His figure was upright, his eyes keen, but the lines in his brow were deeply cut, and his beard and hair were quite white. A fine old man, a typical squire, with an autocrat's expression.
Even while admiring her uncle, Catherine was remembering the secret wrong he had done—the dishonouring small sins of which he had been guilty. His proud air and haughty manner hid remorse and self-condemnation; surely this must be so!
'Your friend, Mrs. Arderne, is not ill either? The children cannot be unwell, or you would not have left them.'
'The troubles all concern Uncle Jack and—and you.'
There was a great fear in her heart, and her voice trembled. Oh, if this dread, this mastering weakness of will, were to continue, there would be no chance of influencing this stern, self-possessed man by her words! In that moment Catherine both despised and detested herself.
But she had sought powerful aid; she had put her case into the hands of her Heavenly Father, beseeching Him to plead her cause for her through her own lips; and the remembrance of His mercy and goodness came back to her mind just as she needed it most. With God's help, wonders and miracles might be accomplished!
At the mention of Uncle Jack the squire's frown had appeared. It was a visible effort to him to show the unvarying courtesy he deemed due to a woman when Catherine would speak of his enemy.
'Forgive me if I say that you had better have chosen a different confidant, if you wish to discuss affairs concerning my brother.'
'No other confidant would do, and I knew you would not refuse to listen to me.'
'I am powerless to refuse a lady's request, when it is in my power to grant it, when the lady is my niece, to whom I am attached, and when she proffers the request under my own roof. I can only request her to desist from making it.'