The girl went away, and Kate sat sipping her tea and reading. She sat for upward of half an hour, and then she arose and took the way to the apartments of Mr. Richards. It was after ten before she returned and entered her sitting-room. She found Eunice waiting for her, and she resigned herself into her hands at once.
"I shall go to bed early to-night," she said. "My head aches. I must try and sleep."
Sleep mercifully came to her almost as soon as she laid her head on her pillow. She slept as she had not done for many a night before, and awoke next morning refreshed and strengthened for the new trials of the new day. She dreaded the meeting with her discarded suitor, with a nervous dread quite indescribable; but the meeting must be, and she braced herself for the encounter with a short, fervent prayer, and went down stairs.
There was no one in the dining-room, but the table was laid. She walked to the window, and stood looking out at the black, bare trees, writhing and groaning in the morning wind, and the yellow sunshine glittering on the frozen snow. While she stood, a quick, heavy tread crossed the hall—a tread she knew well. Her heart throbbed; her breath came quick. A moment later, and Sir Ronald entered, the open note she had sent him in his hand.
"What is the meaning of this folly, Kate?" he demanded, angrily, striding towards her. "Here, take it back. You did not mean it."
"I do mean it," Kate said, shrinking. "I have behaved very badly; I am very sorry, but I mean it."
His black brows contracted stormily over his gloomy eyes.
"Do you mean to say you have jilted me? Have you been playing the capricious coquette from first to last?"
"I am very sorry! I am very sorry!" poor Kate faltered. "I have done wrong! Oh, forgive me! And please don't be angry."
He broke into a harsh laugh.