She therefore applied herself diligently to her duties. These were varied, though somewhat mechanical.
Mrs. Needham's particular den was a very comfortable, well-furnished room at the back of the house, crowded with books and newspapers, and prospectuses, magazines, and all possible impedimenta of journalism, on the outer edge of which women were beginning with faltering footsteps tentatively to tread. Mrs. Needham not only wrote "provincial letters" (with a difference!), but contributed social and statistical papers to several of the leading periodicals; and one of Katherine's duties was to write out her rough notes, and make extracts from the books, Blue and others, the reports and papers which Mrs. Needham had marked. Then there were lots of letters to be answered and MSS. to be corrected.
Besides these, Mrs. Needham asked Katherine as a favor to help her in her house-keeping, as it was a thing she hated; "and whatever you do," was her concluding instructions, "do not see too much of cook's doings. She is a clever woman, and after all that can be said about the feast of reason, the success of my little dinners depends on her. I don't think she takes things, but she is a little reckless, and I never could keep accounts."
Katherine therefore found her time fully filled. This, however, kept her from thinking too much, and her kind chief was pleased with all she did. Her mind was tolerable at rest about the boys, her friends stuck gallantly to her through the shipwreck of her fortune, and yet her heart was heavy. She could not look forward with hope, or back without pain. She dared not even let herself think freely, for she well knew the cause of her depression, and had vowed to herself to master it, to hide it away, and never allow her mental vision to dwell upon it. Work, and interest—enforced, almost feverish interest—in outside matters, were the only weapons with which she could fight the gnawing, aching pain of ceaseless regret that wore her heart. How insignificant is the loss of fortune, and all that fortune brings, compared to the opening of an impassable gulf between one's self and what has grown dearer than self, by that magic, inexplicable force of attraction which can rarely be resisted or explained!
Life with Mrs. Needham was very active, and although Katherine was necessarily left a good deal at home, she saw quite enough of society in the evening to satisfy her. The all-accomplished Angela Bradley showed a decided inclination to fraternize with Mrs. Needham's attractive secretary, but for some occult reason Katherine did not respond. She fancied that Miss Bradley was disposed to look down with too palpably condescending indulgence from the heights of her own calm perfections on those storms in a teacup amid which Mrs. Needham agitated, with such sincere belief in her own powers to raise or to allay them. Yet Miss Bradley was a really high-minded woman, only a little too well aware of her own superiority. She was always a favored guest at the "Shrubberies," as Mrs. Needham's house was called, and of course an attraction to Errington, who was also a frequent visitor. The evenings, when some of the habitues dropped in on their way to parties, or returning from the theatre (Mrs. Needham never wanted to go to bed!), were bright and amusing. Moreover, Katherine had complete liberty of movement. If Mrs. Needham were going out without her secretary, Katherine was quite free to spend the time with Miss Payne, or with Rachel Trant, whom she found more interesting. At the house of the former she generally found Bertie ready to escort her home, always kindly and deeply concerned about her, but more than ever determined to convert her from her uncertain faith and worldly tendencies, to Evangelicalism and contempt for the joys of this life.
Already the days of her heirship seemed to have been wafted away far back, and the routine of the present was becoming familiar. There was nothing oppressive in it. Yet she could not look forward. Hope had long been a stranger to her. Never, since her mother's death, since she had fully realized the bearings of her own reprehensible act, had she known the joy of a light heart. Some such ideas were flitting through her mind as she was diligently copying Mrs. Needham's lucubrations one afternoon, when the parlor maid opened the door and said, as she handed her a card, "The lady is in the drawing-room, ma'am."
The lady was Mrs. Ormonde.
"Is Mrs. Needham at home?"
"No, ma'am."
It was rather a trial, this, meeting with Ada, but Katherine could not shirk it. She did not want to have any quarrel with the boys' mother, so she ascended to the drawing-room.