acted with noble lib- erality to Mrs. Ormonde and her boys when you thought you were the rightful owner of the property." "The rightful owner," repeated Katherine, with a thrill of pain. " It h is been an unfortunate ownership to me." "it has it has indeed, my dear voung lady, but we must s >e how to help you at this juncture. If Miss Trant behaves as she ought, we must put a little more capital in that concern if it is as thriving as you believe. It may turn out very useful to you." "I have not seen her since my cousin came to life again, for I could not see her and keep back my strange story. May I tell her now?" "Certainly. It was from Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde I wished to keep back the disastrous news till some agreement shoifld become to." "You must not call my cousin's return to [life and country disas- ;roTts,"said Katherine, smiling. "lam sure, if he will only give me the chance of keeping my boys with me, I am quite ready to welcome him to both. Now I shall leave you, for I want to send 238 A CROOKED PATH. away my letter to Ada this evening-, and it is a difficult letter to write." "I have no doubt you will state your case clearly and well," returned Mr. Newton, rising to shake hands with her. "Let me hear what Mrs. Ormonde says in reply ; and see your protegee, Miss Trant. I am anxious to learn her views." 'I am quite sure I know what they will be," said Katherine. " Don't be too sure. Human nature is a very crooked thing more crooked than a true heart like yours can imagine, "continued the old man, holding her hand kindly. "Ah, Mr. Newton," she cried, \vith an irresistible outburst of penitence, "you little know what crooked things I can imagine." "Can't I?" he said laughing at what he fancied was her little joke, and glad to see her bearing her troubles so lightly. "You'll come all right yet, my dear ; you have the right spirit. Is your carriage waiting? " " Not here ; but in Holborn I have several at my command, "she returned. " Good-by ; no, you must not come down-stairs ; it is damp and chilly." On reaching her home, the home she must o soon resign, Kathe- rine sent a note to Rachel Trant asking if she had a spare hour that evening, as she, Katherine, had something to tell her. and preferred going to her house. Then she sat down to write a full and detailed account of what had taken place to her sister-in-law. It was dusk before she had finished and she herself felt considerably exhausted. Miss Payne had gone out to dine with one of her former girls, now the wife of a rackety horsy man, whose conduct made her often look back with a sigh of regret to the tranquil days passed under the guardianship of the prudent spinster ; so having partaken of tea at theirusualdinner-time she sat and mused awhile on the one subject from which she could derive comfort Erririgton and his wonderful kindness to her. If he took the matter in hand she thought herself safe. Her confidence in him was unbounded. Ah ! why had she placed such a gulf between them ? How she had destroyed her own life ! There was but one tie between her and the world, little Charlie H; < I Cis, and perhaps she had been their greatest enemy. Shealmost M iyhed she could love De Burgh. He was undoubtedly in earnest ; ho interested her ; ne But no. Between her and any possible hus- band she had reared the insurmountable barrier of , secret not to be shared by any save one, from whom, somehow, instead of dividing her, had bound her indissolubly ; at least she felt it to be so. It was near the hour she had fixed to call on Rachel, so she roused herself, ana asking the amiable Francois to accompany her, started for Maiden Street. Rachel Trant had made a back parlor, designated the "trying- on"room, bright and cosy, with a shaded lamp, a red fire, a couple of easy-chairs at either side of it, and a gay cloth over the small round table erst strewn with fashion books, measuring tapes, pins, patterns and pin -cushions. "How very good of you to come tome !" cried Miss Trant, hasten- ing to divest her friend of bonnet and cloak. "I am very curious to hear the story you have to tell. " Then, as Katherine sat down where A CROOKED PATH. 239 the lamp-light fell upon her face, she added, ' ' But you are not look- ing well, Miss Liddell ; your eyes look heavy ; your mouth is sad." " I am troubled, more than sad," said Katherine ; " the why and wherefore I have come to tell you." " Yes ; tell me everything. " And Rachel took a low seat opposite her guest ; her usually pale face was slightly flushed, her large blue eyes darkened with the pleasure of seeing the friend she loved so warmly and the interest with which she awaited her disclosure, and as Katherine looked at her she realized how pretty and attractive she must have been before the fresh grace of her girlhood had been withered by the cruel fires of passion and despair, "lam listening," saidRachel, gently, to recall her visitor, whose thoughts were evi- dently far away. "Yes; I had forgotten." And Katherine began her story. Rachel Trant listened with rapt, intense attention, nor did she interrupt the narrative by a single question. When Katherine ceased to speak she remained silent for a second or two longer : then she asked, " Are you convinced of the truth of this man's story?" " I am, for Mr. Newton does not seem to have a doubt. Oh ! he is my uncle John's only son only child, indeed and he is like him. I always fancied from the little my uncle said about George that he was naturally kind and sympathetic, but he has had a hard life, and it has made him hard. The loss of his mother was a terrible misfortune." " Was he young when she died ? " " He was about fourteen, I think ; but he lost her by a worse mis- fortune than death. She was driven away by my uncle's severity and harshness ; she left him for another. 5 ' " What ! left her son ? " " Yes it seems incredible nor does my cousin resent her deser- tion. On the contrary, all the affection and softness in him appears to centre round his daughter and the memory of his mother. " "Then," said Rachel, "if this man persists in demanding his rights, you will be beggared, and those dear boys must go back to their mother. They will not be too welcome." " Oh no ! no ! I feel that only too keenly." " But you will not be penniless nor homeless, "cried Rachel. "He cannot touch this house. You made it over to me, and I will use it for you. There are two nice rooms I can arrange for you upstairs. lam doing well, and if I had but a little more capital, I should not fear ; I should not doubt making a great success. My dear, dearest Miss Liddell, I may be of use to you, after all. Tell me, is this Mr. Newton truly interested in you anxious to help you ? " " I am sure he is ; he is very unhappy about me." " Do you think he would let me call on him ? I want to tell him the plans that are coming into my head. I can explain all the busi- ness part to him. If I can get through this year withoutdebt, 1 am prettysureof providing you withan income anincreasinginconie. This is a joy 1 never anticipated. And then you can keep your little nephews, and be a real mother to them. I don'c want to trouble you 240 i. CROOKED PATR with the business details oi my plan ; you would not understand them. But Mr. Newton will. Pray write a line asking 1 him to see me, to name his own time. Stay ; here are paper and pen and ink ; ask him to write to vmi. He knows he knows my story. At least " She stopped, coloring 1 crimson. " He knows all it is needful for me to tell," said Katherino, gravely. " Yes, Rachel, it is better to explain all to him. He is kind and wise, and I am strangely stupefied by this extraordinary overturn of my fortunes. I shall be glad of your help, but do not neglect your own future, dear Rachel." " I shall not : I shall make enough for us both. You have indeed given me something to live for.'' CHAPTER XXVI. COLONEL AND MRS. ORMONDE. THE moral effect of feeling in touch with some loyal, tender, sym- pathizing fellow-creature is immense. It gives faith in one's self a b.-lief in the possibilities for good hidden in the future ; above all, relief from that most paralyzing of mental conditions, a sense of isolation. Katherine walked back alone in the dark. The sooner she accus- tomed herself to habits of independence the better : for the future she vHist learn to stand alone, to take care of herself, unassisted by maid or nunky. It made her a little nervous ; for although in th'o old impecunious days she went on all necessary errands in the morn- ing alone, she rarely left the house after sundown even with a com- panion. They were very monotonous days, those which seemed to have fled away so far into the soft misty gloom of the past. Yet how- full of fragrance was their memory ! The castle-building, the vague bright hopes, the joy of helping the dear mother, the utter absolute trust in her, the struggle with the necessities of life all were more or less sweet ; and now to what an end she had brought the simple drama of her youth ! Had she resisted that strange prompting- which kept her silent when Mr. Newton began to look for the will, how different everything might have been ! Errington might I o well off too, arid she might never have seen him. "With the thought of him came the sudden overpowering vish to hear his voice clear, deliberate, convincing 1 which sometimes seiz- c 1 her in spite of every elVort to banish it from her mind, and of which she was utterly^" profoundly ashamed, th-j recurrence of which was infinitely painful. She must till her heart, with other thoughts, other objects. " Life is serious enough (rhc life which lies before me especially) to crowd out these follies. Why do I increase its gloom with imaginary troubles ?" Miss Payne, returning from her dinner, found Katherine sitting Op for her. apparently occupied with a book, and in the little confi- dential talk which ensued Katharine told her of Rachel Trant's inten- tion of consulting Mr. Newton respecting her plans for increasing her business with a view to assisting her benefactress. A CROOKED PATH. 241 Miss Payne received this communication in silence ; but after a moment's thought observed, in a grave, approving tone; " You have not been deceived in her, then. I really believe Rachel Trant is a young woman of principle and integrity." " Yes, I have always thought so." Then, after apause, she resum- ed : " I wonder what reply I shall have from Ada to-morrow no, the day after to-morrow. "Do not worry yourself about it. She will make herself disagree- able, of course ;"but it is just a trouble to be got through with. Go to i ed, my dear ; try to sleep and to forget. You are looking fagged and worn." But Katherine could not help dwelling upon the pictx..e her ima- gination presented of the morrow's breakfast-time at Castleford ; of the dismay with which her letter would be read ; of Ada's tears and Colonel Ormonde's rage ; of the torrent of advice which would be poured upon her. Then what decision would Colonel Ormonde come to about the boys? He would banish them to some cheap out-of-the- way school. It was impossible to say what he would do. Naturally she (lid not slesp well or contimiously, disturbed as she was by such thoughts such uneasy anticipations and her eyes showed the results of a bad night when she met Miss Payne 5 the morning. About eleven o'clock Katherine came quickly into .iss Payne's particular sitting-room, where she made up her accounts and studied her bank-book. " What is it?" asked that lady, looking up, and perceiving that Katherine was agitated. " A telegram from Ada. They will be here ahou. five this after- noon." " Well, never mind. There is nothing in that to scare you." "I am not scared, but I wish that interview was over."' "Yes; I shall be glad when it is ; though I shall not oMrudeon his Royal Highness. (I suppose he is coming as well as she.) I shall toe in the house, so you can send for me if you want me." "Thank you, Miss Payne ; you are very good to me. I feel that I ouffht not to stay here crowding up your house." " Nonsense ! I am not in such a hurry to find a new inmate. I shall not like any one as well as you. I wish I could give up and live in a neat little cottage, but I cannot. Indeed, if you think I may, I should like to mention this deplorable change in your fortunes to Mrs. Needham. She knows everv one, and can bring all sorts of people together if she likes." "By all means, Miss Payne. There is no reason whv you should not." And after a little more conversation Katherine went back to her occupation of arranging her belongings and wardrobe, that when the moment of parting came she might be quite ready to go. > To wait patienely for that which you know will be painful is tor- ture of no mean order. It was somewhat curtailed for Katherine on that memorable day, for Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde arrived half an ,'/>/)- carree of ladies does not seem to promise much," said Mrs. Needham, when she had greeted Miss Payne and "her voung friend," into which position Katherine had sunk; "but unless 1 could have three or four men it is better to have none ; besides we warn t talk of business, and men under such circumstances always exch:! us, so I don't see why we should admit them. Miss Bradley lit: Payne, Miss Liddell' of whom you have heard me spaak." Miss Bradley rose from the sofa, where she was half recliirii- beside a bright wood lire, a tall stately figure in a long- pale bine plush dress, cut low in front, and tied loosely with a knot of bin;; satin ribbon, nestling among the rich yellow white lace which Tell from the edge of the bodice. She was extremely fair, even colorless, with abundant but somewhat s.indy hair. Her features were regu- lar and marked, a well-shaped head was gracefully set on a firm white column-like throat, and her eyes were clear and cold when in repose, but darkened and lit up when speaking of whatever roused and interested her. Indeed, she looked strong and stern when silent. "I am very pleased to meet you,"shesaid, inafull, pleasant voice. A CROOKED PATH. 249 " I Lave of ten heard of you from Mrs. Needham, and I think you know a friend of mine Mr. Erring-ton." "Yes; I know him," returned Katherine, feeling her face aflame. " I have heard of you too," continued Miss Bradley, addressing- Miss Payne, " from several mutual friends, thought we have never happened to meet before. I think you had just left Rome with Miss Jennings when I arrived there some four years ag-o." "I had : and remember you were expected there." "Miss Jennings married a relation of mine, and I see her very often, at least often for London, She really looks younger, if possi- ble, than formerly," etc., etc., and their talk flowed in the Jennings channel for a few minutes." Meantrne Mrs. Needham, passing her arm through Katherine's, led her away to a. very diminutive back room, draped and car- peted with Oriental stuff's, then beginning to be the fashion, and crammed with all imaginable ornaments and specimens, from bits of rare " Capo di monti " to funny sixpenny toys. "I have just found such a treasure," she exclaimed; "a real saucer of old Chelsea, and only a small bit out of this side. Isn't Angela Bradley handsome ? She is a very remarkable girl, or perhaps I ought to say woman. She speaks four or five languages, and plays divinely; then she is a capital critic. It was she who advised her father to publish that very singular book, The Gorgon's Head; every publisher in London had refused it. He took it, and has cleared oh, I'd be afraid to say how- much money by it." "I hope the writer got a fair share," said Katherine, smiling. "Hum ! ah, that's another matter; but I dare say Bradley will treat him quite as fairly as any one else. She will have a big fortune one of these days. Her father perfectly adores her." " I wish I could write," said Katherine, with a sigh. "It must be a charming way to earn money." " AVhy don't you try? You seem to me to have plenty of brains' and I suppose you will have to do something. I was so sorry- Mrs. Needham" was beginning, when dinner was announced, and her svmpathetic utterances were" cut short. " The repast was admirable, erring perhaps on the side side of plen- teousness,and well served by two smart young women in black, with pink ribbons in their caps. Nor was there any lack of bright tal a ?ise a howl of execration by such conduct. Now, as you have nothing settled, and if Angela^Bradley and Miss Payne mJike it up, you will have to leave where you are. Suppose you come to me?" "To you? My dear Mrs. Needham, it would be delightful " "Would it? It is not a very magnificent appointment, I assure you. You see, 1 have so much to do that I really must have help. I had a girl for three or four months. I gave her twenty -five pounds a year, and thought she would be a great comfort, but she made a mess of my room and my papers, and could not write a decent letter ; besides, slie was discontented, so she left me, and I have been in a horrid muddle for the last fortnight Now if you like to come to me, while you are looking out for something better, I am sure I shall be charmed, and will do all I can to push you. It's a miserable sort of engagement, but there it is ; only I'll want you to co.j.-j. as soon as you can, for there are heaps to do." " Indeed I am delighted to be your help, or secretary, or whatever you choose to call me, and as for looking for something better, if I can only save enough to provide for the boys, 1 would rather work with you for twenty-five pounds a year than any one else for 1 ' " For five hundred ?" put in Mrs Needham, with an indulgent smil 1 , as she paused. " Xo. no. Five hundred a year is not to be lightly rejected," re turned Katlierine, laughing. ''But as I greatly doubt that I could uver be worth five hundred a year to any one, I gladly accept twenty- five. " I "Remember, I do not expect you to stay an hour after you find something better Now do me tell how matters stand with you." Katlierine therefore unbosomed herself, and among other things told how well and faithfully Rachel Trant had behaved toward her, of the; fath -rlv kindness shown II.T bv her old lawyer, and wound up by d cl.iriiiir that the world could not be so bad a place as it is reckon; 1 1. sving that in her reverse of fortune she had found so imu-h consideration. " Of course. 1 ' she concluded, " there are heap.", of pv)ple 'ivh >. once I drop from the ranks of those who can enjoy and sp 'iid, will forget my existence ; but I have no rig-ht to exp.-.'-t more. Th -v only want playfellows, not friends, and a$k no more than they give." A CROOKED PATH. 251 "Quite true, my young 1 philosopher. Tell me, can you come on Saturday come to stay v " "1 fear not. Besides I have a superstition about entering- on a new abode on Saturday. Don't laugh ! But I will come to-morrow, i if you like, and write and copy for you. I will eome each day till 1 Monday next, and so help vou to clear up." "That is a good child ! 1 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 nor breach "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. Need- ham " 1 am glad to see you looking bettei than when we last spoke to- gether,'' 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 hart 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 seern 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 oi) her with a soft expression and lingering glance. " They are 1 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 inter- rupted her conversation, or noticed the new-comers in any way, suddenly turned her face toward them, and said, with something 1 like command, "Mr. Errington !" Errington immediately obeyed. Katherine watched them speak - ifio 1 together for some minutes with a curious sense of discomfort and dissatisfaction. Miss Bradley's face looked softer and brighter, and a sort of animation came into her gestures, slight and dignified 252 A CROOKED PATH. though they were. They seen;. ,i io L :ivc much to say, and said it with a certain amount of well-bred familiarity. Yes, they were evidently friends ; very naturally. How happy she was to DC thus free from any painful consciousness in his presence ! She was as stainless as himself, could look fearlessly in his eyes and assert her- self, while she (Katherine) could only crouch 'in profoundcst hu- mility, and gratefully gather what crumbs of kindness and notiiM he let fall for her benefit. It was quite pitiable to be easily distur- bed by such insignificant circumstances. How pitiably weak she was !* So, with an effort, she turned her attention to Mrs. Needham and Bertie, who had slipped into an argument, as they often did, re- specting the best and most effective method of dealing with the poor. In this Katherjne joined with somewhat languid interest, quite aware that Errington and Miss Bradley grew more and more ab- sorbed in their conversation, till Miss Payne, feeling' herself / left her place to speak with Mrs. Needham, while Katherii.. and Bertie gradually dropped into silence. 'Miss Bradley 's carriage," was soon announced, and she rose tall and stately, nearly as tall as Errington. ' Will you excuse me for running away so soon, dear Mrs. Need- ham?" she said, but I promised Mrs. Julian Starner to go to her musical party to-night. I am to play the opening piece of the second part, so 1 dare not stay longer. You are going ?" to Errington, who bowed assent. " T"hen I can give you a seat in my brougham," she continued, with calm, assurea serenity. ' Thank you," and Errington, turning to Katherine, said quickly: " Will you'let me know when you hear from Newton ? I aci most anxious as regards Liddell's decision." " I will, certainly. Good-night." She put her hand into his, and felt in some occult manner comfort by the gentle pressure with which he held it for half a moment. Yes, beaten, defeated, punished as she Avas, he felt for her with a noble compassion. Ought not that to be enough ? " Good -night, Miss Liddell. I hope yon will come and see me. I am always at home on Tuesday afternoons ; and Miss Payne, Avhen I have seen the grandmother of the g'irl we have been speaking about, 1 will let you know, and you will kindly take into considera- tion the points I mentioned. Good-night." And she swept away. leaning on Erring-ton's arm. " Now that we are by oursalves," said Mrs. Needham, comfort- ably, "I must tell you what 1 have been proposing to Miss Liddell. I should like you to know all about it," and she plunged into the subject. " I know it is but a poor offer," she concluded ; " but for the present it is better than nothing, and she can be on the lookout for something else." Bertie wisely held his tongue. Katherine declared herself ready and willing to accept the ofter, and Miss Payne, with ivs .'ut , can- dor, declared that the remuneration was miserable, but that it was as well to be doing something while waiting for a butter appoint- ment. Poor Katherine was terribly distressed by this frankness, but Mrs. Needham was quite unmoved, biie said she saw the force of A CROOKED PATH. 253 what Miss Payne said, but there it was, and it remained with Miss Liddell to take or leave what she suggested. Then Miss Payne's prospects came under discussion, and tha doubtful circumstances connected with Miss Bradley 's proposition. "Now it is long past ten o'clock, and we itHiut j-ay good-night," re- marked Miss Pa,/ lie. "Really, Mrs. Needhum, you are a wonderful woman' You have nearly 'placed' us both." How earnestly I hope thare are better and brighter days before my young 1 friend, whom I shall miss very much !" "That I am quite sure. Well, she can go and see you as often as you like. Now tell me, isn't Angela Bradley a splendid creature?" "She is indeed," murmured Katherine. " Well, there is a good deal of her," said Miss Payne, with a sniff. "Not too much for Mr. Errington, I think," exclaimed Mrs. Need- ham with a knowing smile. "I fancy that will be a match before the season is over. It will be a capital thing for Errington. Old Bradley is /m-mensely rich, and I am sure Errington is far gone. Well, good-night, my dear Miss Payne. I am so glad to think I shall have Miss Liddell fora little while, at all events. You will come the day after to-morrow at ten, won't you, and help me to regulate some of my papers? Good-night, my dear, good -night." Mr. Newton came into his office the afternoon the day following Mrs. Needham's little dinner. His step was alert and his head erect, as though he was satisfied with himself and the world. A boy who sat in a box near the door, to make a note of the flies walking into the spider's parlor, darted out, saying, "Please sir, Miss Liddell is waiting for you." "Is she? Very well." And the old lawyer went quickly along the passage leading to the other rooms, and opening the door of his own, found Katherine sitting by the table, a newspaper, which had evidently dropped from her hand, lying by her on the carpet. She started up to meet her good friend, who was struck by her pallor and the sad look in her eyes. " Well, this is lucky!" exclaimed Newton, shaking hands with her cordially. "I was going to write to you, as I wanted to see you, and heVe you are." " I was just beginning to fear I might be troublesome, but I have been so anxious." " Of course you have. And you have been verf patient, on the whole. Well "laying aside his hat, and rubb ; ' f his hands as ho sat down "I have just come from consulting with Messrs. Conip- ton, and I am very 'happy to tell you it is agreed that George Lid- dell shall withdraw his claim to the arrears of income, but not to the savings you have ejected since your succession to the property, also the balance standing to your name at your banker's is not to be in- terfered with ; so I think things are arranging- themselves more favorably, on the whole, than I could have hoped." " Thev are, indeed," cried Katherine, clasping her hands together in thankfulness. " What an immense relief ! I have more than three hvndred pounds in the bank, and I have found employment for tho present at least, so I can use my, little income for the boys. How 254 A CROOKED PATH. can I thank you, dear Mr. Newtf n, for all the trouble you have taken for inc.''" Aiitl she took his hard, wrinkled hand, pressing" it between both hers, and. looking with sweet loving eyes into his. "I am sure I was quite ready to take any trouble for you. my dear young lady ; but in this matter Mr. Errington has done most o" the work. He has gained a surprising" degree of influence over your cousin, who is a very curious customer; but for h m (Mr. i rrington, I mean), 1 fear he would have insisted on his full rights, which would have been a bad business. However, that is over now. Nor will Mr. Liddell fare badly. Your savings have added close on three thousand pounds to the property which falls to him. I am surprised that he did not try at once to make friends with you, for his little girl's sake. I hear he is in treaty for a grand mansion in one of the new streets they are building over at South Kensington. He is tremendously fond of this little girl of his. It seems Liddell was awfully cut up at the death of his wife, about a year and a haif ago. He fancies that if he had known of his father's death and his own succession he would have come home, and the voyage would have saved her life. This, 1 rather think, was at the root of his rancor against you." "How unjust! how unreasonable !" cried Katherine. "Now tell me of your interview with Mrs. Ormonde and her husband." '' Well ah it was not a very agreable half-hour. I have seldom seen so barefaced an exhibition of selfishness. However, I think I brought them to their senses, certainly Mrs. Ormonde, and I am determined to make that fellow Ormonde pay something toward the education of his wife's sons." 'I would rather not have it," said Katherine. "Nonsense,'' cried the lawyer, sharply. " You or they are entitled to it, and you shall have it. v Mrs Ormonde evidently does not want to quarrel with you, nor is it well for the boys' sake to be at logger- heads with theirmother " " No. certainly not; but, Mr Newton, I can never be the same to her again. 1 never can forgive her or her husband's ingratitude and want of feeling " "Of course not, and they know you will not; still, an open split is to be avoided. Now, tell me, what is the employment you men- tiomd:-"' Katherine told him, and a long confidential conversation ensued, \\ herein she explained her views and intentions, and listened to her old friend s good advice Certain communication to Mrs. Ormonde were decided on, as Katherine agreed with Mr Newton that she should have no further personal intercourse concerning business matters with her sister-in-law. " Bv-the-way." said Newton, "one of the events of the last few days was a visit from your protegee, Miss Trant I was a good deal struck with her. She is a pretty, delicate-looking girl, yet she's as hard as nails, and a first-rate woman of business. She seems deter- mined to make your fortune, for that is just the human touch about her that interested me. She doesn't talk about it, but her profound gratitude to you is evidently her ruling motive. I am so persuaded that she will develop a good business, and that you will ultimately A CROOKED PATH. 255 get a high percentage for the money you have advanced or, as you thought, almost given that I am going to trust her with a lit'.Ie of mine, just to keep the concern free of debt till it is safely floated." " How very good of you !" cried Katherine. "And what a proof of your faith iii my friend ! How can you call her hard ? To me she is most sympathetic." "Ay, to you. Then you soe she seems to have devoted herself to you. To me she turned a very hard bit of her shell. No matter. I think she is the sort of woman to succeed. You have not seen her since since her visit to me?" " No. I have not been to see her because not because I was busy, but idle and depressed. I will not be so any more. So many friends have been true and helpful to me that 1 should be ashamed of feelii g depressed. I will endeavor to prove myself a first-rate secretary, and be a credit to you, my dear good friend." "That you will always be, I'm sure," returned Newton, warmly. "Now you must run away, my dear young lady, for I have fifty thing's to do. Your friend Miss Trant will tell you all that passed between us, and what her plans are." "I am going too pay 'her a visit this evening. I do not like to trouble her either in the morning or afternoon, she is so busy. But I always enioy a talk with her. She is really very well inform- ed, and rather original." " I believe she will turn out well. Good-by, my dear Miss Liddell. I assure you, you are not more relieved by the result of the morn- insr's consultation than I am. CHAPTER XXVIII. KATHERINE IN OFFICE. THE beginning of a new life is rarely agreeable, and when the new- ness consists of poverty in place of riches, of service instead of com- plete freedom, occupations not particularly congenial instead of the exercise of unfettered choice, in such matters why, the contrast is rather trying. A fortnight after the interview just described, Katherine was thoroughly settled with Mrs Necdham. Although she justly considered herself most fortunate in finding a home si) easily, with so pleasant and kindly a patroness, she would have been more or less than human had she not felt the c ha n <_';;, which had befallen her. Mrs. Ormonde's conduct, too. had wounded l:er, more than it ought, perhaps, for she always knew her sister in I iw to be shallow and selfish, but not to the degree which she had lately betrayed. Her constant prayer was that she should be spared the torture of having to irive up her dear boys to such a mother and such a step- father. See thought she saw 'little, loving, delicate Charlie shrink- ing into himself, and withering under the contemptuous indifference and neglect of the Castleford household; and Cis bolder and 256 A CROOKED PATH. stronger hardening into defiance or deceit under the same influence. By the sort of agreement arrived at between Mr. Newton and Mrs. Ormonde, it was decided that so long- as Katherine provided for the maintenance of her nephews, their mother was only entitled to have them with her during the Christmas holidays ; and Colonel Ormonde was with some difficulty persuaded to allow the munificent sum of thirty pounds a year toward the education of his step-sons. This definite settlement was a great relief to Katherine's heart. How earnestly she resolved to keep herself on her infinitesimal stipend, and save every other penny for her boys! Of the trouble before her, in removing 1 them from Sandbourne to some inferior, because cheaper, school, she would not think. Sufficient to the day was the evil thereof. She therefore applied herself diligently to her duties. These were varied, though somewhat mechanical. Mrs. Needham's particular den was a very comfortable, well- furnished room at the back of the house, crowded with books and newspapers, and prospectuses, magazines, and all possible impedi- menta of journalism, on the outer edg'e of which women were be- ginning with faltering footsteps tentatively to tread. Mrs. Need- ham not only wrote "provincial letters " (with a difference!), but contributed social and statistical papers to several of the leading periodicals ; and one of Katherine's duties was to write out her rough notes, and make extracts from the books, Blue and others, the reports and papers which Mrs. Needham had marked. Then there were lots of letters to be answered and MSS. to be corrected. Besides these, Mrs. Needham asked Katherine as a favor to help her in her house-keeping, as it was a thing she hated ; " and what- ever you do," was her concluding instructions, "do not see too muclTof cook's doings. She is a clever woman, and after all that can be said about the feast of reason, the success of my little dinners depends on her. 1 don't think she takes things, but ghe is a little reckless, and I never could keep accounts." Katherine therefore found her time fully filled. This, however, kept her from thinking too much, and her kind chief was pleased with all she did. Her mind was tolerable at rest about the boys, her friends stuck gallantly to her through the shipwreck of her fortune, and yet her heart was heavy. She could not look forward with hope,' or back without pain. She dared not even let herself think freely, for she well knew the cause of her depression, and had vowed to herself to master it, to hide it away, and never allow her mental vision to dwell upon it. Work, and interest enforced, almost fevrrish interest in outside matters, were the only weapons with which she could fight the gnawing, aching pain of ceaseless regret that wore her heart. How insignificant is the loss of fortune, and all that fortune brings, compared to the opening of an impassable gulf between one's self and what has grown dearer than self, by that magic, inexplicable force of attraction which can rarely be resisted or explained ! Life with Mrs. Needham was very active, and although Katherine was necessarily left a good deal at home, she saw quite enough of A CROOKED PATH. 257 society in the evening to satisfy her. The all-accomplished Angela Bradley showed a decided inclination to fraternize with Mrs. Need- ham's attractive secretary, but for some occult reason Katherine did not respond. She fancied that Miss Bradley was disposed to look down with too palpably condescending 1 indulgence from the heights of her own calm perfections on those storms in a teacup amid which Mrs. Needham agitated, with such sincere belief in her own powers to ra r se or to allay them. Yet Miss Bradley was a really high- minded woman, only a little too well aware of her own superiority. She was always a favored guest at the "Shrubberies," as Mrs. Neeclham's house was called, and of course an attraction to Erring- ton, who was also a frequent visitor. The evenings, when some of the habitues dropped in on their way to parties, or returning from the theatre (Mrs. Needham never wanted to go to bed !), were bright and amusing. Moreover, Katherine had complete liberty of move- ment. If Mrs. Needham were going out without her 'secretary, Katherine was quite free to spend the time with Miss Payne, or with Rachel Trant, whom she found more interesting. At the house of the former she generally found Bertie ready to escort her home, always kindly and deeply concerned about her, but more than ever determined to convert her from her uncertain faith and worldly tendencies, to Evangelicalism and contempt for the joys of this life. Already the days of her heirship seemed to have been wafted away far back, and the routine of the present was becoming familiar. There was nothing oppressive in it. Yet she could not look for- ward. Hope had long been a stranger to her. Never, since her mother's death, since she had fully realized the bearings of her own reprehensible act, had she known the joy of a light heart Some such ideas were flitting through her mind as she was diligently copying Mrs. Needham's lucubrations one afternoon, when the parlor maid opened the door and said, as she handed her a card, " The lady is in the drawing-room, ma'am." The lady was Mrs. Ormonde. "Is Mrs. Needham at home?" "No, ma'am." It was rather a trial, this, meeting with Ada, but Katherine could not shirk it. She did not want to have any quarrel with the boys' mother, so she ascended to the drawing-room. There stood the pretty, smartly dressed little woman, all airy elegance, but the usually smiling lips were compressed, and the smooth white brow was wrinkh d with a frown. .She was examin- ing a book of photographs -most of them signed by the donors. "Oh, Katherine! how do you do?" she said, sharply, and not in tli - least abashed by any memory of their last meeting. "I arn up in town for a few days, and I couldn't leave without seeing you. You see I have too much feeling to turn mi/ back on an old inVnd, however injured I may be by circumstances over which you had no control. You are not looking w.-II, Katie; you are so white, and your eyes don't seem to be half open." "I am rjuite Avdl, I assure you," said Katherine, coar>t -.vor.ls sin; disappeared. "Lucky," repeated Katherine, as shj i-jturued to her task, " mine has been strange luck." Despite Mrs. Ormonde's assurances that De Burgh had quite for- gotten her, the news that he was once more in town disturbed Kath- erine. Unless some new fancy had driven her out of his head, sho felt sure that his first step in the new and independent existence on which he had entered would be to seek her out and renew the offer he had twice made before. Money or no money, position, circumstances, all were but a feather-weight compared to the impera- tive necessity of having his own way. It would be very painful to be obliged to refuse him again, for, in spite of her grave disapprobation of him in many ways, she liked him, and had a certain degree of confidence in him. There were the possibilities of a good character even in his faults, and it grieved her to ba obliged to pain him. "After all, I may be troubling myself about a vain image ; it is more than a month since I saw him. He is now a wealthy peer, and it is impossible to say how circumstances may have changed him." When Mrs. Needham had dressed for the dinner which was to pre- cede Madam Caravicelli's reception, Katherine put on her bonnet and cloak and set off to spend a couple of hours with Eachel Trant, not only to avoid a lonely evening, but to change the current of her thoughts loneliness and thought being her greatest enemies at present. She had grown quite accustomed to make har way by omnibus, and as the days grew longer and the weather finer, she hoped to be able to walk across Campden Hill, not only shortening the distance but saving the fare. A visit to Rachel amused Katherine and drew her out of herself more than anything ; the details of the business and management of property which she felt was her own had a large amount of interest real, living interest. The state of the books, the increase of custom, the addition to the small capital which Rachel was gradually accumulatu .g .ill these were subjects not easily ex- hausted. Both partners agreed that their great object, now that the undertaking was beginning to maintain itself, was to lay by all they could, for of course bad debts and bad times would come. 'It is a groat eatis "action to think that though people may do without boo;-,th your hair, Won't you? It's all rough where you have leaned < i, . our hand over your writing. It's no matter? Well, it doesn't much. Do you think he has any votes for the British Benevolent Institution for Aged Women?' I do so want to get my gardener's mother There, go, go, dear ! You had better not keep him waiting." And Kather- me was gently propelled out of the room. In truth, she was rather reluctant to face De Burgh, although she felt gratified and soothed by his taking the trouble to lind her out. Katherine found her visi'tor pacing up and down when she opened the drawing-room door, feeling vexed with herself for her changing color and the embarrassment she felt she displayed. De Burgh was looking taller and squarer than ever, but his dark face brightened so visibly as his eyes met Katherine's, that she felt a pang as she thought how unmoved she was herself. "I thought you had escaped from sight !" he exclaimed, holding her hand for a'moment longer than was absolutely necessary. "The tirst time I went to look for you in the old place", I was simply told you had left, by a stupid old woman who knew nothing. Then I called again and asked for Miss you know whom I mean; shu is rather a brick, and told me all about you. In the mean time I met Mrs. Ormonde. I was determined not to ask 1m anything she is such a selfish little devil. Now here I am face to face wi'.h you at last." And he drew a chair opposi e her,and was silent fora minute, gazing with a wistful look in her face. "You have not a very high opinion of my sister-in-law," said Katherine, beginning as far awav from themselves as she could. "She is an average woman," he said, shortly. "But tell me, what is the matter with you ? I did not think you were the sort of girl to break your heart over the loss of a fortune." "But 1 have not broken my heart !" she exclaimed, somewhat startled by his positive tone. "There's a look of pain in your eyes, a despondency in your very figure; don't you think I know every turn of you? Well, I won't say more if it* annoys you. We have changed places, Katherine I mean Miss Liddell. Fortune has given me a turn at last, and I have been tremendously busy. I had no idea how troublesome it is to be rich. There are compensations, however. This doesn't seem a bad sort of place " looking round at the crowd of china and bric-a-brac ornaments and the comfortable chairs. "How did you come here, and what has been settled? Don't think me impertinent or intrusive; you know you agreed we should be friends, and you must not send me adrift !" "Thank you, Lord de Burgh. I am sure you could be a very loyal friend. My story is very short." And she gave him a brief sketch of how her affairs had been arranged. "By George ! Ormonde is a mean sneak. To think of his leaving those "boys on your hands ! and he has plenty of money. I happen to know that his wife has been dabbling in the stocks, and turned some money too. Now where did she get the cash to do it with but A CROOKED PATH. 269 from him ? So I suppose you intend to starve yourself in order to educate the poor little chaps?" "Oh no. On the contrary, I am living' on the fat of the land, with the kindest mistress in'the world." " Mistress ! Great heavens ! Why will vou persist in such a life?" "My dear Lord de Burgh, don't you know that it is not always easy to judge or to act for another ?" " Which means I am to mind my own business ?" "You have a very unvarnished style of stating- facts." "I know I have." A short pause, "and he began again. "Where are those boys now ? "At Sandbourne. But, alas ! I am going to take them away to- morrow. They are going to a school at Wandsworth." "Going down to Sandbourne tomorrow? Is Miss Payne going- with you?" " On no ; I don't need any one." " Nonsense ! you can't go about alone. I'll meet you at the station and escort you there." Katherine laughed. " I am afraid that would never do. You have increased in importance and I bave diminished, till the distance between our respective stations has widened far too much to permit of familiar intercourse, or ' " I never thought I should hear i/oit talking such rubbish. What difference can there be between us, except that vou are ag-ood woman and I am m.t a good man? 1 don't think it's -juke fair that on pur first meeting after ages at least quite two months of separation you should talk in this satirical way." " I speak the words of truth and soberness, Lord de Burgh." "Perhaps. I can't quite make you out. lam certain you have been in worse trouble than even want of money. I wish you'd con- fide in me. That's the right word, isn't it? Do you know, I can be very true to my friends, and silent as the grave. I could tell you everything." "Thank you. I am sure you could be a faithful friend." "Do you ever see Erring-ton ?" asked De Burgh, changing the subject abruptly. "Oh yes. He often comes here." " Indeed ? To see you, or Mrs. what's her name ?" "To see Mrs. Needham," returned Katherine. smiling-. "Hum ! 1 suppose he has a taste for mature beauty ?' Y " I do not know. At all events Mrs. Needham knows charming g-irls enough to suit all tastes, and Mr. Errington "Is too superior a fellow to be influenced by such attractions, eh?" piit in De Burgh. "I am not so sure;" and she laughed merrily. "I think there is one fair lady for whom he is inclined to forego his philosophic tranquility." " Ha ! I thought so. Yourself?" "Me! No, indeed! A young lady of high attainments and a large fortune." "Indeed? lam glad of it. He must b~ awfully hard up, poor devil !" 270 A CROOKED PATH. "Mr. Erring-ton can never be poor," cried Katherine, offended by the disparaging 1 epithet. " He carries his fortune in his brain." " Well, I am exceedingly thankful I carrv mine in my pocket," returned De Burgh, laughing. "Evidently Errington can do no wrong in your eyes. Let us wish him success in his wooing. So I am not to be your escort to Sandbourne? You ought to let me be your courier, I have knocked about so much. I thought I'd take to the road in the modern sense, when I came to my last sou, if the poor old lord had not died. Now I am going to be a pattern man as landlord, peer, and sportsman. Can't give up that, you know." "I do not see why you should." " I see you are looking at the clock ; that means I am staying too long. You don't know how delightful it is to sit here talking to you, without any third person to bore us." " I don't mean to be rude, Lord de Burgh, but you see I have letters to write for my chief." "The deuce you have ! It is too awful to see you in slavery." "Very pleasant, easy slavery." " So this chief of yours gives parties, receptions, at homes. Why doesn't she ask me?" "I am sure she would if she knew of your existence." "Do you mean to say you have never mentioned me to her, nor charged upon my many delightful and noble qualities?" " I am ashamed to sav I have not." Lord de Burgh rose slowly and reluctantly. "Are you going to bring the boys here ?" " No ; Miss Payne has most kindly invited them to stay with her. As yet she has not found any one to replace me. Poor little souls, I sliall be glad when their holidays are over, for I fear they are not the same joy to Miss Payne as they are to me." " Ah ! befieve me, you want some help in bringing up a couple of boys. Just fancy what Cis will be six or seven years hence. Why, he'll play the devil if he hasn't a strong hand over him." "I don't believe it !" cried Katherine, smiling. "Why should he be worse than " f h?,r boys?" " Why should he be better?" "Well, I can but do my best for them," said Katherine with a sigh. " I am a brute to prophesy evil, when you have enough to con- tend with already," cried De Burgh, taking her hand, and looking into her eyes with an expression she could not misunderstand. "You must not exaggerate my troubles," returned Katherine, with a sweet bright smile on her lips and in her eyes that thanked him for his sympathy, even while sne gently withdrew her hand. "I wish you would let me help you," said De Burgh ; and as her lips parted to reply, he went on. nastily : "No, no ; don't answer not yet, at least. You will onlv say something disagreeable, in spite* of vour charming lips. Now I'll not intrude on you any longer. 1 suppose there is no objection to my calling on tlTe young gentlemen at Miss Payne's, and taking them to a circus, or Madame Tussaud's, or any other dissipation suitM to their tender years?" " My dear Lori de Burgh, what an infliction for you ! and how A CROOKED PATH. 271 very good of you to think of them ! Pray do not trouble about them." "I understand," said De Burgh. "I'll leave my card for your chief below ; and be sure you don't forget me when you are sending out cards. By-the-way, I have a pressing invitation to Castleford. When I write to refuse I'll say I have seen you, and that I am going to take charge of the boys during the holidays." " No, no ; pray do not, Lord de Burgh," cried Katherine, eagerly. "You know Ada, and" "Are you ashamed to have me as a coadjutor?" interrupted De Burgh, laughing. "Trust me ; I will be prudent. Good-by for the present." Katherine stood in silent thought for a few moments after he had fone. She fully understood the meaning of his visit; though there ad been little or nothing of the lover in nis tone. He had come as soon as possible to place himself and all he had at her disposal. He was perfectly sincere in his desire to win her for his wife, and she almost regretted she could not return his affection : it might be true affection something beyond and above the dominant whim of an imperious nature. And what a solution to all her difficulties ! But it was impossible she could overcome the repulsion which the idea of marriage with any man she did not love inspired. There was to her but one in the world to whom she could hold allegiance, and he was forbidden by all sense of self-respect and modesty. How was it that, strive as she might to fill her mind to his exclusion, the moment she was off guard the image of Errington rose up clear and fresh, pervading heart and imagination, and dwarting every other object ? "How miserably, contemptibly weak I am, and have always been ! Why did I not stifle this wretched, overpowering attraction in the beginning ?" Ay ! but when did it begin ? This is a sort of question no heart can answer. Who can foresee that the tinv spring, forcing its way up among the 'stones and heather of a lonely hill-side, will grow into the broad river, which may carry peace and prosperity on its rolling tide to the lands be- low, or overwhelm them with destructive floods, according to the forces which feed it and the barriers which hedge it in ? CHAPTER "CIS AND CHARLIE." AGAIN the spring sunshine was lending perennial youth even to London's dingy streets, and making the very best winter garments look dim and shabby. Hunting was over, and Colonel Ormonde found himself by the will of his wife, once more established in Lon- don lodgings of a dingier and obscurer order than those in which they had enjoyed last season. Mrs. Ormonde was neither intellectually nor morally strong, but she had one reflex ingredient in her nature which was to her both 272 A CROOKED PATH. a shield and spaar. She knew what she wanted, and was perfectly unscrupulous as to the means of getting* it. A woman who is pleas- antly indifferent to the wants and wishes of her associates, if they happen to clash with her own, is tolerably sure to have her own way on the whole. Now and then, to be sure, she comes to grief ; but in her general success these failures can be afforded. When first the tidings of George LiddelPs return and his assertion of his rights reached her, she was terrified and undone by Colonel Ormonde's fury against Katherine, herself, her boys, every one. In short, that gallant officer thought he had done a" generous and manly thing, when he married the piquant little widow who had attracted him, although she could only meet her personal expenses 'and those of hor two sons, without contributing to the general house- keeping. This sense of his own magnanimity, backed by the con- sciousness that it did not cost him too dear, had kept Colonel Or- monde in the happiest of moods for the first years of his married life. Terrible was the awakening from the dream of his own good luck and general " fine-fellowism " ; and heavily would the punish- ment have fallen on his wife had she been a sensitive or high- minded woman. Being, however, admirably stiited to the partner of her life, she looked round, as soon as the first burst of despair was over, to see how she could make the best of her position. She was really vexed and irritated to find how little tenderness or regard her husband felt for her, for she had always believed that he was greatly devoted to her. To both of them the outside world was all in all,' and on this Mrs. Ormonde counted largely. Colonel Ormonde could not put her away or lock her up because the pro- vision made by Katlierine for the boys failed her, so while she was mistress of Castleford she must have dresses and carriages and consideration. Knowing herself secure on these points, she fear- lessly adopted the system of counter-irritation she described to Katherine ; and to do her justice, her consciousness that the boys were safe tinder the care of their aunt, who would be sure to treat them well and kindly, made her the more ready to brave the dangers of her husband's wrath. " He must behave well before people, or men will say he is a 'cad ' to visit his disappointment on his poor little simple-hearted wife," she thought. " He knows that. Then it is an enormous relief that Katherine still clings to the boys, poor dears ! She really is a trump ; so I have only myself to think of ; and Duke shall find that his shabbiness and ill-temper do him no good. It's like drawing his teeth to get my quarter's allowance, beggarly as it is, from him." Colonel Ormonde's reflections, as he composed a letter to his stew- ard, were by no means soothing. Though it was all but impossible for him to hold his tongue respecting his disappointment, whenever a shade of difference occurred between him and his wife, he was un- comfortably conscious that he often acted like a brute toward the mother of his boy, of whom he was so proud ; he was not therefore the more disposed to rule his hasty, inconsiderate temper. The fact that Mrs. Ormonde had her own methods of paying him back disposed him to respect her, and it could not be doubted that in time the faiction of their natures would rub off the angles of each, and they I A CROOKED PATH. would settle down into tolerable harmony, whereas a proud, true- hearted woman in her place would have been utterly crushed and never forgiven. Ormonde, then, was meditating- on his undeserved misfortunes, when the door was somewhat suddenly and vehemently pushed open, and Mrs. Ormonde came in, her eyes sparkling 1 , and evidently in some excitement. ' What's the matter?" <;s'-;ed her husband, not too amiably. "Has that rascally, intruding- follow Liddell kicked the bucket?" "No ; but whom no you think i saw as I was leaving Mrs. Ben- nett's in Hyde Park Square, you know?" " How can I tell ? The policeman perhaps." "Nonsense, Duke ! I had just comedown the steps, and was turn ing toward Padding-ton, for, as it was early, I thought I would take the omnibus to Oxiord Circus (see luw careful I am !), when I saw a beautiful dark brougham, drawn by splendid black horse the coachman, the whole turnout, quite firsc rate come at a dashing pace towards me. I recognized Lord de Burgh inside, and who do you think was sitting- beside him?" "God knows i The Sarato.Tski perhaps." "Really, Ormonde, 1 am astonished at your mentioning that dreadful woman to me. " Oh ! are you? Well, who was De Burgh's companion ?" " Charlie ! my Charlie ! and Cis was on the front seat. Cis saw me, for he clapped his hands and pointed as they flew past. "Wliac do you think of that ?" "By George !" he exclaimed, in capital letters. " I believe he is still after Katherine. If so, she'll have the devil's own luck." "Now listen to me. As Wilton Street was quite n jar, I went on there to gather what I could from Miss Payne. She was at home, and a little less sour and silent then usual. She was sorry, she said, the boys were out. They have been with her for a week, and Lord de Burgh had been most kind. He had taken them to the Zoological Gardens and Madame Tussaud's, and just now had called for them to go to the circus, isn't it wonderful ? Do try and picture De Burgh at Madame Tussaud's." "There is only only one way of accounting for such strange con- duct," returned the Colonel, 'thoughtfully. "He mean* to marry your sister. This would change the face of a!"airs considerably." " Yes ; it would be delightful." " I'm not so sure of that," returned Ormonde, seriously. "Now that he is in love and you know he is all fire and tow he makes a fuss about the boys ; but wait till he is married, and he will try to shift them back on you. "Why should he put up with his wife's nephews any mere than I do with nui wife's sons?' " Because he is more in love, and a good deal richer," returned Mrs. Ormonde. "More in love! Bosh! In the middle of the fever, you mean. Of course that will pass over." " Really men are great brutes," observed Mrs. Ormonde, philo- sophically. " And women awful fools," added her husband. 274 A CROOKED PATH. "Well, perhaps so," she returned, with a slight smile and a sharp glance. "Seriously, though," resumed Colonel Ormonde, "it's all very well for Katherine to make a good match, and if De Burgh is fool enough to be in earnest, it will be a splendid match for her ; but things may be made rather rough for me. That fellow De Burgh has the queerest crotchets, and doesn't hesitate to air them. He'd think nothing of slapping my shoulder in the club before a dozen mem- bers, and asking me^if I meant to leave my wife's brats on his hands." "Do you really think so? Oh, Katherine would never let him. She dearly loves the boys." " Wait'till she has a son of her own." " Even so. She has her faults, I know. Her temper is rather violent, her ideas are two highnown and nonsensical, and she won't take advice, but she never would injure me, I am sure of that." An inarticulate grunt from Colonel Ormonde, as he fixed his double glass on his nose and took up his pen again. " Duke," resumed Mrs. Ormonde, after a pause, "don't you think I had better go and see Katherine? You know we never had any quarrel, and that Mrs. Needham she lives with gives very nice parties." " Parties ! By Jove ! you'd go to old Nick for a party. What good will it do you to meet a pack of beggarly scribblers ? "They may not have money, Duke, but they have >; gh, drawing near. "They are lighter a good deal lighter." "Perhaps so. The shape and expression are like, though. And so you have been to see the lions and tigers?" "And the bears," put in Charlie. " Isn't Lord de Burgh kind to take you' "He is ! he's a jolly chap !" cried Cecil, warmly. "I shouldn't mind living with him." " Nor I ei her," added Charlie. Here Katherine made her appearance, a conscious look in her eyes, a flitting blush on her cheek. The boys immediately flew to hug and kiss her, barely allowing her to shake hands with De Burgh. Then, when she sat down on the sofa, Charlie established himself on her knee and Cecil knelt on the sofa, the better to put his arms round her neck. "What dreadfully dirty little boys ! What have you been doing to yourselves?" " Oh, we have been on the elephant and the camel, and in the ostrich cart. Then Charlie tumbled down in the monkey -house. Oh, how funny the monkeys are! and he" (pointing to Lord de Burgh) ''took us to dinner. Such a be lUtiful dinner in a lovely room ! He says he will take us to the circus." " I'll ask him to take you too, auntie !" cried Charlie. "Oh ves !" echoed Cecil. " You'll take her, Lord de Burgh, won't you? I don't think auntie ever saw a circus." " If you promise to be very good, and that your aunt too will be quiet and well-behaved, I may be induced to let her come," re urned De Burgh, his deep-set eyes glittering with fun and anticipated pleasure. "Tim:!!: y >u," said Katherine, laughing, as soon as her delighted nephew c.-jis (! kissing her. "And you'll come? the day after to-morrow? I will call for the boys, bring them round here." " If 1 have nothing special " she began. "Certainly not ; I will take care of that," cried Mrs. Needham. " It is such a great thing to get a little amusement for the poor little fellows, and so very kind of Lord de Burgh to take so much trouble." "It is indeed. I really don't know how to thank you enough," said Katherine. "Mrs. Needham, I must really take them to wash their hands ; they are so terribly dirty !" "No: ring the bell ; Ford will manage them nicely, and bring them back in a few minutes." Mrs. Needham rang energetically as she spoke, and the young gentlenvn were speedily marched off, A CROOKED PATH, 2V 7 " I am afraid lam not a wise child's guide," said De Burgh, laug-k ing; "but they ran and tumbled about till they got into an awful pickle. They are really capital little fellows, and most amusing-. When do they go back to schojl?" " In about ten days on the 25th. I assure you I quite dread their going to this Wandsworth place. They have been asking, entreating' me to let them go back to Sandbourne, but I think Cis at last grasps the idea that it is a question of money. 1 ' " It's an early initiation for him," observed De Burgh, as if to him- self. Then, eagerly: "You'll be sure to come with us on Friday, Miss Liddellr 1 The boys will enjoy the performance ever so much niora if you are with them." Katherine looked for half a second at Mrs. Needham, who nodded and frowned in a very energetic and affirmative way. "I shall bo very glad to enjoy it with them," she said, hesitatingly, "if Mrs. Needham can spare me." "Of course I can," briskly. "Lord do Burgh, if you cave for music not severe classical music, you know ballads,' recitatives, and that sort of thing Hyacinth O'Hara, the new tenor, and Mr. Merrydew, that wonderful mimic and singer, are coining to me next Tuesday ; I shall be delighted to sec you." " Not so delighted, I am sure, as I shall be to come," returned De Burgh, with unusual suavity. " Very well half past nine. Don't be late, and don't forget." "No danger of forgetting, I assure you." " By -the-bye," resumed Mrs. Necdfiam, as if seized with a happy thought, "Angela Bradley receives on Sunday afternoons at theft delightful villa at Wimbledon all through the season. Her first ' at homy ' will be the Sunday after next. I am sure she will be delight- ed to see any friend of Miss LiddelFs." "If MissLiddell will be so good as to answer for me, I shall be most happy to present myself. To make sure of being properly backed up^ suppose I call here for Miss Liddell and yourself, and and drive you down ? " Is it not rather far off to make arrangements?" asked Kather- ine, growing somewhat uneasy at thus drifting into a succession of of engagements with the man she half liked, half dreaded. "l'aro;n" echoed Mrs. Needham. "You don't call ten days far off'? But I must run away and finish my letter. A journalist is the slave of her pen. Good morning, Lord de Burgh. I'll send the boys to you, Katherine." "That is an admirable and meritorious woman, " and De Burgh, drawing a chair beside the sofa where Katherine sat. "Why are you so savagely opposed to anything like friendly intercourse with me so reluctant to let me do anything for you? Do you think I am such a cad as to think that anything I could do would entitle mo to consider you under an obligation?" "No, indeed, Lord de Burgh! I believe you to be too true a gentle* man for 1 "For what? i see you are afraid of giving me what is called, in the slang of the matrimonial market, encouragement. Just put all that oUt of your mind. Let me have a little enjoyment, 278 A CROOKED PATH. things may end, and, believe me, I'll never blame you. I am nos going to trouble you with my hopes and wishes, not at least for some time ; and then, whatever the upshot, on my head be it." "But I cannot bear to give voupaiu." " Then don't' "Auntie, we are quite clean. Won't you come back to tea at Miss Payne's'? Do make her come, Lord de Burgh. " Ah, it is beyond my powers to make her dp anything." "I cannot come now, my darlings; but I will be with vou about half past six, and we'll have a game before you go to bed." "Come along, boys; we have intruded on your aunt long enough. Don't forget the circus on Friday, Miss Liddell." Another hug from Cis and Charlie, a slight hand pressure from their newly found playfellow, and Katherine was left to her own reflections. The expedition to the circus was most successful. It was on his way from Wilton Street to call for Katherine, on this occasion, that De Burgh encountered Mrs. Ormonde. Need we say that she lost no time in making the proposed call on her sister-in-law; unfor- tunately Katherine was out; so Mrs. Ormonde was reduced to writ- ing a requisition for an interview with her boys and their aunt. This was accordingly planned at Miss Payne's house, and Mrs. Ormonde was quite charming, playful, affectionate, tearful, repen- tant, apologetic for "Ormonde," and deeply moved at parting from her boys, who where somewhat awed by this display of feeling. Still she did not succeed in breaking the "cold chain of silence' which Katherine persisted in "hanging" over the events of the past week. " So De Burgh took the boys about everywhere?" said Mrs. Or- monde, as Katherine went down-stairs with her when she was leav- ing, and they were alone together. "It is something new for him to play the part of children's maid; and, do you know, he only left cards on us, and never asked to come in." "He was always good-natured," returned Katherine, with some embarrassment; "and, you remember, he used to notice C'is and Charlie at Castleford a good deal." " Yes; after you came," significantly. " Never mind, Katie den 1 , I am not going to worry you wiih troublesome questions, bur I am sure no one in the world would be more delighted than niysif did you make a brillant match." " Believe me, there will never be anything brilliant about me, Ada." " Well, we'll see. When do you take the boys to school." "On Wednesday; should you like to come and see the place?" "I should like it of all things, but I mustn't, dear." "I do hope the school may prove all I expect; but the change will be bad for Charlie. He hau lost nearly all his nervousness; strange teachers and a new system may bring it back." " Oh, I hope not. Does he still stop short and speechless, and then laugh as if it were a good joke, when he is puzzled or frightened?" "Very rarely, I believe. I will write to you the day after I leave A CROOKED PATH. 279 the boys at Wandsworth. They don't like going at all, poor dears.'' " Well, we shall not be much longer in town, I am sorry to say, and I want a few things from Miss Trant before I go. I suppose sue will not raise her prices to me ?" " Oh no, I am sure she will not." CHAPTEE 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 explain- ed that his sister had been called away about some business connect- ed with a lady with whom she was trying to come to terms respect- ing 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," returred 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, 1 do not think I should have agreed tosendCis and Charlie there ; but now I am committed to a quarter. I cannot aTord to indulge whims, and, at all events, they arc 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 tilings above. I have been learning this lesson of late as I never thought I should have to learn it." " }>,- p_yo who are so good, so unworldly? Oh, Mr. Payne, what do you mean ? You are looking ill ai.d worn." " I have been fighting a battle of late," he returned, with his sue;'t, patient smile, " and I have conquered. The right road has n 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 poo pie 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 sue cessful ? 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, ia 280 A CROOKED PATR my opinion, unfit them for a faith such as ours, and who never, never will accept our religion !" " Hush !" cried Pavne, in an excited tone. " Do not torture me by showing the appalling gulf which separates us. Strange that a heart so tender as vours to all mere human miseries should yet be adamant against the Saviour's lovin"' touch. This has been my cruel ci . ss. and my only safety lies in flight, wretched man that I am !" i am dreadfully distressed about you, Mr. Payne. Does your L'. . . r know ? It is really unkind to her." "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 AVI 11. 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 knoAv 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 }'oung 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 Avith a very sad heart. The parting with her nephews had been a sore trial. The idea of Bertie, hc-r 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 sa\-e, caused her the keen- est 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 Avas so vividly before her eyes ; his voice sounded so perpetually in !UT heart. Why could she not think thus of De Burgh, whose deA'otion to he: was evident, and whom, in spite of herself as it seemed, she Avas, to a certain degree, encouraging ? She felt unutterably helpless and oppressed. Moreover, she '.vas distressed by the consciousness that the small reserA r e fund which she had with difficulty preserved, could barely meet unexpected de- mands such as removing the boys from school, if necessary, an attack of illness, a dozen contingencies, any or all of whichVere possible, if not imminent. Such a mood made her feel peculiarly unfit to shine at Mis. Need- ham's reception. Still it Avas better to be obliged to talk and to think about others than to brood perpetually on her ov/n troubles. So she arrayed herself in one of the pretty soft grey demi -toilette A CROOKED PATH. 281 dresses which remained among' her well-stocked wardrobe, and pre- pared to assist her chief in receiving 1 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. Presently Katherine caught sight of a stately head above the general level of the crowd, and a pair of grave eyes evidently seek- ing something. Who was Errington looking for? Miss Bradley, of course ! As she arrived at this conclusion, De Burgh appeared at the head of the stairs, looking, as he always did, extremely dis- tinguishedhis dark strong face showing in remarkable contrast to the simpering young minstrels, pale young poets, and long-haired professors who formed the larger half of the male guests. " Well, Miss Liddell, are you quite well and flourishing? Why, it is quite three days since I saw you," he asked, and his eyes dwelt on her with a look of utter restful satisfaction a look that disturbed her. "Is it, indeed? They seem all rolled into a single disagreeable one to me." *'Tell me all about it," said De Burgh, in a low confidential tone. "Must you stand here in the gangway? it's awfully hot and crowded. 1 ' Before she could reply, Errington forced his way through the crowd, and addressed her. "I began to fear I should not find you, Miss Liddell," he said, with a pleasant smile. " i have been away for some time though perhaps vou were not aware of it." " 1 was aware we did not see you as frequently as usual. Where have you been ?" "On a secret and delicate mission wh'ch taxed all my diplomatic skill, for I had to deal wi:h au extreme y crotchetty Scotchman." "You make me feel desperately curious," said Katherine, lan- guidly. "How do you do, Errington?'' put in De Burgh. "I heard of you in Edinburgh last wei-k ;" a;id they exchanged a few wonls. Then, to Kafcherme's annoyance, U- Har-ii s.-r>]< worried and ill. That's not a civil speech, I suppose ; but, ill or well, you h-n->tr your face is always the sweetest to me, and I am always dying to know what you are thinking of There, I will not worry you now ; but shall you be ' ti t ' for this function on Sunday ?" " Oh, yes. quite." " I am obliged to run down to Wales some matters there want the master's eye, they tell me but I shall return Friday or Saturday. By the way, I wish you would introduce me to this wonderful Angela of Mrs. Need ham's." "Certainly." On entering: the draAvinoroom, the first forms that met their eyes Were Erring-ton and Miss Bradley ; she was sitting in a large crim- A CROOKED PATH. 283 son velvet chair, against the back of which Erring-ton was leaning-. Angela was looking up at him with a peculiarly happy, absorbed ex- pression, while his nead was bent towards her "She is deucedly handsome," said De Burgh, critically, "and much too pleasantly engaged to be interrupted. I can wait." " Yes, I think it would be unkind to break in on such a conver- sation. Oh, here is Mrs. Needham ' Do you want me very much, Mrs. Needham '? because, if not, 1 should like to go to bed. 1 have a tiresome headache." "Go by all means, my dear ; you are looking like a ghost ; they are all talking and amusing each other now, and don't want you or me." "Goodnight, then, said Katherine, giving her hand to De Burgh, and she glided away "What a lot she takes out of herself!" said De Burgh, looking after her. " She does indeed," cried Mrs. Needham ; " she is so unselfish. 1 hate to see her worried. I wonder if he has proposed?" she thought. " I think he is pretty far gone. Now pray don't run away just now ; Merrydew is going to give one of his musical sketches, and then I want to introduce you to Professor Gypsum. He thinks there ought to be a rich coal seam on your South Wales property ; he is a most intelligent, accomplished man." " Very well with pleasure," said De Burgh, complacently. It was rather a relief to be quite sure that De Burgh was safe out of the way for a few days His presence always disturbed her with a mixed sense of pain and self-reproach, He gave her no opening to warn him off, yet she felt that he lost no opportunity of pushing his mines up to the defences ; and she liked him liked him sincerely always believing there was much undeveloped goodness under his rough exterior. Sunday came qxiickly, for the intervening days had been very fully occupied, and thus Katherine had been saved from too much thought of the boys and their possible trials. It was a soft, lovely spring day. The lilacs and laburnums had put on their ball-dresses for the season, and there was a fresh, youth- ful feeling in the air The villa of which Angela was the "happy m 'stress was one of the few old places standing on the edge of the common at Wimbledon, and boasting mossy green lawns, huge cedar trees, and delightful shrubberies, paths leading through a well-disposed patch of plantation, and a fine view from the windows of the deep red brick mansion, with its copings, window-heads, and pediments of white stone Katherine started with a brave determination to throw off dull rare and enjoy herself, if possible why should she not ? Life had many sides, and, though the present was gloomy, there was no reason why its clouds should not hide bright sunshine which lay awaiting th'o future. She had manoeuvred that Mrs. Needham should join an elderly couple of their acquaintance in an open carriage, and so avoided appearing in Lord de Burgh's elegant equipage. The grounds were already dotted with gaily dressed groups ; for, although there were no formally invited guests, Miss Bradley 's Sun- 284 A CROOKED PATH. days were largely attended by her extensive circle of acquaintance, and this first babbath of really fine spring- weather brought a large number than usual. " I am glad you put on that pretty black and white dress, " whisper- ed Mrs. Needham, as they alighted and went into the hall. "I see everyone is in their best "bibs and tuckers ; isn't it a lovely house ! Ah ! many a poor author's brain has paid toll to provide all this. " ; I suppose so." " Miss Bradley is in the conservatory," said a polite butler, and into a deliciously fragrant conservatory they were ushered. " Very glad to see you, Miss Liddell," said Angela, kindly, Avhen she had greeted Mrs. Needham. ' ' This is your first visit to the Court. Do you know I wanted to ask you to come down to us for a few days ; but, when I looked for you at Mrs. Needham 's the other night, you had vanished, and sincel have been so much taken up, as I will explain later, that I have been quite unable to write. I hope you will manage to pay us a visit next week ; the air here is most reviving." " You are too good, Miss Bradley," returned Katherine, touched by her kind tone. " If Mrs. Needham can spare me, I shall of course be delighted to come ;" and she resolved mentally that she should not be spared. "Major Urquhart," continued Miss Bradley, turning to a very tall, thin, soldierly-looking man, who might once have been fair, but was now burnt to brickdust hue, with long tawny moustache and thick overhanging e.vebrows of the same color, " pray take Miss Liddell round the grounds, and show her my favorite fernery." Major Urquhart bowed low and presented" his arm. "I see," continued Angela, "that Mrs. Needham is already ab- sorbed by a dozen dear friends." " You have not been here before," said Major Urquhart, in a deep hollow voice. "Never." " Charming place ! immensely improved since I went to India five years ago." "Miss Bradley has great taste," remarked Katherine. " Wonderful astonishing ; she has made all this fernery since I was here last." Then there was a long pause, and a few more sentences ex- pressive of admiration we re exchanged, and somehow Kath.'rii.e began to feel that her companion was rather bored and preoccupied, so she turned her steps towards the house, intending to release him. At the further side of the fernery, in a pretty path between green banks, they suddenly met Errington face to face. "Miss Bradley want's you, Urquhart," he said, as soon as they had exchanged salutations. "You may leave Miss Liddell in my charge, if she will permit." Major Urquhart bowed himself off, and Errington continued, "You would not suspect that was a very dis- tinguished officer. " "I don't know ; he seems very silent and inanimate." " Well, I assure you he is a very fine fellow, and did great deeds A CROOKED PATH, 285 in the Mutiny But come, the lawn is looking- quite picturesque in the sunshine, with the groups of people scattered about. It would be perfect were it sleeping- in the tranquil silonce of a restful Sabbath day." " Are you not something- of a hermit in your tastes ?" asked Kath erine, looking- UD at him with one of her sunny smiles. "By no means. I like the society of my fellow-men, but I like a spell of solitude every now and then, as a rest and refresh ment on the dusty road of life." " 1 begin to think peace the greatest boon heaven can bestow." " Yes, after the late vicissitudes, it must seem to you the greatest good. Let us sit down under this cedar ; there is a pretty peep across the common to the blue distance. We might be hundred miles from London, everything is so calm." They sat silent for a few moments, a sense of peace and safety stealing over Katherine's heart. Suddenly Errington turned to her, and said, " Our friend De Burgh can scarcely know himself in his new con- dition." " He seems remarkably at home, however. I hop he will distin- guish himself as an enlightened and benevolent legislator." "He must be a good deal changed if he does. You have seen a great deal of him, 1 believe, since he returned to London ?" "I have seen him several times. He seems to get on with Mrs. Needham." "With Mrs. Needham?" repeated Errington, in a slightly mock- ing tone, and elevating his eyebrows in a way that made Katherine blush for her uncandid remark. *' Well, Mrs. Needham seems to have taken immensely to him." " I can understand that. De Burgh has wherewithal now to re- commend him to most party-g'iving dowagers." " That spcach is not like you, Mr. Errington ; you know my dear good chief is utterly uninfluenced by worldy considerations. Lord de Burgh has been very good and helpful to me with the boys, I assure you," said Katherine, feeling that she changed color under Errington's watchful eyes. "Yes, I have no doubt he could be boundlessly kind where he wishes to please more, I think he is a generous fellow , but J am going to be ill-natured," he said, with a slight change of tone, "and, as vou have allowed me the privilege of a friend, I must beg you to reflect that De Burgh is a man of imperious tempor, given to srnne- what reckless seeking of what he desires, and riot too steady in his attachments. Though in every sense a man of honor, and by no means without heart, yet I fear as a companion he would be disturb- ing, if not " "Why do you warn me?" cried Katherine, growing somewhat pale. " And what has poor Lord de Burgh done to earn your disap- probation?" " I know I am somewhat Quixotic and unguarded in speaking thus to you ; but it would be affectation to say I did not perceive De Burgh's very natural motive. There is much about him that is at- tractive to women, apart from his exceptional fortune and position ; 286 A CROOKED PATH, but I doubt if he could make a woman like you happy. If the ease and luxury he could bestow ever prove tempting-, 1 do not think that anything- except sincere affection would enable you to Jin-mount the difficulty of dealing- with a character like his " \Yliile Erring-ton spoke with quiet but impressive earnestness, a perverse spirit entered into Katherine Liddeil. Here was this man, sailing- triumphantly on the crest of g-ood fortune, about to ally him- S',-li to a woman, g-ood, certainly, and suited to him, but also rich eaoiig-h to set him above all care and money troubles, urging coun- sels of perfection on her. Why was she to be advised to reject a man who certainly loved her by one who only felt a temperate and conde- scending- friendship for her? How could he judge what amount of influence DC Burgh's affection for herself might give her? " I ought to feel deeply grateful to you for overstepping- the limits of conventionality in order to give me what is, no doubt, sound advice/' "Do you mea* that as a rebuke?" asked Erring-ton, leaning- a little forward to look into her eyes. "Do you not think that a friendship, founded as ours is on most exceptional and unconven- tional circumstances, gives me a sort of rig-ht to speak of matters which may prove of the last importance to you? You cannot realize how deeply interested I am in your welfare, how ardently I desire yoiir happiness " The sincerity of his tone thrilled Katherine with pain and pleasure. It was delightful to hear him speak thus, yet it would be better for her never to hear his voice again. " I daresay I am petulant," she said, looking down, " and you are generally rig-ht ; but don't you think in this case you are looking- too far ahead, and attributing- motives to Lord de Burgh of which he may be entirely innocent?'' "Of that you are the best judge," returned Errington, coldly; and silence, fell upon them a silence which Katherine felt to be so awkward that she rose, saying, "I must iind Mrs. Needham ; she will wonder where lam ;" and, Erring-ton making no objection, they strolled slowly towards the front of tho house, where most of the visitors were standing or sitting about. There they soon discovered Mrs. Needham, in lively conversation with Lord de Burgh, who was a good deal observed by those present a; is is name and position were well known to almost all of Mrs. \,v;lham's set. He turned quickly to greet Katherine, and spoke no!; too cordially to Errington, who after some talk with Mrs. Nt'.xl- hatfi. quietly withdrew, and kept rather closely to Angela's side. The rest of the afternoon was spoiled for Katherine by a sense of irritation with Lord de Burgh, who scarcely left her, thereby making her so conspicuous that she could hardly .vsfrainfrom telling him. " What is the matter with you?" asked De Burgh, as they walked together behind Mrs. Needham to the gate where their carriage awaited them "Do you know you have hardly said a civil word to me what have I done ?" "You are mistaken! I never meant to be uncivil, I am only tired, and I have rather a headache." A CROOKED PATH. 287 " You often have headaches. Are you sure the ache is in your head ?" "No, I am not, "said Catherine, franUy. "Don't you know what it is to be out of sorts ?" "Don't I though? If that's what ails you I can understand vou well enoug-h. I wish you would let me prescribe for you : a nice long- wandering- through Switzerland, over some old' passes into Italy (they are more delicious than ever, now that they are deserted) and then a winter in Rome." "Thank you," returned Kathorine, laughing-. "Perhaps you might also recommend horse exercise on an Arab steed." " Yes, I should. You would look stunning in a habit." "Dreams, idle dreams. Lord de JBUrgh. I shall be all ri-ht to- morrow." " I intend to come and see you if vou are," he returned sie-nifi- cantly. "To-morrow I shall be out all the afternoon," said Katherino, quickly. "Some other day then," he replied, with resolution. "Good-morning, Lord de Burgh, or rather good evening, for it is seven o'clock," said Mrs. Needham. " Charming place, isn't it ?" " Very nice, indeed. I suppose I have the freedom of the house now, through your favor " "Certainly ; good-bye, come and see us soon." "May I ?" he whispered, as he handed Katherine into ths carriage She smiled and shook her h -ad, looking so sweet and arch that De Burgh could not help pn ssing her hand hard as he muttered something of which she could only catch the word -' mischief." " Well," said Mrs. Needham, when they had left the villa behind, and she had succeeded in wrapping a woollen scarf closelv round her throat, for the evening had "Town chill, "I knew 1 was right all along, and now old Bradley himself has as good as told me that Angela is engaged to Krrmg^on." " Ind. ed !' said the lady, who shared their conveyance. " What did he say ?" " He w"as sitting with me on the lawn, and Miss Bradley went past between Errington and that tall military-looking man, who did not seem to know anyone ; so I just rein irked what a distinguished sort of person Mr. Errington was, and Bradley, looking after ) rn in an exulting sort of way, said. "Distinguished ! 1 believe vou. That man, ma-am," (you know his style) "will be in the front rani, before long. I recognized his power from the first, and, wh-v .-. more, so did Angela. I am going to give a proof of my con fid in him that will astonish everyone; you'll hear of it in a week 01 two." Now what can that mean but that he is going to trust his daughter to him ? You see, Errington is like a son of the huus". I am heartily glad, for I have reason to know that he has been greatly attached to her a considerable time, and they are admirably suited." "Well ! he is a very lucky fellow ; independent of all the money Bradley has made, this new magazine of his is a splendid property.''' Arid Katherine, listening in silence, told herself that one chapter of her life was closed for over. 288 A CROOKED PATH. CHAPTER XXXII ILL MET. A NOTE from Mrs. Ormonde next morning informed Katherine that she had returned to Castleford, and recorded her deep regret that she could not call before leaving- town, but that time was too short, al- th 'Ugh they had delayed their departure for a couple of days. " We rn^t Lord de Burgh at Lady Mary Vincent's; you can't think what a fuss she made about him. 1 remember when she would not ]