Hardly has he sent away the order when he is called off to Hillview; and when his duties there are over, he determines to pay a farewell visit to Lady Ribson. He thinks of Katie all the way he is going to Belton Park. But when is he not thinking of her? His love has not lessened, though he has begun to see her faults. He is sorry she is not with him, and that she has never paid the needful respect to his god-mother. He has often and often urged her to call, but his persuasions have failed. Whenever he has made the suggestion, Katie has been so overwhelmed with engagements that she has hardly given him a hearing, and of late he has dropped the subject. He goes towards Belton Park in rather a gloomy mood after all. Lady Ribson quite expects Katie on this last evening, and while she welcomes the Admiral, she looks over his shoulder inquiringly.
'Ah! I knew you would come to say "good-bye," Herbert. But where is the "gudewife," the bonnie Katie?'
'Miss Delmere is staying with her, and she has many engagements; besides, you could hardly expect her out in this storm.'
'Ah no, certainly not. There are many reasons for Lady Dillworth's staying at home, and but few inducements for her to come out to see an old woman like me.'
'Katie has often said how anxious she is to know you.'
'True, true, Herbert; so you must bring her to Scotland with you in the bright summer-time—that is, if I'm spared to see it; but life is uncertain, my friend, life is uncertain.'
Lady Ribson, who is the brightest, kindest, dearest old woman in the world, smiles on her god-son, and does not let him see how much she is hurt by Katie's neglect of her; but in her heart she is sorry for him, more sorry than she would like him to know. Bessie his first wife was in her opinion perfection; and Katie she suspects is very much the reverse.
To her old eyes, the Admiral is still young, and she thinks there is hardly a woman in the world good enough to mate with him. 'I can see Herbert is not happy; and Laura Best was right when she foretold the risk her father ran in marrying a mere frivolous girl,' she decides in her own mind; but none of her suspicions float to the surface, so gay, so kindly, so warm is her manner. The Admiral sets out early on his homeward journey; his thoughts still turn to Katie, but they have grown softer, more tender. The gloom has passed from his spirit; the interview with Lady Ribson has calmed his ruffled thoughts; his reserve and pride have altogether melted down, and he longs to press his darling wife to his heart and forgive all her follies. He feels, even with all her failings, he loves her more completely, more passionately than he has ever loved the dead Bessie.
When he reaches Government House, it is brilliantly lighted up. The guests are assembled, and fragments of song and melody are floating out on the rough night-wind. Sir Herbert makes his way at once to the scene of festivity, and pauses at the door, astonished at the unwonted appearance of the rooms. As he has not been initiated into the arrangements, nor witnessed the preparations, the merest stranger present is not more ignorant than he is of all that has been going on. So he looks on the scene with curiosity. The music-room has been turned into a raised stage, with painted wings and festoons of scarlet curtains. A crescent-shaped row of gas jets serves as foot-lights, and throws a soft clear brilliance on the performers. Wreaths of flowers, clusters of trailing evergreens, pots of rich exotics, groups of banners, add to the display. Nothing that taste, art, fancy, or money can accomplish is wanting. The Admiral looks at all this; then at the rows of spectators; then at his wife, who comes forward on the stage at that moment leaning on Liddy's arm. Presently their voices ring out through the rooms; then a solo falls to Katie's share, and her husband listens spell-bound to her singing. Her voice is tuned to the deepest pathos, and her face is sad as her song.
Never has he seen Katie look like that before. The curiously cut costume suits her wonderfully well; the dress of azure silk falls in rich bright folds; her bodice glitters with gold and gems; and her hair turned back in its own luxuriant wealth of tresses, has no ornament but a diamond cluster. The mellowed rays from gas jets, hidden by the curtains, fall full on her head, and she shines out as though surrounded by a strange unearthly glory.