Mr Vaughan turned back to the table with a half-satisfied air. He was fancying that he had escaped from his dilemma, at least, for the time; but the expression which he perceived on the countenance of his daughter restored his suspicions that all was not right.
Scarce a second was he left in doubt, for almost on the instant, Kate cried out, in a tone of pleased surprise,—
“Oh, papa, what do I hear? Did not Mr Trusty say something about ‘your nephew’? After all, has cousin come? Is it he who—”
“Kate, my child,” quickly interrupted her father, and appearing not to have understood her interrogatory, “you may retire to your room. Mr Smythje and I would like to have our cigar; and the smoke of tobacco don’t agree with you. Go, child—go!”
The young girl instantly rose from her chair, and hastened to obey the command—notwithstanding the protestations of Mr Smythje, who looked as if he would have much preferred her company to the cigar.
But her father hurriedly repeated the “Go, child—go!” accompanying the words with another of those severe glances which had already awed and mystified her.
Before she had passed fairly out of the great hall, however, her thoughts reverted to the unanswered interrogatory; and as she crossed the threshold of her chamber, she was heard muttering to herself:
“I wonder if cousin be come!”