"Most curious," said Katharine. "I had a strong feeling that you wanted me. I thought I heard you calling me."
"I did call you," Knutty said, "none the less loudly because voicelessly. I wanted to tell you that Mrs Stanhope did see Alan before he left England. Your warning to my poor Clifford came too late. She took the boy and made him drink of the poison of disbelief."
Then she gave Katharine an account of her painful interview with Alan. Katharine had previously told Knutty a few particulars of her own encounter with Mrs Stanhope at the Tonedales, and she now, at Knutty's request, repeated the story, adding more details in answer to the old Dane's questionings. Long and anxiously these two new friends, who were learning to regard each other as old friends, discussed the situation.
"I cannot bear that the boy should be suffering in this way," Knutty said. "And I cannot bear that my poor Clifford should know. For he has come back happier—ah, you know something about that, my dear. And I am glad enough to see even the beginning of a change in him. Only it is pathetic that he, without knowing it, should be steering for some happiness in a distant harbour, whilst the boy should be drifting out to sea—alone."
"He shall not drift out to sea," Katharine said. "He must and shall believe in his father again."
"But, my dear, how are you going to manage that?" Knutty asked sadly.
"By my own belief," Katharine answered simply.
"You believe in him?" Knutty said, half to herself.
"Absolutely," Katharine answered, with a proud smile on her face.
"How you comfort me!" said Knutty. "Here have I been wrestling with plans and problems until all my intelligence had gone—all of it except the very best bit of it which called out to you for help. And you come and give me courage at once, not because you have any plans, but because you are yourself."