Mrs. Anderson’s eyes ran over the whole range of possibilities, as over a landscape. How it would change the Cottage! Not only the want of Kate’s bright face, but the absence of so many comforts and luxuries which her wealth had secured! On the other side, it was possible that Ombra might be happier in her present circumstances without Kate’s companionship, which threw her own gloom and irritability into sharper relief. She had always been, not jealous—the mother would not permit herself to use such a word—but sensitive (this was her tender paraphrase of an ugly reality), in respect to Kate’s possible interference with the love due to herself. Would she be better alone?—better without the second child, who had taken such a place in the house? It was a miserable thought—miserable not only for the mother who had taken this second child into her heart, but shameful to think of for Ombra’s own sake. But still it might be true; and in that case, notwithstanding the pain of separation, notwithstanding the loss of comfort, it might be better that Kate should go. Thus in a moment, by the mere reading of Mr. Courtenay’s dry letter, which meant chiefly, ‘By-the-way, there is such a person as Kate—I suppose I ought to go and see her,’ Mrs. Anderson’s mind was driven into such sudden agitation and convulsion as happens to the sea when a whirlwind falls upon it, and lashes it into sudden fury. She was driven this way and that, tossed up to the giddy sky, and down to the salt depths; her very sight seemed to change, and the steady sunshine wavered and flickered before her on the wall.
‘Oh! what a nuisance!’ Kate had exclaimed on reading the letter; but as she threw it down on the table, after a second reading aloud, her eye caught her aunt’s troubled countenance. ‘Are you vexed, auntie? Don’t you like him to come? Then let me say so—I shall be so glad!’ she cried.
‘My dearest Kate, how could I be anything but glad to see your guardian?’ said Mrs. Anderson, recalling her powers; ‘not for his sake, perhaps, for I don’t know him, but to show him that, whatever the sentiments of your father’s family may have been, there has been no lack of proper feeling on our side. The only thing that troubles me is—— The best room is so small; and will Francesca’s cooking be good enough? These old bachelors are so particular. To be sure, we might have some things sent in from the hotel.’
‘If Uncle Courtenay comes, he must be content with what we have,’ said Kate, flushing high. ‘Particular indeed! If it is good enough for us, I should just think—— I suppose he knows you are not the Duchess of Shanklin, with a palace to put him in. And nobody wants him. He is coming for his own pleasure, not for ours.’
‘I would not say that,’ said Mrs. Anderson, with dignity. ‘I want him. I am glad that he should come, and see with his own eyes how you are being brought up.’
‘Being brought up! But I am eighteen. I have stopped growing. I am not a child any longer. I am brought up,’ said Kate.
Mrs. Anderson shook her head; but she kissed the girl’s bright face, and looked after her, as she went out, with a certain pride. ‘He must see how Kate is improved—she looks a different creature,’ she said to Ombra, who sat by in her usual languor, without much interest in the matter.
‘Do you think he will see it, mamma? She was always blooming and bright,’ said neutral-tinted Ombra, with a sigh. And then she added, ‘Kate is right, she is grown up—she is a woman, and not a child any longer. I feel the difference every day.’
Mrs. Anderson looked anxiously at her child.
‘You are mistaken, dear,’ she said. ‘Kate is very young in her heart. She is childish even in some things. There is the greatest difference between her and you—what you were at her age.’