CHAPTER I.—SURMISES.
A dreary evening, rain and sleet chasing each other alternately, and making the streets of the busy town of Seabright dismal as streets can well be. Yet there must be some fascination in the outdoor scene, or Katie Grey would not stand so long peering out of the window into the dim dark night. Presently a carriage comes in sight; splash go the horses' feet into the deep mud; there is a quick rattle of wheels, a sudden glitter of white dresses, scarlet cloaks, and brilliant uniforms through the misty windows, and the vehicle passes rapidly out of sight.
Katie adds up on her fingers: 'That makes the tenth carriage. Everybody is invited except us. Why—why have we been left out?'
Miss Grey is standing alone in a darkened room. She has turned down the gas, that she may see without being seen, and she remains hidden in the shade of the deep crimson curtains. There is a party at Government House this evening. News has reached her of numerous invitations that have been issued, and she is mystified and perplexed that neither note nor card nor message has found its way to her house. Hitherto Katie has been a favoured guest at the Admiral's. No festive occasion has seemed complete without her presence. She has sung to Sir Herbert Dillworth, played for him, talked to him; and he has stood entranced beside the piano, whispering thanks, that she has interpreted at their full value. 'What can have changed him now?' She has asked herself that question over and over again; but so far no answer has come to her restless surmises. Presently a hack cab comes in sight; and instead of driving past the window, it stops suddenly at her door, deposits its burden, and goes on its way. Katie distinguishes a flash of gold-lace and hears the rattle of a sword on the door-steps. Wondering much who can have come to the wrong house, she starts when a servant throws open the door and announces 'Captain Reeves.'
Katie comes out from the crimson curtains in much confusion, vexed at the bare possibility of being suspected of spying at guests more favoured than herself. With a flushed cheek she turns on the gas and quickly goes forward to greet her visitor. Captain Reeves is a tall man, with dark hair, keen dark eyes, and with an unmistakable air of being on perfectly good terms with himself. He wears full naval uniform, and has ribbons and clasps on his breast. His first look at Katie is one of amazement, for he sees she is in her usual home costume, and is not dressed for the party at Government House.
'What! not ready, Miss Grey!' he exclaims quickly.
'Ready for what?' inquires the young lady with transparent dissimulation. Whatever her private discomfiture may be, she has no intention of proclaiming it to all the world—least of all to Walter Reeves.
'We shall be late. Your mamma offered me a seat in your carriage; so I have taken her at her word, and am come to join your party.'
'We are not going to the Admiral's to-night.'
'Not going! Is anybody ill?' He starts back a step, as though the news is incredible; and Katie laughs merrily.
'We are all quite well, thank you; but we don't consider ourselves bound to attend every party. You don't grudge us a quiet evening at home sometimes, do you?'
'O no, certainly not; but I'm sorry your taste for retirement asserts itself to-night. I'm horridly disappointed; and if there's anything in the world I hate, it's these semi-official, stuck-up assemblies. I'd far rather stay here and have a chat with your father.'
Walter Reeves has seated himself by this time, and is watching Katie, as she plucks off a geranium leaf from a stand near her and crushes it between her fingers.
'You'll be sure to enjoy yourself when you get there.'
'I'm very sure I shan't. You 're the only one I cared to meet! I can tell you the Admiral expects you all.'
'How can you possibly know that?'
'Because he said so. I went to his office this morning about some question of duty, and he suggested I could talk it over this evening with your father, for you were all going to Government House.'
A quick blush rises to Katie's cheeks, giving a wonderful brilliancy to her complexion; just the warmth and tinge needed to make her beauty perfect. She stoops down, apparently to look more closely at the geranium leaf, in reality to hide the glow of triumph that flashes from her eyes, as her rapid thoughts sum up the case. 'So Sir Herbert is not to blame after all. He expects me to-night. Who then can have thrown this slight on our household?—I know! I know! Blind that I was, not to suspect it before! Mrs Best, the Admiral's daughter, has done it. She is afraid and jealous of me!' The geranium leaf falls to the floor, but Katie does not notice it, nor does she see that Walter is smoothing it out, to the evident damage of his pure white kid gloves. He is furtively gazing at Katie in a half-vexed, half-admiring manner; thinking how well she looks in that dusky, shadowy, black dress, with that band of crimson velvet in her hair. Not one of the girls at the Government House party, with all their splendour and show and glitter, will match her. He has never seen her equal, except perhaps in the orange groves and sunny gardens at Valparaiso. There he has sometimes met with beautiful women, graceful houris, resolute with beauty and light, tinged and ripened with the glow of that fervid climate.
'You will be dreadfully late at the party. Why do you waste your time here?'
'I am not wasting my time; and even if I were, I deserve some amends for being offered the corner of a carriage, and then being thrust out in the cold. I don't care in the least about going,' he exclaims in an aggrieved tone.
Katie laughs, with a gay mocking ring in her voice. 'Oh, you will change your opinion by-and-by, when Mrs Best is singing one of her duets with you.'
'I hate Mrs Best's singing! That tiny pipe of a voice of hers, that she calls "soprano," is nothing to boast of after all. I don't mean to sing a note to-night.'
'Oh, how cruel of you. What will people do? But you will not be able to resist, when Mrs Best begins to persuade you and purr at you. Do you know what she always reminds me of?'
'How can I tell what your fertile imagination may portray?'
'She reminds me of a beautiful Persian cat my grandmother once had—a rare, soft, splendid-looking creature, with lovely white fur, innocent mild eyes, and with blue ribbons round its neck. You would never dream of its cruel claws, till you saw the bleeding scratches on your hand.'
Captain Reeves looks puzzled. 'I don't see the resemblance.'
'No, no; you don't understand my nonsense; so please don't notice it. And now, as you don't seem in the slightest hurry to go to Government House, we won't stay in this cold room any longer. Come up to the drawing-room; they will all be glad to see you.'
'Thanks; no. I must be off now; but remember! the next time I accept a corner in your carriage, I shall make sure you are going, before I dismiss my cab. Good-night.'