It would have needed more imagination than Katharine Lauderdale possessed to suppose that the scene in which she acted a part during the afternoon could possibly lead to serious consequences. Had she been told how jealous Hester really was of her, she could not have realized what such jealousy meant. She had gone away much more hurt by Hester’s coolness, and by her refusal to return to the old terms of friendship, than disturbed by the thought of the domestic quarrel she had left behind her. If Hester was jealous, foolishly, and if Crowdie had displeased both her and Katharine, the young girl considered it only fair that they should talk the matter over, and if Hester were angry, it might teach her husband to be more careful in future.
What had really affected her was the disenchantment she had felt when she found that Hester had no intention of renewing the relations which had existed before the affair of the will had produced a temporary estrangement. It had been another blow to another ideal, and another possibility of life was wiped away from the future.
Little by little her whole existence was being narrowed to one thought, one happiness, one belief, all centred in John Ralston. Of all the many people who had come into her young life, he alone had not brought her any permanent pain, nor any pain at all, save once, when she had been terribly mistaken about something he had done during the previous winter. More than once, indeed, and even within the past few weeks, they had been near to what would have made a disagreement between most lovers. But only near—no more. Just at that point when others might have taken offence foolishly, or spoken the hasty word that sets the whole fabric of love vibrating, and sometimes makes it rock and topple over and fall—just at that point one or the other of them had always yielded, and the danger had been over in an instant and as soon forgotten. It seemed as though they could never quarrel; and when they were weary, as they often had been of late, it rested them to be together even for a few moments.
So it had happened on that day when Ralston had met Katharine as she was coming from the Crowdies’, and they had walked together, and made a plan which would have been put into execution at once, but for the news Bright had given them, and which momentarily checked them when they were on the point of disclosing their long-kept secret. Then they had parted, judging it wiser that John should stay away from the house that evening, and avoid the danger of irritating Alexander Junior’s temper, which had most probably been more or less roused by the finding of another will.
Katharine went into the library before going to her room, with a vague idea of ascertaining the state of the family humour, if any one happened to be there. She was not disappointed, for her father and mother were together, Alexander sitting upright in Katharine’s favourite chair, and Mrs. Lauderdale lying upon the sofa and staring at the ceiling. Katharine saw her first, and understood her mother’s warning glance. It was clear that there had been a pause in the conversation. Alexander’s face was cold and expressionless as he looked at his wife.
“Well,” he said, in a tone of repressed but righteous indignation, “have you heard the news, Katharine? They’ve found another will.”
“Yes,” she answered, kissing her mother by force of habit rather than from any other motive. “I just met Hamilton Bright in the street. He told me.”
“Oh, yes; he knows all about it.” Alexander spoke with profound resentment, as though Bright were personally responsible for the second will. “Katharine, my dear, I don’t think you’ve kissed me to-day. I didn’t see you this morning.”
Katharine looked at him in some surprise, smiled a little foolishly, as people do when they cannot understand exactly what is wanted of them, and then rose almost before she had sat down. She went to him and laid her cheek against his with precision, and both he and she kissed the air audibly and simultaneously. Alexander Junior had always detested anything like demonstration, but he insisted, on the other hand, upon the punctual execution of certain affectionate practices, as a matter of household discipline. Early or late the air must be kissed when the cheeks were in contact.
“I thought I’d seen you,” said Katharine, as she retired again to her seat.