The gravity of her manner silenced her loquacious hostess, and immediately after Mr. Storey entered, accompanied by Langley. The former greeted Kate with boisterous cordiality, the latter with sincere though quiet pleasure. It was an additional trial to her, this meeting with Langley, whom she had not seen since her grandfather's death; and the contending memories which his presence recalled kept her silent, while he expressed, in his usual shy, embarrassed manner, his happiness in meeting her again. He was very taciturn at dinner, but this passed unnoticed, as the host and hostess were really a host in themselves, at least in the talking line.
"I have to thank you for sending me Mr. Winter's letters so promptly," said Kate, as they sat near each other at tea. "I am very anxious for another, but do not know where to write;—and, Mr. Langley, why did you never come to see me all the time I was at Hampton Court?"
Langley coloured.
"I do not know Lady Desmond," he said, "and you were all too fine and gay for an obscure artist."
"Gay," repeated Kate, looking at him reproachfully.
"Well, too fine; I should not have felt at home there."
"I should have been much pleased had you taken the trouble to pay me a visit, and Hampton Court would have delighted you; but, of course, you know it already."
"Yes, I——" began Langley, again reddening, then interrupting himself abruptly—"If I really thought you remembered, I was—that is, I did not think you would notice it."
"Ah! Mr. Langley," said Kate, with a pensive smile, "you feel guilty, or you would not hesitate so much."