She had ample time for thought. Miss Payne was suffering from touches of rheumatism, which made long walks impossible; so Katherine wandered about alone.
The weather was bright, but, although it was the beginning of May, not warm enough to sit amongst the rocks at the point. Katherine, however, often walked to and fro recalling De Burgh's looks and tones the day he had opened his heart to her there. He was not a bad fellow—no, far from it; indeed, she knew that, if her heart had not been filled with Errington, she could have loved De Burgh. How was it that a man of feeling, of so-called honor, with a certain degree of discrimination between right and wrong, could have broken the moral law and been so callous as he had shown himself?
There was no use in thinking about it; it was beyond her comprehension. All she hoped was that time might efface the cruel lines which sorrow and remorse had cut deep into Rachel's heart.
With Miss Payne, Katherine was cheerful and companionable. They spoke much of Bertie. His decision to take orders would have given his sister unqualified satisfaction had he also sought preferment in England.
"A clergyman's position is excellent," she said, confidentially, as they sat together in the drawing-room window one blustery afternoon, when Katherine was not tempted to go out. "Bertie is just the stuff to make a popular preacher of, and so long as he is properly ordained I don't care how he preaches, but I don't like him to be classed with ranting, roaring vagabonds! Then, you see, there are no men who have such opportunities as clergymen of picking up well-dowered wives. I believe women are ready to propose themselves rather than not catch what some of them are pleased to term "a priest." It's a weakness I never could understand. What induces him to run off among the heathen?—can't he find heathen enough at home? If he gets into these outlandish places, I shall never see him again, and, between you and me, he is the only creature I care for. He thinks he is inspired by the love of God, but I know he is driven by the love of you."
"Of me, Miss Payne?" exclaimed Katherine, startled and greatly pained.
"Yes, you; and I wish you could see your way to marry him. It would be no great match for either of you, but he would be another and a happier man; and, as for you, your rejection of Lord de Burgh (I suppose you did refuse him) shows you do not care for riches."
"But, Miss Payne, I have no right to think your brother ever wished to marry me."
"Then you must be very dull. I wonder he has not written before. Oh, here is the postman!"
Katherine stepped through the window and took the letters from him.