THE COURTSHIP OF CATHERINE WEST.
CHAPTER II.
hat day was the beginning of a week of pure delight to Catherine. In proportion as her body drank in the pure sweet air, so her mind and outlook developed and expanded. It was much for her to have the constant companionship of a woman like Margaret Gray, a woman whose generous nature viewed the girl’s beauty without jealousy, and delighted in setting it off to the best advantage. At first, indeed, she had had a qualm. Suppose that Granville, in spite of his apparent indifference, should take a fancy to this penniless teacher. What would become of all his sister’s ambitious schemes for his promotion by a marriage with Lord Mayne’s sister, a scheme not utterly absurd in the face of that lady’s marked esteem for him? That, indeed, would be a disastrous ending to Margaret’s benevolent plans, and she determined to avert it by a little talk with her new friend. She read Catherine through and through, and knew that she was one of those women who take a highly idealistic view of love and marriage; who conceive that even a suspected preference of a man for a particular woman makes him sacred to her, and who would shrink from desiring another girl’s lover as they would shrink from a robbery. If she could convey to Catherine that Granville’s affections were already engaged, she knew that she would have little to fear.
They were sitting out on the verandah after dinner, reviewing the delightful experiences of the day, spent in the ascent of a neighbouring hill.
“And to-morrow we will go into the valley for a change. Wouldn’t it be nice to go on the lake? Granville rows splendidly; he was in his college boat the last year at Oxford,” said Margaret.
“Don’t you think you two had better go alone?” asked Catherine. “I am sure you would enjoy it more, and I can easily find something else to do.”
“Oh, but you must come,” urged Margaret. “You would be frightfully dull alone, and I want you.”