And they vanished upstairs, hand in hand.
Meanwhile Hester in her most reckless mood was alternately flouting and caressing Catharine Elsmere. She was not in the least afraid of Catharine, and it was that perhaps which had originally drawn Catharine's heart to her. Elsmere's widow was accustomed to feel herself avoided by young people who discussed a wild literature, and appeared to be without awe toward God, or reverence toward man. Yet all the time, through her often bewildered reprobation of them, she hungered for their affection, and knew that she carried in herself treasures of love to give—though no doubt, on terms.
But Hester had always divined these treasures, and was, besides, as a rule, far too arrogant and self-centred to restrain herself in anything she wished to say or do for fear of hurting or shocking her elders.
At this moment she had declared herself tired out with packing, and was lounging in an armchair in the little drawing-room. A Japanese dressing-gown of some pale pink stuff sprayed with almond blossom floated about her, disclosing a skimpy silk petticoat and a slender foot from which she had kicked its shoe. Her pearly arms and neck were almost bare; her hair tumbled on her shoulders; her eyes shone with excitement provoked by a dozen hidden and conflicting thoughts. In her beauty, her ardent and provocative youth, she seemed to be bursting out of the little room, with its artistic restraint of colour and furnishing.
"Don't please do any more fussing," she said imploringly to Catharine. "It's all done—only Aunt Alice thinks it's never done. Do sit down and talk."
And she put out an impatient hand, and drew the stately Catharine toward a chair beside her.
"You ought to be in bed," said Catharine, retaining her hand. The girl's ignorance of all that others knew affected her strangely—produced a great softness and compunction.
"I shouldn't sleep. I wonder when I shall get a decent amount of sleep again!" said Hester, pressing back the hair from her cheeks. Then she turned sharply on her visitor:
"Of course you know, Mrs. Elsmere, that I am simply being sent away—in disgrace."
"I know"—Catharine smiled, though her tone was grave—"that those who love you think there ought to be a change."