“How stupid I am!” said Aunt Betty, “thank you, my dear, I didn’t see.”
Katherine saw dancing in and out between the little cards a tiny figure that was yet tall and strong, moving there a teasing, taunting puppet, standing also, a motionless figure, away there, by the wall, watching, with a cynical smile, the room. Beneath the thin hands of the old lady the cards fluttered, shifted, lay with their painted colours on the shining table, and, in accompaniment with their movement, Katherine’s thoughts also danced, in and out, round and round, chasing the same old hopeless riddle. Sometimes she glanced across at her mother. Perhaps already Aunt Aggie had told her.... No, she had not. Her mother’s calm showed that she, as yet, knew nothing. Katherine, like the others, did not doubt what her mother would do. She would demand that the engagement should be broken off; they would all, ranged behind her broad back, present their ultimatum—And then what would Katherine do?... Simply, sitting there, with her fingers fiercely interlaced, her hands pressed against her knee, she did not know. She was exhausted with the struggle that had continued now for so many weeks, and behind her exhaustion, waiting there, triumphant in the expectation of her success, was her rival.
Then, suddenly, as they waited there came to them all the idea that the hall door had been opened and gently closed. They all, Mrs. Trenchard, Aunt Aggie, Millie, Henry, Katherine, started, looked up.
“Did someone come in?” said Mrs. Trenchard, in her mild voice. “I thought I heard the hall door—Just go and see, Henry.”
“I’ll go,” said Katherine quickly.
They all waited, their heads raised. Katherine crossed the room, went into the hall that glimmered faintly under a dim lamp, paused a moment, then turned back the heavy handle of the door. The door swung back, and the lovely summer night swept into the house. The stars were a pattern of quivering light between the branches of the heavy trees that trembled ever so gently with the thrilling sense of their happiness. The roses, the rich soil soaked with dew, and the distant murmur of the stream that ran below the garden wall entered the house.
Katherine waited, in the open door, looking forward. Then she came in, shutting the door softly behind her.
Had someone entered? Was someone there with her, in the half-light, whispering to her: “I’m in the house now—and I shall stay, so long as I please—unless you can turn me out.”
She went back into the drawing-room.
“There was no one,” she said. “Perhaps it was Rebekah.”