[CHAPTER VII]
CAPTAIN JACK'S APOLOGY
THE sun was shining gloriously overhead, the sky was blue, the snow hard and crisp underfoot, and of wind there was only enough to give a barely perceptible movement to the topmost twigs of the leafless trees. It was an ideal winter's morning for walking, and as Kathleen Mountford looked on the beautiful picture spread before her windows, she determined to enjoy it more fully out-of-doors.
"It is of no use asking you to walk with me, aunt," she said, addressing Mrs. Ellicott.
"If I were a few years younger, Kitty, there is nothing I should enjoy so much as a long brisk walk with you. But when I do go out with young people, I always feel that I am like a clog to their heels. At my slow pace, I should starve and shiver in the keen air, and the worst of it is a young companion would shiver with me, and be longing all the while to keep up her circulation by movements better befitting her years. I shall nurse the fire to-day, my dear, and battle against the feeling of envy that will intrude into the minds of old folks as they witness the movements of the young."
"It must be hard, aunty, especially when any one has led an actively useful life like yours."
"We ought to remember that we have been young, and I, for one, can thank God as I look back, since He has left me bright memories of a healthy, happy girlhood, free from serious anxieties of any kind. You, Kathleen, are laying up such memories day by day."
"You can hardly say that my girlhood has been all brightness," replied Kathleen, in a low voice, and with a sudden look of gravity on her fair face. "When one has lost both parents years and years before one grew much beyond childhood, there has been sorrow enough to fling a veil over much of its brightness."
"True, darling. But God has left you so many mercies, and you have had no unloved girlhood."
"I know that, aunty. Still, with neither parent, brother, nor sister, the best places in my heart are hopelessly empty, though others are wonderfully filled."