“Thank you, Mr Garstang,” said Kate, with the look of confidence in her eyes increasing, as she rose from her seat and laid her hands in his.
“No, no, please don’t,” he said, with a pleasant smile, as he gently returned the pressure of her hands, and then dropped them. “Let’s see, dinner in half an hour.” He looked at his watch. “Don’t think me a gourmet, please, because I think a good deal of my dinner; for I work very hard, and I find that I must eat. There, I’ll leave you for a bit.”
He laid his book on the table, nodded and smiled, and walked out of the room, while with the tears rising to her eyes Kate stood gazing after him, feeling that the cloud hanging over her was lightening, and that she was going to find rest.
She rang, and Sarah Plant appeared with her head on one side, looking more withered than ever, and to her was explained the needs of the moment.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the woman, plaintively; “of course I’ll go, only there’s the dinner, and if I wait till afterwards the shops will be shut up. I don’t think you or master would like Becky to wait table with her face tied up, and if I make her take the handkerchief off she’ll go into shrieking hysterics, and that will be worse. And then—would you mind looking out, ma’am?”
She walked slowly across to the window, and drew aside one of the heavy curtains.
Kate followed her, looked, and turned to the woman.
“Draw up the blind,” she said.
There was a feeble smile, and a shake of the head.
“It is up, ma’am, and it’s been like that all day—black as pitch. Plagues of Ejup couldn’t have been worse.”