‘Mr. Sugden! When did you come? I never saw you. Have you dropped through from the skies?’
‘I ought to apologise,’ said the Curate, growing red.
‘Oh, never mind apologising! I know you have something to tell me!’ cried Kate.
‘But how can I tell you here? Yes, it is something—not bad news—oh, not bad news—don’t think so. I came off at once without thinking. A letter might have done as well; but I get confused, and don’t think till too late——’
‘I am so sorry for you!’ cried Kate impulsively, holding out her hand to him once more.
He took it, and then he dropped it, poor fellow! not knowing what else to do. Kate’s hand was nothing to him, nor any woman’s, except the one which was given into another man’s keeping. He was still dazed with his journey, and all that had happened. His theory was that, as he had found it out another way, he was clear of his promise to Mrs. Anderson; and then he had to set a mistake right. How could he tell what harm that mistake might do?
‘Your cousin—is married,’ he said.
‘Married!’ cried Kate. A slight shiver ran over her, a thrill that went through her frame, and then died out, and left her quite steady and calm. But, somehow, in that moment her colour, the bloom of sixteen, as Lady Caryisfort called it, died away from her cheek. She stood with her hands clasped, and her face raised, looking up to him. Of course it was only what she felt must happen some day; she said to herself that she had known it. There was nothing to be surprised about.
‘She was married last year, in Florence,’ the Curate resumed. And then the thrill came back again, and so strongly that Kate shook as if with cold. In a moment there rose up before her the group which she had met at the doorway on the Lung-Arno, the group which moved so quickly, and kept so close together, Ombra leaning on her husband’s arm. Yes, how blind she had been! That was the explanation—at a glance she saw it all. Oh! heaven and earth, how the universe reeled under her! He had looked at herself, spoken to her, touched her hand as only he had ever touched, and looked, and spoken—after that! The blood ebbed away from Kate’s heart; but though the world spun and swam so in the uncertainty of space, that she feared every moment to fall, or rather to be dashed down by its swaying, she kept standing, to all appearance immovable, before the tall Curate, with her hands clasped, and a smile upon her pale face.
‘Kate!’ said some one behind her—‘Kate!’