Lady Jane held the child tighter, and Kate returned her kisses with all her might; but the other aunt said, “That will do. She must not be too much for you again.” And they let go as if a cold wind had blown between them.
“Did Mr. Wardour bring her home?” asked Lady Jane.
“Yes; and was kind enough to propose taking her back again,” was the answer, with a sneer, that made Kate feel desperately angry, though she did not understand it.
In truth, Lady Barbara was greatly displeased with the Wardours. She had always been led to think her niece’s faults the effect of their management; and she now imagined that there had been some encouragement of the child’s discontent to make her run away; and that if they had been sufficiently shocked and concerned, the truant would have been brought home much sooner. It all came of her having allowed her niece to associate with those children at Bournemouth. She would be more careful for the future.
Careful, indeed, she was! She had come to think of her niece as a sort of small wild beast that must never be let out of sight of some trustworthy person, lest she should fly away again.
A daily governess, an elderly person, very grave and silent, came in directly after breakfast, walked with the Countess, and heard the lessons; and after her departure, Kate was always to be in the room with her aunts, and never was allowed to sit in the schoolroom and amuse herself alone; but her tea was brought into the dining-room while her aunts were at dinner, and morning, noon, and night, she knew that she was being watched.
It was very bitter to her. It seemed to take all the spirit away from her, as if she did not care for books, lessons, or anything else. Sometimes her heart burnt with hot indignation, and she would squeeze her hands together, or wring round her handkerchief in a sort of misery; but it never got beyond that; she never broke out, for she was depressed by what was still worse, the sense of shame. Lady Barbara had not said many words, but had made her feel, in spite of having forgiven her, that she had done a thing that would be a disgrace to her for ever; a thing that would make people think twice before they allowed their children to associate with her; and that put her below the level of other girls. The very pain that Lady Barbara took to hush it up, her fears lest it should come to the ears of the De la Poers, her hopes that it might not be necessary to reveal it to her brother, assisted to weigh down Kate with a sense of the heinousness of what she had done, and sunk her so that she had no inclination to complain of the watchfulness around her. And Aunt Jane’s sorrowful kindness went to her heart.
“How could you do it, my dear?” she said, in such a wonderful wistful tone, when Kate was alone with her.
Kate hung her head. She could not think now.
“It is so sad,” added Lady Jane; “I hoped we might have gone on so nicely together. And now I hope your Uncle Giles will not hear of it. He would be so shocked, and never trust you again.”