About half an hour later Garstang entered, smiling pleasantly, and offering his arm.
“Dinner is waiting,” he said, and he led his guest into the dining-room, where over a well-served meal, with everything in the best of taste, he laid himself out to increase the feeling of confidence he saw growing in Kate’s eyes.
His conversation was clever, if not brilliant; he showed that he had an amply stored mind, and his bearing was full of chivalrous respect; while feeling more at rest, Kate felt drawn to him, and the magnitude of her step grew less in her troubled eyes.
The dinner was at an end, and they were seated over the dessert, Garstang sipping most temperately at his one glass of claret from time to time, and for some minutes there had been silence, during which he had been gazing thoughtfully at the girl.
“The most pleasant meal I have had for years,” he said suddenly, “and I feel loath to break the charm, but it is time for the lady of the house to rise. Will you make the curiosity place the drawing-room, and when the tea has been brought up, send for me? I shall be longing to come, for I enjoy so little of the simple domestic.”
Sarah Plant’s words came to Kate’s mind, “Ah, if I had had a child like that!” and the feeling of rest and confidence still grew, as Garstang rose and crossed the room to open the door for her.
“By the way, there is one little thing, my dear child,” he said gravely.
Kate started, and her hand went to her breast.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, smiling, “a mere trifle in your interest. You are rapidly getting over the shock caused by the troubles of the past twenty-four hours or so, but you are not in a condition to bear more.”
“My uncle!” cried Kate, excitedly.