No doubt there was much that was wholly vague to Esther Northmore in the vision of service which lay before the mind of Katharine Saxon. But the thought of some renunciation for the sake of others—some work, unselfish and lasting—what generous young soul has not at moments felt the thrill of it? Their eyes met in a glow of sympathy, if not of full understanding, and the clock ticked solemnly in a stillness which, for a minute, neither of them could break.
It was a light step at the open door which suddenly drew their attention. Kate was coming briskly up the walk with a letter in her hand.
“It’s from home,” she said, as Esther rose to meet her, “and I thought you ought to have it.”
She noticed the look of exaltation on her sister’s face, and something she had never seen before in Aunt Katharine’s. Her efforts at conversation met with little response. She was conscious of some atmosphere surrounding these two which she herself could not penetrate, and she was glad to slip away at the end of a very short call.
“They must have been talking about something awfully serious,” she said to Tom afterward. “They looked as solemn as a pair of owls. I hope that girl of Aunt Katharine’s will come home when she said she would. For my part, I think Esther’s stayed there long enough.”
[CHAPTER X—SOME BITS OF POETRY]
Aunt Katharine’s maid of all work did not outstay her leave of absence, and at evening of the third day Esther came home to her grandfather’s. She insisted that she had had a good time, and strongly resented being regarded as a martyr who had sacrificed herself to a painful cause.
“Why, Aunt Katharine made it delightful for me,” she said, “and I liked her better and better all the time I stayed.”
“I hope she didn’t win you over to all her notions, especially that prejudice against getting married,” said Stella, with a laugh.
“She certainly didn’t argue me out of the belief that life might be worth living if one happened to stay single,” returned Esther, and though she said it lightly, the look in her eyes was sober.