So Katherine went out alone immediately after luncheon, before the world and his wife had time to get abroad. She had made a circuit of the ornamental water, and was returning by the footpath near the sunk fence which separates the Gardens from the Park, when she recognized De Burgh coming toward her. He had been in her thoughts at the moment; for, feeling that it was quite likely he had been considered a suitor, she was anxious to give him an opportunity of making an honorable retreat before society found out that the sceptre of wealth had slipped from her hand.
"Pray is this the way you cure a cold?" he asked, abruptly. "Last night Lady Mary Vincent informed me that you had staid at home to nurse a cold. This morning I call to enquire for the interesting invalid, and find she is out in the cool February air."
"It is very mild, and it is at night the air is dangerous," returned Katherine, smiling.
"Now I look at you, I don't think you look so blooming as usual. May I go back with you and pay my visit of condolence, in spite of having left my card?"
"Yes," said Katherine, with sudden decision. "I want to speak to you."
"Indeed!"—with a keen, eager look. "This is something new. May I ask—"
"No; not until we are in Miss Payne's drawing-room."
"You alarm me. Could it be possible that you, peerless as you are, have got into a scrape?"
"Well, I think I can say I have," said Katherine, smiling.
"Great heavens! this is delightful."