“I know what you mean,” he interposed, with sensitive intuition. “There was no proper place in it for women. ‘The very corner-stone of the System was the perpetual enslavement of women’—or rather, I should say”—he stumbled awkwardly as the sweeping form of the quotation revealed itself to him—“I should say, it did not provide women with the opportunities which—which——”
Kathleen also had her intuitions. “May I ask?—it sounds as if you were repeating a remark—was it Miss Bailey who said that about the corner-stone?”
Christian bit his lip and flushed confusedly. “Yes—I think those were her words,” he confessed. “But you must remember,” he added, eager to minimize-the offense—“it was in the course of a long discussion on the whole subject, and she——”
“The dear girl!” said Kathleen, with a sigh of relief.
“Ah, but you would love her!” he cried, excitedly perceiving the significance of her words. “She has the noblest mind—calm and broad and serene—and so fine a nature—I know you would love her!”
Kathleen put a hand on his arm, with motherly directness. “But do you love her?” she asked.
To his own considerable surprise he hesitated. “I have that feeling of deep friendship that you described,” he said, slowly. “The charm of being where she is is like nothing else to me. I cannot think that it would ever lose its force for me. I get the effect of drawing strength and breadth of thought and temper from her, when I am with her. I would rather spend my life with her for my companion than any other woman I have ever seen. That is what you mean, is it not?”
“Partly,” she made enigmatic response. “But—now you mustn’t answer me if I ask what I’ve no business to ask—but the suspicion came to me while you were speaking—I am right, am I not, in thinking that you have said all this to her?”
“Yes,” he admitted with palpable reluctance, “and she would not listen to me. Only a few hours before I heard the news of my grandfather’s death, I asked her to be my wife, and she refused. She seemed very resolute. And yet she has some of that same feeling of friendship for me. She said that she had always a deep interest in me. She had read books—very serious books—in order to be able to advise me, if the chance ever came. All that bespeaks friendship, surely! And her coming here, to look on and still not be seen—you said yourself that she was distressed at being discovered—is not that the act of warm friendship?”
Kathleen pondered her reply. She looked away at the nearest hills across the river for some moments, with her gaze riveted fixedly as if in an absorption of interest. Without moving her head, she spoke at last: “You have a good deal to say about friendship. It is my fault—I introduced the word and insisted on it—but did you also lay such stress upon this ‘friendship’ to her?”