"Do what you will, nurse; but, remember, though I can, and may have to bear much, I could not support the idea of your wanting any thing. One kiss before I go down. How I wish Georgy would let you come with me to Bayswater, and stay at home herself."
"She hasn't so much sinse—though I'm sorry for her, she's in grate throuble entirely about you going away—faith I begin to make it out."
Lady Desmond was, as Mrs. O'Toole said, in great trouble, restless, miserable, capricious; at one moment pressing Kate to change her plans, and accompany her to Ireland, at another, evidently ready to facilitate her departure, while she hurried her own preparations, yet showed a disposition to linger within the charmed precincts where echo sometimes conveyed a rumour of Lord Effingham's proceedings.
He was still at Cowes, and the Morning Post of that day gave an account of a dinner given by him on board his new yacht, "The Meteor," to all the celebrities of the R. Y. C.
"That does not look like disappointment," thought Lady Desmond, as she read, "time, and time only can satisfy me of the truth."
She was silent during the repast, of which Kate strove to partake, and rose at once, on Miss Vernon suggesting that she had promised to be with Mrs. Storey at two.
Nurse made her appearance as the cousins descended to the carriage.
"Once more good-bye, kindest and best," said Kate, embracing her, and trying to speak steadily. "Georgy," she continued, laying her hand impressively on Lady Desmond's arm, "I know you love nurse for her own sake. But, remember, I feel every kindness shown to her as intended for myself."
"You may trust nurse safely to me," replied her cousin; and they entered the carriage.
Kate leaned from it as long as nurse remained in sight, and often, in after days, declared that the long earnest gaze, with which she followed the retreating form so dear to her, impressed itself for ever on her heart, and that nurse's figure, in her black dress and white cap, as she stood shading her eyes with her hand, formed one of those indelible pictures ever vivid, let unnumbered years roll by, with which memory is at rare intervals stamped.