The girl flushed deeply, but said nothing except "Thank you." She would have liked to refuse all aid from her mother; but after all, was she not being deprived of her rightful inheritance? Let her mother make what reparation was possible.
To the last moment Kate hoped for some sign of relenting, struggled to find some explanation, some plea, that would draw the girl to her. But those who have formed the habit of ruling, suffer one disadvantage among their fellows: it is impossible for them to become suppliants.
"Good-by, Mother."
When she started for the train that was to take her to Frankfort, Jemima followed her to the door.
"You will be here when—we return, to-morrow?" Kate's steady voice hid very successfully her agonized suspense.
"No, Mother."
"Ah!... Then your aunt expects you? She knows what train to meet?"
"Yes, thank you. Professor Thorpe has made all the arrangements. He will put me on the train in Lexington."
Kate bent over her child. "Good-by, my daughter."
Even then the tremble of a lip, a tear on an eyelash, might have brought them into each other's arms. But neither was the sort of woman who weeps in a crisis. They kissed, their lips quite cool and firm.