"And I will escort you, my dear madam, to the omnibus—where can I catch Langley?" asked Winter.
"Oh, at his house; he goes out very little."
So Mrs. Storey and her cavalier departed, while Mrs. Winter disappeared to hold deep council with the landlady, and Kate was left alone to revel in her own thoughts; gaily they careered away over the far future, yet vaguely and indistinctly. Nurse and Georgy—the Winters and herself, and Egerton, were to be always happy together in some universal bond of fellowship; but she did not arrive at probabilities, they half startled her; she almost shrunk from the whisper of her heart—"He loves me, he always loved me." There was something too positive, too bold in such thoughts! And so a thousand, bright, kaleidoscope visions kept forming themselves round a delightful nucleus presented by the simple sentence—
"Colonel Egerton is to dine here to-day!"
Long, very long it was, since she had dared to indulge thus in reverie; and even while she raised her heart in unspoken gratitude to the Giver of good for her great deliverance, the thought rose to her lips—
"If dear grandpapa had but lived, to see a return of so much happiness! Ah, why was he taken in the midst of such heavy times?"
These reflections calmed the agitation which made each nerve tremulous, and she anticipated Egerton's return less anxiously.
"I long to talk to him of grandpapa; but I am afraid of crying so very much, it would distress him."
Here Mrs. Winter entered, quite restored to good humour, as Kate dimly perceived by the fire-light.
"The woman of the house was so obliging; and it was so fortunate, the gentleman in the front parlour had gone out of town for a few days, and they could dine there; and an excellent pastry-cook at the corner of the street would supply all deficiencies. And, my dear, it is almost five o'clock, if you are going to smooth your hair, and wash your hands before dinner."