‘It was not Ombra’s fault,’ she said to herself. ‘It was natural that Ombra should do anything she did; but I who am older, who know the world, I should have known better—I should have had the courage to bear even her unhappiness, for her good. Oh, my poor child! and she does not know yet, bad as she thinks it, half of what she may have to bear.’
Thus the mother lay and accused herself, taking first one, and then the other, upon her shoulders, shedding salt tears under the veil of that darkness, wondering where she should next wander to, and what would become of them, and whether light could ever come out of this darkness. How her heart ached!—what fears and heaviness overwhelmed her! while Ombra slept and dreamed, and was happy in the midst of the wretchedness which she had brought upon herself!
CHAPTER LVIII.
They were all very subdued when they met next day. It was now, perhaps, more than at any former time that Kate’s position told. Instinctively, without a word of it to each other, Mrs. Anderson and her daughter felt that on her aspect everything depended. They would not have said it to each other, or even to themselves; but, nevertheless, there could not be any doubt on the subject. There were two of them, and they were perfectly free to go and come as they pleased; but the little one—the younger child—the second daughter, who had been quietly subject to them so long, was the mistress of the situation; she was the lady of the house, and they were but her guests. In a moment their positions were changed, and everything reversed. And Kate felt it too. They were both in the breakfast-room when she came in. She was very quiet and pale, unlike her usual self; but when she made her usual greetings, a momentary glow of red came over her face. It burned as she touched Ombra’s cheek with her own. After all that had passed, these habitual kisses were the most terrible thing to go through. It was so hard to break the bond of custom, and so hard to bestow what means love solely for custom’s sake. The two girls reddened as if they had been lovers as they thus approached each other, though for a very different cause; but no stranger, unless he had been very quick-sighted, would have seen the subtle, unexpressed change which each of them felt dropping into their very soul. Kate left the others as soon as breakfast was over, and was absent the whole morning. At lunch she was again visible, and once more they sat and talked, with walls of glass or ice between them. This time, however, Kate gave more distinct indication of her policy.
‘Would you like to have the carriage this afternoon?’ she said.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mrs. Anderson, doubtfully, trying to read her niece’s pleasure in her eyes. ‘If there is anywhere you want to go to, dear——’
‘Oh! if you don’t think of going out, I shall drive to Westerton, to get some books,’ said Kate. ‘I want some German books. It is a long time since I have done any German; but if you want the carriage, never mind—I can go some other day.’
‘I do not want it,’ said Mrs. Anderson, with a chill of dismay; and she turned to Ombra, and made some anxious suggestion about walking somewhere. ‘It will be a nice opportunity while Kate is occupied,’ said the poor soul, scheming to keep things smooth; ‘you said you wanted to see that part of the park.’
‘Yes,’ said Ombra, depressed too, though she would have been too proud to confess it; and thus it was arranged.