"Now, then, go, my Katherine. To Joanna give my dear love. Tell her that very good were the cheesecakes and the krullers, and that to-morrow I will come over and see the new carpet they have bought."
And while she spoke she was retying Katherine's hood, and admiring as she did so the fair, sweet face in its quiltings or crimson satin, and the small, dimpled chin resting upon the fine bow she tied under it. Then she followed her to the door, and watched her down the road until she saw her meet Dominie Van Linden, and stand a moment holding his hand. "A message I am going for my mother," she said, as she firmly refused his escort. "Then with madam, your mother, I will sit until you return," he replied cheerfully; and Katherine answered, "That will be a great pleasure to her, sir."
A little farther she walked; but suddenly remembering that the dominie's visit would keep her mother in the house, and being made restless by the gathering of the night shadows, she turned quickly, and taking the very road up which Hyde had come the night Neil Semple challenged him, she entered the garden by a small gate at its foot, which was intended for the gardener's use. The lilacs had not much foliage, but in the dim light her dark, slim figure was undistinguishable behind them. Longingly and anxiously she looked up and down the water-way. A mist was gathering over it; and there were no boats in the channel except two pleasure-shallops, already tacking to their proper piers. "The Dauntless" had been out of sight for hours. There was not the splash of an oar, and no other river sound at that point, but the low, peculiar "wish-h-h" of the turning tide.
In the pettiest character there are unfathomable depths; and Katherine's, though yet undeveloped, was full of noble aspirations and singularly sensitive. As she stood there alone, watching and waiting in the dim light, she had a strange consciousness of some mysterious life ante-dating this life! and of a long-forgotten voice filling the ear-chambers of that spiritual body which was the celestial inhabitant of her natural body. "Richard, Richard," she murmured; and she never doubted but that he heard her.
All her senses were keenly on the alert. Suddenly there was the sound of oars, and the measure was that of steady, powerful strokes. She turned her face southward, and watched. Like a flash a boat shot out of the shadow,—a long, swift boat, that came like a Fate, rapidly and without hesitation, to her very feet. Richard quickly left it and with a few strokes it was carried back into the dimness of the central channel. Then he turned to the lilac-trees.
"Katherine!"
It was but a whisper, but she heard it. He opened his arms, and she flew to their shelter like a bird to her mate.
"My love, my wife, my beautiful wife! My true, good heart! Now, at last my own; nothing shall part us again, Katherine,—never again. I have come for you—come at all risks for you. Only five minutes the boat can wait. Are you ready?"
"I know not, Richard. My father—my mother"—
"My husband! Say that also, beloved. Am I not first? If you will not go with me, here I shall stay; and, as I am still on duty, death and dishonour will be the end. O Katherine, shall I die again for you? Will you break my sword in disgrace over my head! Faith, darling, I know that you would rather die for me."