“I know, dear—I know. But it makes no difference.”
As Katharine had anticipated, Robert Lauderdale was very glad to see her. He was sitting in his library, into which the sun streamed through the high windows, one of which was partly opened to let in the spring freshness.
She thought he looked ill. He had not recovered from the effects of his illness so quickly as Doctor Routh had expected, owing to a certain weakness of the heart, natural enough at his age and after enduring so severe a strain. His appetite had never returned, and he was thin in the body and almost wasted in the face. If anything, Katharine thought he looked worse than when she had last seen him a few days previously. But he welcomed her with a cheery smile, and she sat down beside him.
“Come to pay me a little visit?” His voice was oddly hollow. “That’s right! I wish you’d stay with me a few days again. But then, you’re too gay, I suppose.”
“Not at all too gay,” laughed Katharine. “That’s exactly what I want to do, and why I came at this hour. I wanted to ask if you’d have me for a week, and then, if you would, I was going to send for my things. And now you’ve spoken first, and I accept. My things are all ready,” she added, still smiling. “You see, I knew you’d let me come.”
“Of course, little girl!” answered the old man, his sunken eyes fixing themselves wistfully on her young face. “Ring for Leek and tell him to send a man down at once.”
“Oh—there’s no hurry about it. I made myself as beautiful as I could before starting—but I want to dazzle you at dinner. You sit up for dinner, don’t you? How are you, uncle, dear? Better?”
“Yes—yes,” he answered, slowly. “I suppose I’m better. But it’s slow work. Yes, I sit up for dinner. It makes the days shorter. They’re so long. You look pale, my dear. What’s the matter? Too much dancing? Too much flirting? Or what?”
“I never flirt, uncle Robert!” Katharine laughed again.
“Well, then, it’s time you began, and you’d better begin at once—with me.”