He showed a touch of displeasure at her inattention, and went over the ground again. He wished her to use her influence over Doris. That was the point; and Katherine had heard, but had doubted her own ears.
Doris Winton was a gifted and most attractive girl; but—this between themselves—certainly a degree lacking in self-control. He ran through the little gamut of her faults, suggesting that, if Katherine would kindly exert herself, those faults would soon cease to exist. The thing which struck Katherine unexpectedly, as with a physical blow, was that he talked as one who had a personal interest in the matter. Doris was to be improved and shaped—for him! He did not say this, but he implied it. He wished her to be trained and educated up to his level.
"I am afraid I have very little power over Doris," Katherine said. "But, of course, I will do what I can."
Of course she would; since it was Hamilton who asked it of her. And still more "of course" nobody should ever guess what this meant in her own life.
"Here comes Doris with my uncle," she remarked, turning to the window.
Hardly a greater contrast could have been found than between these two; Doris, all life and glow and high spirits; Katherine, colourless, still, and impassive.
Nobody noticed Katherine's look. She had much self-control; and one who is always pale may easily be a little paler than usual, without causing comment. Doris's vividness absorbed attention. She had not expected to find Hamilton here; and the encounter, just after Mrs. Winton's unwise suggestion, threw her off her balance. Whatever she really felt about him—and no one knew this less than the girl herself—she was flattered by his attentions. Things might have drifted a good deal further, unconsciously on her part, if the mother's heavy hand had not reduced the abstract to the concrete.
Doris only knew that her spirits, after descending to zero, rushed abruptly to tropical heat. She made no effort to restrain this new mood. There is a charm in being carried on the crest of a wave, reckless of rocks ahead; and she allowed it full swing. She had found a seat on an old carved chair, facing the three; and her cheeks were a pretty carmine with excitement, while the hazel eyes shone like stars. The slender hands lay ungloved and quiet, but she talked fast.
They listened seriously to her sallies. In the Stirling composition existed a total lack of the "saving sense of humour," though the Squire's sympathetic readiness to smile with those who smiled often took its place. But he was grave to-day, and Hamilton was slow as a tortoise to grasp a jest, while Katherine seldom attempted the feat.
"I didn't believe I could come, for mother wanted me to put fresh covers on a lot of old library books. Don't you just abhor handling books that have been pawed over by the grubbiest fingers in the place? If I had my way, I'd whisk them all into the nearest ash-pit. I shirked the work yesterday, and to-day I was wild for a spin—leaving dull care behind! So I eloped without permission; and half-way here a most awful fit of remorse came on. I had to sit down on the grass to fight it out. And Mr. Stirling found me there, and said I might come on, which I was just dying to do. It's lovely to have things settled for one, in the very way one wants."