"A cold—oh, nothing; but what beautiful flowers. I have suffered much from a dearth of flowers."
"I wrote to my sister, who is at present at Allerton, to send me a basket full, they have tolerable conservatories there."
"You are very kind; I will ring for a vase or bowl, or something to put them in. Mrs. Winter will be delighted with them."
"Yes, but they are for you."
The little bustle of arranging the graceful gift proceeded pleasantly. Egerton lounged on the sofa. Kate stood by the table, now consulting him as to their arrangement, and touching them with a tender, admiring care, that showed their appreciation of their rare beauty; gradually, as the task was accomplished, they glided into talk of former times; and Egerton spoke with such feeling of the sudden shock her grandfather's death had been to him, that Kate, unspeakably gratified by the reverent affection he expressed, was drawn on to give some account of his last moments, and how the old hound died when relieved from his watch. She spoke tremblingly, yet with wonderful composure; Egerton listened in motionless attention.
"I shall never, never forget the night he died," she continued, unconsciously playing with a leaf, and still standing by the table. Egerton had risen, and was leaning against the mantel-piece. "He had seemed better, that day, and happier, and I sat watching him by the fire-light as he lay, asleep, as I thought, in his chair, long after he was gone from me." She shuddered slightly. "I had been dreaming of better times for him, perhaps a return to the Priory; but it was soon broken, my dream! and then Georgy was away, and the Winters, and I was, so alone! I had none, no, not one near me, that I loved, except poor nurse."
She stopped to recover herself; Egerton, springing to her side, took her hand in both his,
"Kate! long-loved, dearest, you have indeed been sad and weary; give me the right to be beside you, come sorrow or joy; I cannot bear to think of your being grieved and alone, while I, who so pined for a glimpse of you, was far away. Let me hold you to my heart, and shelter you from the roughness of life, or share its burdens with you. My beautiful one! be my wife, and come what may, we will bear it with the strength of two hearts."
He drew her to him, close, close, and she leaned her hand upon his shoulder, murmuring,
"I always wished you to be there, he loved you so much."