"Oh! please, don't talk so," said Salome, with a sudden earnestness of appeal. "Pray don't talk so. I can't bear it."
"I did not mean to hurt you, I am sure," said Kate eagerly. "Don't cry, Salome." For Salome had covered her face with her hands to hide her tears. "How stupid of me! Do forgive me," said Kate, really distressed. "But I am always doing things of this kind—saying the wrong thing, or the right thing at the wrong time."
Salome made a great effort to recover herself, and soon was amused at Kate's lively description of the ways and doings at Edinburgh Crescent. Kate could describe things well, and delighted in having a listener, especially one like Salome, who was sure not to break in with—"You told me that before;" or, "I have heard that story a hundred times."
But though Salome was amused, she was secretly surprised at Kate's free discussion of the faults and failings of her brothers and sisters. Salome would never have dreamed of talking of Raymond's selfishness and arrogance to outside people, nor of Ada's serene contentment with herself, which was passive rather than active, but was trying enough at times. Salome's loyalty in this respect is worth considering; for the inner circle of home ought to be sacred, and the veil should not be lifted to curious eyes to make public faults, and troubles which too often arise from those faults and darken with cold shadows the sky of home.
The boys did not return by four o'clock, and Salome, afraid that she should not be at Elm Fields in time to receive her mother, set out to walk there alone. Just as she was leaving the house, her aunt and Louise arrived in a carriage, and were saying good-bye to two ladies, who had evidently driven them back from the luncheon party.
As the little black figure glided past, Kate, who was standing in the hall, called out—
"Mamma! that is Salome. Mamma!—"
Mrs. Wilton took no notice of the exclamation; and Louise said, "Pray, do go back, Kate."
But Lady Monroe had turned her head, and was looking earnestly after Salome's retreating figure.
"Is not that Salome Wilton, Eva," she asked of her daughter,—"poor Mr. Arthur Wilton's child? I should so much like to speak with her. I was at Maplestone last year.—Stop by that young lady," she said to the footman, as he closed the carriage-door—"the young lady in black."