She would have told him everything, and it might have been better if she had. But he had frightened her on the previous day by threatening to insist on announcing their marriage if she were further troubled at home. She thought it wiser to turn back to the original point.
“If I were sure that it was papa who spoke to Mr. Beman, I could never be civil to him again,” she said. “Can you imagine anything much worse? I can’t. But you’re quite right to try and stay at Beman’s. It means a great deal to uncle Robert—your sticking to regular work, don’t you see?”
“I don’t know what will happen when he dies,” said Ralston, thoughtfully. “Nobody else will ever do anything for me, when he’s gone.”
“No,” answered Katharine, suppressing a smile at the thought of what she knew, “nobody else will do anything. Let’s hope that uncle Robert will live long enough to see you succeed. But do you know, Jack, I’m anxious about him. Of course Doctor Routh tells him he’ll get quite well again, and I daresay he will, but I can’t help feeling sometimes, when I’m with him—” she hesitated. “He’s very old, you know,” she added.
They talked for some time of the old gentleman’s condition, and he would have been pleased, could he have heard them, at their genuine hope for his recovery. It would have balanced the sentiments of some other members of the family as he had described them to Katharine that morning. They had much to say to one another, and as there was no especial reason why John should go away, he stayed, overjoyed at his good fortune in being able to talk with her at last without the fear of interruption and of exciting attention, which beset them when they met at parties.
It was growing late, and the sunshine had turned red and was fading from the splendid old books on the east wall of the room, when the door opened and Leek appeared.
“Mr. Alexander Lauderdale wishes to speak with you, Miss Katharine,” he said, and then glanced discreetly at Ralston.
It is necessary to say that Leek was almost as thoroughly acquainted with the state of the family’s affairs as any member of it, and that Alexander’s dislike of John was perfectly well known to him.
Katharine stopped in the middle of a phrase, as though she had been struck. Ralston looked at the butler and then at Katharine, wondering what she would say. The library, constructed with a view to avoiding draughts, had only one door, which led into the hall, so that John could not go out without meeting Alexander. Katharine had not believed that her father would come to make trouble under his uncle’s roof, but he was well acquainted with the old gentleman’s habits, and knew that he would be resting at that hour. It was a difficult situation.
“I don’t know what to do,” said Katharine, in a low voice, helpless, at first. “I can’t refuse to see him, since he knows I’m in. Can’t you get out of the room, Jack?”