The day but one after her party, Mrs. Storey disappointed Kate's intention of asking for a quiet confidential walk after dinner, by desiring the parlour maid at breakfast, to—
"Tell cook to have dinner at one precisely, I must go into town on particular business to-day."
Kate declined her invitation to accompany her, observing—
"I want a long talk with you, dear Mrs. Storey, the first time you are at leisure."
She received a ready assent to her proposition, from her curious hostess, who anticipated a clearing up of all the mysteries connected with Lord Effingham.
Kate had not long enjoyed the unwonted stillness of the house, after Mrs. Storey had departed for town, and the children for their afternoon walk, when her attention was aroused by the sound of voices in the hall, and the next moment Lord Effingham walked into the room. Miss Vernon started, and with difficulty suppressed the exclamation of surprise which sprang to her lips. She rose from her seat, and stood silent, while her unwelcome visitor, advancing towards her, said, with the species of enforced quiet, which always indicated that emotion of some kind was struggling in his breast—
"I do not apologise for this intrusion, Miss Vernon, for you will, I know, forgive it, when I tell you how unconquerable is my desire to speak with you, alone. I have watched your amiable and intelligent hostess set out for town, and so made sure of some uninterrupted conversation—you must not refuse to hear me."
"No, Lord Effingham," said Miss Vernon, recovering her self-possession, "I, too, am almost glad, since you will not accept the tacit expression of my wishes, to have a decisive interview, we cannot continue on our present footing."
"The extraordinary fact of your being domesticated with such people," exclaimed Lord Effingham, abruptly, "is sufficiently eloquent of the terms on which you and your cousin parted—and I must know something more decisive from your own lips, before I resign all hopes of you. Speak! Have you and your cousin separated in consequence of her insane pride—her absurd fancy about myself?"
"If I could convey the least idea to your mind," answered Kate, holding down her indignation, in order to speak with greater force, "of the repugnance with which I shrink from such expressions, you would not, I am sure, offend me by repeating them, Good Heavens," she continued, "what effect can you imagine must be produced upon one woman by such bold, such dishonorable assertions of another."