“There is no mist to-night, and not so many stars,” he said; and Katie answered, “No, not half so many stars,” showing, as he said to himself afterward, that she remembered too. She was more serious now than after that first evening at the Terrace, walking along very demurely by his side, and owning that she was tired. “But we have had a very pleasant day; don’t you think so, Mr. Rainy?” Katie asked; to which Philip answered, “Ye-es,” with a little doubt.
“The drive back has been delightful,” he said, “the air is so soft. I don’t know that I enjoyed so much the first part. It irritates me, perhaps foolishly, to see the fuss all those people make about Lucy. It was really too much for me to-day; I felt bound to put a stop to it as far as I could. Lucy is a very nice girl, but to see them, you would think there was nobody like her. It makes me angry. I dare say it is very foolish, for Lucy is sensible enough to know that it is not herself but her money that so much court is paid to. But the drive home was worth all the rest put together,” Philip said, with fervor. This made Katie’s head droop a little with shyness and pleasure.
“It was very nice,” she said, in more guarded tones, and with a little sigh of content. “But, Mr. Rainy, you must not vex yourself about Lucy. That is what she has to go through, just as I must go through my governessing. She is sure to have everybody after her wherever she goes, but she is so sensible it never makes any difference; she is not spoiled a bit.”
“Do you think so? do you really think so? that will make my mind much more easy about her,” said Philip. As if Katie was a judge! This was the reflection she herself made: and Katie could scarcely help laughing, under the shadow of night, at the sudden, importance of her own judgment. But, after all, however young one may be, one feels that there is a certain reasonableness in any reliance upon one’s opinion, and she answered with a gravity that was not quite fictitious, that she was sure of it, and did all she could to comfort Philip, who, on his part, exaggerated his anxiety, and carefully refrained from all allusion to that secret unwillingness to let the great Rainy fortune go to any one else, which had moved him powerfully during the day. They took leave at the door of the White House, as they had done before, but not till after a pause and a lingering talk, always renewed upon some fresh subject by Philip just as she held out her hand to say good-night. He had held that hand quite two minutes in his, on the strength of some new and interesting subject which suddenly occurred to him at the last moment, when Katie, seized with a little panic, suddenly withdrew it and darted away. “Good-night,” she said, from the door-step, nodding her head and waving her hand as before, and once more Philip felt as if a curtain had dropped, shutting out heaven and earth, when the door opened and shut, and a gleam of light shone out, then disappeared. Analyze it! he could not analyze it. He had never been so happy before, nor so sad, nor so fortunate, nor so desolate; but how he could be so ridiculous as to be moved in this way, Philip could not tell. He went back along the dark road, going over every word she had said, and every look she had looked. Lucy’s window shone all the way before him, the light in it glimmering out from the dark front of the Terrace. It seemed to Philip that he could not get rid of Lucy. He felt impatient of her, and of her window, which seemed to call him, shining as with a signal-light. Its importunity was such, that he decided at last to cross the road and call at the door, and ask if she had got home in safety. It was an unnecessary question, but he was excited and restless, half hating Lucy, yet unable to overcome the still greater hatred he had, and terror, of seeing her fall into some one else’s hands. When his voice was heard at the door, Mrs. Ford rushed out of her parlor with great eagerness.
“Come in, Philip, come in,” she cried; “I heard the carriage stop, but what have you been doing all this time? I just hoped it might be you;” then she came close up to him and whispered, “Lucy came in in such good spirits. She said you had been there; she said you had been very attentive. If you would like to have a horse to ride to go with them, to cut out that Raymond Rushton, don’t you hesitate, Philip; tell them to send the bill to me.”
“Is that Philip?” Lucy asked from the stairs, almost before the whisper was over. He was half flattered, half angry at the cordiality of his reception. He walked upstairs to the drawing-room, feeling himself drawn by a compulsion which annoyed him, yet pleased him. The room was very bright with gaslight, the windows shut, as Mrs. Ford thought it right they should always be at such a late hour. Lucy had been superintending Jock, who was audible in his little room behind humming himself to sleep. “I thought it was your voice, Philip,” she said. “Did you like it? Thank you for being so kind to me, but I thought sometimes you did not like it yourself.”
“I liked it well enough, but what I did not like was to see what a position you have been put into, Lucy,” said her cousin; “that was why I took so much trouble. It makes one think worse of human nature.”
“Because they are kind to me?” said Lucy, with surprise.
“Because they are—absurd,” said Philip. “You must see very well they can not mean all that. I should think a sensible girl would be disgusted. I wanted to show you what nonsense it all was, as if their whole happiness depended on showing you that water-fall, or the abbey tower or something. That was why I interfered.”
“I thought,” said Lucy, “it was out of kindness; and that everybody was kind as well as you.”