“I 'm afraid he 'll not be pleased at it!” said the other, timidly.
Another sigh, but still weaker than the former, was Kate's only reply.
“And how did you leave Mr. Martin? They tell us here that his case is hopeless,” said Mrs. Henderson.
“He is very ill, indeed; the doctors give no hope of saving him. Is Miss Martin fully aware of his state?”
“Who can tell? We scarcely ever see her. You know that she never was very partial to your father, and latterly there has been a greater distance than ever between them. They differ about everything; and with that independent way he has—”
A wide stare from Kate's full dark eyes, an expression of astonishment, mingled with raillery, in her features, here arrested the speaker, who blushed deeply in her embarrassment.
“Go on,” said Kate, gently. “Pray continue, and let me hear what it is that his independence accomplishes.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed the other. “I see well you are not changed, Kate. You have come back with your old haughty spirit, and sure you know well, dear, that he 'll not bear it.”
“I 'll not impose any burden on his forbearance. A few days' shelter—a week or two at furthest—will not be, perhaps, too much to ask.”
“So, then, you have a situation in view, Kate?” asked she, more eagerly.