Poor Mary! I couldn't but wonder too, thinking of all those hours spent alone. And every minute that I put off seeing Mr. Russell kept him longer away from her!
"She is having a talk with her brother, I don't doubt," mother went on. "He's no favourite of mine, that young fellow, for I don't trust him; but all the same he's fond of Mary, and he'll give her a welcome. I shouldn't wonder if they're having a merry time together."
Mother hadn't spoken of him before, since I don't know when. It took me by surprise, and I said, "O mother, don't!"
"Why, Kitty!" says she. "Poor little woman! Can't you bear to speak of Mary yet?"
I couldn't bear to hear her spoken of so, knowing how different things really were. I would not let myself blame Walter Russell, yet I could have no happy thoughts of him, after what had passed. For a minute I tried to keep on at my needle, but it was no use. I couldn't; and I just dropped the work and went to the window, where it was grown too dark to see anything outside.
Mother said nothing at first. She let me stand there for awhile; and when all at once I walked to the door, she only asked— "What now, Kitty?"
"I'm going for a turn outside," I said. "It's quite warm."
"Yes, so it is; but put on my shawl, and don't stay," says she. "Just leave the fidgets behind you, and come back."
The moment I had shut the door I set off running, and reached the back corner of the garden, where Mr. Russell had said he would wait for me, close to the lilac bushes. I was barely able to see him, and I said "Mr. Russell!" under my breath.
"I thought you didn't mean to come at all," says he, in a whisper.