"No," he replied decisively; "have you?"
"I have not," said Katharine. "I was thinking of walking round there to inquire for her; but James makes out that there is so much to do, after yesterday, that I saw he would only grumble if I took him out,"--Mr. Guyon breathed rather quickly, and then looked relieved,--"and, as I knew if any thing serious had been the matter with her or Sir Timothy, she would have put us off for to-day, it didn't matter."
"Ah, by the bye, yes!" returned her father, "we dine there to-day."
It was rather odd that Mr. Guyon should have said this in a tone of reminiscent surprise; for his particular business of that morning had included, if not entirely consisted of, a long interview with Lady Henmarsh; which interview had concluded with these words:
"Well, then, good-bye until seven. You quite understand?" on the part of the gentleman; and "Yes, I quite understand," on the part of the lady.
It will be remembered that Mr. Guyon had despatched a note to his complaisant cousin in the course of the preceding day, which note had borne fruit in Katharine's disappointment of the evening. It had also prepared Lady Henmarsh for Mr. Guyon's visit, and had convinced her that he "meant business." It is unnecessary to go into the details of the interview, which had taken place while Katharine had watched and waited throughout the dreary hours, and in which her fate was settled, so far as it was in the power of her father and her chaperone to settle it. Its bearings will all be clearly developed by the results; it is enough at present that each of the parties was satisfied with the views entertained and the promises made by the other.
Katharine looked very bright and beautiful that evening, and her manner was as gay and gracious as if Lady Henmarsh had not inflicted a severe disappointment upon her and seriously disconcerted all, her plans and hopes for one day and night at least. Her pride had received a slight wound, not a deep or deadly one as yet, but it was keen, and sensitive, and thrilled to a touch; and that card, without note or message, had touched it. She recalled her last words to Gordon Frere, his last words to her, and their tone, which meant so much more; and she could not but recoil from this incident. There was some relief in fancying that he might have taken this way of evincing pique at her absence from the ball; and when this idea occurred to her she cherished it, and at last it gave her complete comfort. There is a sort of charm in such piques and pets, when they are not carried too far, and Katharine did not care to remember that had Gordon been offended, and taken such a way of showing it, he must have indulged temper at the cost of sense, as he must have known her absence arose from no fault of hers. But Katharine, a remarkably clear-sighted person in most cases, was as blind and as silly as the rest of the world in this, and caught with eagerness at a reason which seemed to exalt her lover's devotion at the expense of his common sense. Yes, that was it of course! How foolish she had been! they would meet to-morrow; even if he did not call, he always went to Lady Tredgold's "evenings," and there they should meet, and "make it up." Katharine's girlish spirits rose, under the influence of the conviction that she had been worrying herself unnecessarily, and she was even unusually charming. The dinner-party was a pleasantly-assorted one; Sir Timothy, a perfect gentleman, old and invalided as he was, prosed away indeed, at the end of the table, but she was not near him at dinner, and he never appeared in the drawing-room. She talked brilliantly; her low well-bred laugh was heard like frequent music amid the buzz of conversation; and Mr. Mostyn, who honoured Lady Henmarsh on the present occasion, made up his mind that Katharine should be his next heroine. He calmly contemplated her animated face, and studied the details of her dress, considering whether she should be wedded to a clever Irish political adventurer (he knew a man whom he could "do" for the part admirably, and what was more and better, every one else knew him also), rescued from his brutality by the hero (Mr. Mostyn would be his own hero), and suffered to die of a broken heart in consequence of her hopeless passion for her rescuer; or whether she should merely retire, in her maiden bloom, into a convent, when the hero marries the duchess, out of compassion, and hangs wreaths of immortelles on the bell-handle of the holy house of our Lady of the Seven Dolours on each anniversary of the double event. While his mind was agitated by this dilemma, he heard Mr. Guyon say to Lady Henmarsh,
"Yes, we saw him yesterday at the Botanical Fête. I don't know that he mentioned your invitation. Katharine, did Mr. Frere say whether he was to dine with Lady Henmarsh to-day?"
Katharine turned her head quickly towards her father, and there was a slight frown on her fair brow as she answered,
"No, papa,--certainly not! I did not know he had been asked. When did you invite him, Lady Henmarsh?"