Katharine saw, however, that her wandering existence could continue no longer, and that if she left the Brights’ she must go home. She could not continue to transfer herself from the home of one relation to that of another, with her box and her valise, for an indefinite period. In the first place, she was inconveniencing people, and secondly, they would ultimately begin to wonder what had happened in Clinton Place to make it impossible for her to stay in her father’s house. On the other hand, she was not prepared to go there at a moment’s notice. She could hardly expect a very hearty welcome from her father, considering how they had parted on that afternoon at Robert Lauderdale’s house more than a week earlier.
She hesitated as to whether she should not pretend to be ill and stay in her room until the next morning, when she could go back quietly to Clinton Place. But she knew that Mrs. Bright would come and sit with her and would very soon find out that there was nothing the matter. She might have saved herself the trouble of thinking of that, for Bright himself did not wish to meet her, and went out and dined at his club as the surest way of avoiding her. It was as well, at all events, that she did not attempt to go to the Crowdies’, for her appearance there just then would not have pleased Hester, and would have considerably disturbed Crowdie’s own peace of mind.
She was immensely relieved to find herself alone at dinner with Mrs. Bright, who made Hamilton’s excuses, and she looked forward to spending a quiet evening and going to bed early, unless Ralston came. This, however, was not probable, for he had come on the previous evening, and he hesitated to come every day on account of the Brights.
He came, however, not long after dinner. Katharine did not understand his expression. He smiled like a man in possession of an amusing secret which he was anxious to communicate as soon as an opportunity offered. At last Mrs. Bright left the room.
“Look here,” said Ralston. “I’ve got this thing—I wish you’d look at it and tell me what you think.”
He produced a letter and handed it to her, with a short laugh. She saw that it was in her father’s handwriting.
“Read it,” said John. “It will make you open your eyes. He has a most—peculiar character. It’s coming to the surface rapidly.”
Katharine held out the envelope to him.
“You must take it out,” she said. “I’ve only got one hand, and that’s my left.”
“Poor dear!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you’ll have at least ten days more of this.”