“Have you, indeed, Kate? what, lately?”
“Yes; not many days ago.”
“Well, this is comfort; for I love him passing well:—keep my secret, Katharine; you know not how faithfully I have kept yours.” As Jane Lambert thus spoke, she took the hand of her fair cousin and pressed it against her beating heart. Katharine drew it away with a sudden agitation, and placing it on her pale forehead seemed to muse awhile: her eyes wore the expression of one that was wildly busy over the mysterious tablets of her memory; at last, fixing them on Jane with a troubled gaze, “I have it,” she said: “a light flashes on me; the interview with Francis: it was observed by some one; it was known to Juxon, and you have borne——”
“Nothing that I would not bear again for the love of Katharine, and for her peace of mind.”
“Noblest of beings, alas! how am I punished for having thus employed you! why did you not tell me all? May God forgive me! I never can forgive myself.”
“Talk not thus,” said Jane, rushing into her arms. “This moment richly repays whatever I have suffered: that which I may now safely relate to you you could not have borne at the time, nor should I tell it even now, if it were not that I know you will be seeking some explanations from Juxon.”
The generous girl now gave a minute narration of all that had passed between herself and Francis at their interview. She told how very deeply she had been affected by the devotion with which he spoke of Katharine, and by those looks and gestures which revealed the constancy and the ardour of his love: the action so passionate towards her, upon whom his mind’s eye was inwardly resting, with which Francis had parted from herself, was not forgotten. The circumstance of her immediately after meeting with Juxon, and the scene which passed between them, were described with the like fidelity.
A paleness as of marble overspread the face of Katharine; her eyes assumed a vacant regard; her hand became cold, and from her moving lips no sound was audible. She stood a while like one suddenly turned to stone; and Jane, expecting her every instant to swoon away, supported her in trembling terror. It seemed an age of agony to Jane, though the trance did not last more than three awful minutes. The eyelids of Katharine closed; tears glittered on the long dark lashes; warmth and consciousness returned. She slowly opened her eyes; and, fixing them on Jane with an affection no words could convey, suffered herself to be led back in unbroken silence to the mansion.