Katharine felt considerable hesitation about going to see Mrs. Ralston after John had told her that he had confided the secret of their marriage to his mother. She knew very well that they must meet before long, as they often did, and she felt that, since Mrs. Ralston knew the truth, it would be very disagreeable if the meeting took place in the presence of other persons. So far as any formality was concerned, too, it would naturally have been her duty to go and see her mother-in-law, though, in consideration of the young girl’s broken arm, any such questions of courtesy could well be overlooked.
Katharine’s sensations as she looked forward to the interview could not easily be described. She was, as usual, in a very exceptional position, for she was so placed that she should have to make something like an apology to Mrs. Ralston for having married John against his will. There was something absurd in the idea, and Katharine smiled, alone in her room, as she thought of it.
She was tired with all she had been through, and she put off the difficult moment rather weakly, telling herself that she would surely write and make an appointment on the following day, when she had collected herself and thought it all over. She was fond of Mrs. Ralston, and knew that her liking was returned. Mrs. Ralston had made her understand that well enough, and John had taken pleasure in telling her that his mother never wished him to marry any one else. Nevertheless Katharine felt shy and awkward, and was afraid of saying too much or too little.
Mrs. Ralston herself cut short all hesitation and came to see Katharine at the Brights’, and found her in her little sitting-room upstairs. The young girl was taken by surprise, as the elder woman had followed the servant and entered almost as soon as she had been announced.
“Oh—Mrs. Ralston!” she cried, sitting up on the lounge on which she had been lying after luncheon.
They exchanged greetings. Mrs. Ralston made her lie down again and sat beside her. There was a moment’s silence.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” said Katharine, breaking the ice.
“Of course I’ve come!” answered Mrs. Ralston. “If you’d not had this dreadful accident, you’d have come to me; but as it is, I’ve come to you, since we wanted to see each other.”
There was not much in what she said, but it gave Katharine courage, which was precisely what the elder woman wished to do. That was one of her few secrets. She knew how to make what was the best thing to be done seem altogether natural, and even easy, for those who had to do it, while avoiding the appearance of ever giving advice unless it were asked of her. That is the rare gift of those who really influence others in the world. Their art lies in going so straight as to make any way but their own seem crooked by comparison.
“Yes,” said Katharine, “I wanted to see you very much. The fact is—” she hesitated and she felt the colour rising in her cheeks, though Mrs. Ralston could not see it. “The truth is that I—” she broke off again. “Oh, what’s the use of making phrases, cousin Katharine?” she exclaimed. “Jack and I are married—and you know it—and you must forgive me—that’s what I want to say!”