“There was a terrible scene yesterday afternoon—late,” said Katharine. “He came here, and Jack was with me in the library.”
“Jack! Oh, Katharine! I wish you wouldn’t see him in this way—”
“It’s no use wishing, mother,” answered the young girl. “I made up my mind long ago. Well, Jack was with me in the library, when Leek came in and said that papa was here. I saw him in the drawing-room, so that they shouldn’t meet. I forget all he said. The usual thing, about being disobedient and undutiful. He was awfully angry because I got out yesterday morning. So I just went over one or two of the things he had done to hurt me. By the bye—I ought to say, that just before he came Jack had been telling me that some one had been to Mr. Beman, and had said that Jack drank, and was dissipated, and was altogether rather a good-for-nothing. And Mr. Beman had seen Jack the next day, doing nothing, because he had nothing to do just then, and with his head in his hand. So Mr. Beman took it into his foolish old head that Jack had been drinking, and told him to go at the end of the month. Now I knew it must be papa who had spoken, so I accused him of it, and he admitted that it was true, and began abusing Jack like a pick-pocket, at the top of his lungs. Jack heard what he said, for the door was open, and I don’t blame him for coming in. They threatened each other, and got so angry, and I thought they’d kill each other, so, like a silly idiot as I was, I threw my arms round Jack’s neck as though I meant to protect him. Papa’s so much bigger, you know. Well, he—papa, I mean—lost his head and got me by the arm. He’s horribly strong. He got me by the right arm a little above the wrist, and threw me half across the room, and when I tried to help myself up—”
“Do you mean to say that he threw you down?” cried Mrs. Lauderdale, really horrified.
“Yes—of course! With all his might, half across the room, so that I rolled on the floor. Well, when I tried to get up, my arm was broken, and Jack was wrestling with papa. I couldn’t help screaming when I fell, and that roused the house, first the servants, and then uncle Robert, in those queer white velvet clothes he wears—don’t you know? Jack told what had happened, and uncle Robert was furious and ordered papa to leave the house—he swore awfully—I never saw him so angry. So papa went. But it was the rage, I suppose, and the exertion—they used up all the dear old man’s strength—”
She stopped speaking suddenly as her thoughts went back to the dead man, and her expression changed. Her eyes filled very slowly with tears, that would not quite brim over, but dimmed her sight. When she turned her head again, she saw that her mother had hidden her face in her hands upon the edge of the bed. Katharine did not understand. A convulsive sob shook the shapely shoulders, and the golden hair trembled.
“Mother dear—don’t cry so!” said Katharine, putting out her left hand and touching the fair head with a caress. “I know—you were very fond of him—of course—”
Mrs. Lauderdale looked up suddenly with streaming eyes and a face drawn in pain. She shook her head slowly.
“It’s not that, child—it’s not that! It’s the other—”
“About me, dearest?” asked Katharine. “Don’t cry about me. I’m all right. It hurts a little now, but it will soon be over.”