But Mr. Sugden was too much in earnest to be embarrassed by the gentle denial she made of any necessity for his help.
‘At any time, in any circumstances,’ he said, hoarsely. ‘Mrs. Anderson, I do not say this is what I would choose—but if your daughter should have need of a—of one who would serve her—like a brother—I do not say it is what I would choose——’
‘My dear Mr. Sugden! you are so very good——’
‘No, not good,’ he said, anxiously—‘don’t say that—good to myself—if you will but believe me. I would forget everything else.’
‘You may be sure, should I feel myself in need, you will be the first I shall go to,’ said Mrs. Anderson, graciously. (‘What can he mean?—what fancy can he have taken into his head?’ she was saying, with much perplexity, all the time to herself.) ‘I cannot ask you to come in, Mr. Sugden—we must keep everything quiet for Ombra; but I hope we shall see you soon.’
And she dismissed him, accepting graciously all his indistinct and eager offers of service. ‘He is very good; but I don’t know what he is thinking of,’ she said rather drearily as she turned to go in. Kate was still clinging to her, and Kate, though it was not necessary to keep up appearances with her, had better, Mrs. Anderson thought, be kept in the dark too, as much as was possible. ‘I am going to Ombra,’ she said. ‘Good night, my dear child. Go to bed.’
‘Auntie, stop a minute. Oh! auntie, take me into your confidence. I love her, and you too. I will never say a word, or let any one see that I know. Oh! Auntie—Ombra—has she gone with them?—has she—run—away?’
‘Ombra—run away!’ cried Mrs. Anderson, throwing her niece’s arm from her. ‘Child, how dare you? Do you mean to insult both her and me?’
Kate stood abashed, drawn back to a little distance, tears coming to her eyes.
‘I did not mean any harm,’ she said, humbly.