"Cathy does not pretend to be a Florence Nightingale," put in Langley, quietly.
"I thought you always told us to elevate our standard?" a little defiantly, from Cathy.
"The higher the better," with a benign glance at her; "but it must be a true standard, unselfishness and self-sacrifice for its base, and built up of pure motives. If it be one-sided it will topple over."
"Ah! I can't read parables," rather crossly.
"Are you sure that you are really trying to read mine? You remind me of some little child, Miss Catherine, gathering shells by the sea-shore, and throwing all the pearls away. If you look far enough into the meanings of things you will perceive their value. About your plan, now?"
"I will not hear a word against it," she returned wilfully, and going over to Miss Cosie. "It is bad enough to have to argue with all one's home people; but to be lectured in public, and before Dr. Stewart—no, indeed, Mr. Logan."
"Very well, I will reserve what I have to say in private," he returned, looking after her with a sort of indulgent tenderness, as though she were the little child to whom he had compared her; and Queenie, who was near him, saw a certain vivid brightness in his eyes as he watched her.
The circle broke up after this; but, though it was tolerably late for Hepshaw hours, they did not yet talk of separating. It was a lovely moonlight night, and, at Garth's invitation, Queenie strolled with him up and down the Vicar's steep, narrow garden. Dr. Stewart joined them, and talked for some time about his Indian experiences.
They were both novel and interesting, and engrossed them wholly. Queenie was so fascinated by his description of Indian scenery that she with difficulty remembered the lateness of the hour, and that Langley and Cathy would be wondering at her absence; but she at last made an excuse to leave them.
She lingered for a moment under the shadow of the house to watch the two dark figures still pacing up and down the steep path. This evening's excitement had quickened her pulses. The arrival of the stranger, Miss Faith's repressed agitation at the sight of him, Cathy's strange restlessness and plan for leaving home, had disturbed the even current of events. The moral air seemed charged with electricity and rife with disturbance; somewhere a storm seemed impending. This sense of movement, of vitality, was not unpleasant; youth dreads nothing more than monotony. It is only in age that one sits with folded hands expecting nothing. Garth's manner, too, had given her pleasure; it had been more than usually friendly. There had been appreciation in his glance, a certain cordiality in his tone, that had fallen pleasantly on her ear. "If he will only remain my friend I shall envy no girl her lover," thought Queenie, with a sudden fulness of heart; but at that moment she was startled from her reverie by the sound of voices in the dark entry behind her.