CHAPTER VIII.
CROSS PURPOSES.
"When love shall, pitying, call me home,
To that sweet, sweet home that has long been hers,
With yearning rapture my eyes will roam
O'er throngs of the sainted worshippers.
For I think the child with the starry eyes,
Who vanished away to that far-off land,
Will look from some window in Paradise,
And beckon me in with her tiny hand."
Helen Marion Burnside.
Queenie's forebodings were not verified, for, in spite of two untoward circumstances, the greater part of the winter passed quietly to the inhabitants of the cottage and Church-Stile House.
Only two things marred its perfect harmony. Garth had not yet spoken, and Cathy had bade good-bye to her friends at Hepshaw, and had begun her London work in earnest.
Queenie felt the loss of her friend bitterly; every one missed the bright, light-hearted girl. Cathy's moods had of late been strangely variable: fits of despondency had alternated with bursts of wild, exuberant spirits; a certain sweet recklessness had tinged even her farewell greetings.
They were all at the station to see her off, even Mr. Logan and Miss Cosie, and at the last moment Dr. Stewart appeared.
Queenie seemed utterly quenched, and Langley looked depressed and tearful; but Cathy looked at them all with her bright, resolute smile.
"Good-bye, dear friends; don't miss me too much, before long I shall be amongst you again," she said, as she waved her hand gaily, and the train moved slowly away.
A curiously sweet expression crossed Mr. Logan's face as he walked by Queenie's side down the path bordered by plane trees that led from the station to the Deerhound.
"Miss her! how can we help missing her?" cried the girl, appealing to him with sorrowful eyes, as though to claim his sympathy. "Langley will be dreadfully lonely without her, and as for Emmie and me! why she was the only friend that we had at Granite Lodge, the dearest, and the kindest, and the bravest." But here Queenie's eulogy ended in a little sob.