"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? What have I done to call forth such a speech?" said Geraldine, and dropping down on a seat, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
Kathleen's irritation gave place to regret in an instant. Nothing could be more unlike Geraldine than the act of which she had been accused, and she could not have imagined it possible that her cousin would associate what savoured of meanness with her character. She was not given to frequent tears, but she was feeling far from well, and Kathleen's angry questioning caused her acute distress.
"What a wretch I am, Ger! do forgive me! I am horribly ashamed of myself. To think I could say such dreadful things to you, and make you cry by my unkindness. Of course you were not watching me on purpose, even if you saw me. Oh dear, dear, when shall I learn to govern my temper and my tongue?"
"I will tell you how it happened," replied Geraldine, raising her head and wiping the tears from her pale cheeks.
"No, no. Tell me nothing," cried Kathleen. "I should wrong you by listening. Do I not know that you would not do a mean thing to save your life? Only forgive me."
"Please listen, Kitty. I must tell you."
"Then, listening shall be my penance," said Kathleen, "for every word of your defence will be an added reproach."
"I will cut my words very short, dear, out of consideration for your present penitence, and," added Geraldine, with a smile, "your hunger."
"Ah, I was forgetting that in the business of hating myself; but it will come back with double force directly, as all merely animal wants persist in doing."
"I was getting ready to come downstairs for luncheon, and I stopped to rest for a moment, as my head felt giddy at first. As I looked across the grounds and park, I was struck with the wondrous loveliness of the winter landscape, and I felt a little envious of you, Kitty dear, as I pictured you going merrily over the crisp path, and revelling in your surroundings."