"I like her too," replied Mrs. Ellicott. "She has plenty of common-sense, and though her face is not a handsome one, it bears on it the stamp of a true nature. I could never imagine Hetty Stapleton capable of littleness or meanness in any shape. I wish she lived at Oakwood, for your sake, Kitty."
"So do I, aunty. Girls, of the sort to make friends of, are few indeed within walking distance of home, and by your own account Hetty would be the perfection of one. Sensible, true, incapable of meanness, and, most important of all, not too handsome, she would leave nothing to be desired," said Kathleen, with an arch look on her face as she alluded to Hetty's personal appearance. "Now I must go, or I shall lose my walk. Take care of yourself, there's a dear."
Away went Kathleen alone, a little to her aunt's regret. Mrs. Ellicott had purposely held her in talk, half hoping that Mr. Matheson would make his appearance and offer to accompany her, as he had spoken of calling during the morning. Perhaps Kathleen would meet him before she passed out of the grounds, and in that case Aylmer would certainly offer his escort.
Mrs. Ellicott went to the window and watched her niece's rapidly-retreating figure until she could see it no longer, then resumed her easy-chair by the fire, where for some time she sat alone and in deep thought.
Though no word had passed between Geraldine and herself respecting Aylmer Matheson's devoted affection for his ward, both had divined it. But Mrs. Ellicott never for a moment dreamed that Aylmer had won the heart of her own daughter, without seeking it. Indeed, no one would have guessed this, least of all Aylmer himself. Only Kathleen had occasionally twitted her cousin by jesting allusions to Mr. Matheson's perfections, and Geraldine's evident appreciation of them. But even she had been silenced by her cousin's gentle replies and calmness of manner whenever Aylmer's name was mentioned.
"She cares nothing about Aylmer, except as a sort of adopted brother," had been Kathleen's mental conclusion.
"I wish she did, and that he cared for her. They would make a model couple, and suit each other to perfection. But the wrong people are constantly getting mated, and I suppose there is no help for it. However, Ger may be sure that she will never have a rival in me."
This last thought was passing through Kathleen's mind as she left the Hall and started on her walk. By the time she passed beyond her own boundaries, she found herself wondering whether the owner of Monk's How had returned, or if there were any truth in the report that he was not likely to be seen again in the neighbourhood of Hollingsby, unless his empty pockets were refilled by some extraordinary piece of good fortune.
Then Kathleen began to dream on her own account. She pictured Captain Jack as having another side to his character—a brighter, better, purer one than that which was open to the world. Evil reports were always exaggerated. Let people get hold of a little scandal, and it grew with every pair of lips the tale passed through. Lovers of slander delighted to show the worst side of a character, that they might the more readily find listeners. It was horrible to think how much more willing people were to pull characters to pieces than to give any one credit for what was good in them, much less to imagine any person's inner life could be better than what was on the surface.
Captain Jack was handsome. No one could deny that. Every one said he had wasted his wife's fortune, but few told how Mrs. Torrance had always believed in her husband, and that with all his faults he had loved her while living, and mourned her early death.