"Shall we go to her?" asked her father.
"I think not—I think she is better alone. Don't disturb her to-day. I will come up again this evening."
"What did she say?" I asked.
"Very little. She seemed stunned, as people are stunned by a sudden blow. Don't linger here; she will probably be going up to her room, and may not like to think you are watching her."
Father Francis went away. Captain Danton retired to his study. I remained in the recess, which you know is opposite the drawing-room, with the door ajar. I wished to prevent Eeny or any of the servants from disturbing her by suddenly entering. About an hour after, the door opened, and she came out and went slowly upstairs. I caught a glimpse of her face as she passed, and it had turned to the pallor of death. I heard her enter the room and lock the door, and I believe I sat and cried all the morning.
She did not come down all day. I called in Eeny, and told her what had happened, and shocked the poor child as she was never shocked before. At dinner-time I sent her upstairs, to see if Kate would not take some refreshment. Her knocking and calling remained unanswered. She left in despair, and Kate never came down.
Another sleepless night—another anxious morning. About eight o'clock I heard Kate's bell ring, and Eunice go upstairs. Presently the girl ran down and entered the room where I was.
"If you please, Miss Grace, Miss Kate wants you," said Eunice, with a scared face; "and oh, Miss, I think she's ill, she do look so bad!"
Wanted me! I dropped the silver I was holding, in sheer affright. What could she want of me? I went upstairs, my heart almost choking me with its rapid throbbing, and rapped at the door.
She opened it herself. Well might Eunice think her ill. One night had wrought such change as I never thought a night could work before. She had evidently never lain down. She wore the dress of yesterday, and I could see the bed in the inner room undisturbed. Her face was so awfully corpse-like, her eyes so haggard and sunken, her beauty so mysteriously gone, that I shrank before her as if it had been the spectre of the bright, beautiful, radiant Kate Danton. She leaned against the low mantelpiece, and motioned me forward with a cold, fixed look.