“Oh, you mustn’t,” she cried, breaking from him in an agony of shame. One clear thought possessed her mind; either that kiss was treason to Lady Blanche, or he had taken advantage of her defenceless position to insult her. To her intense relief, as she hurried forwards round the turning of the path, she came upon all the others, who had stopped to drink at a little wayside spring.
“Oh, did you hear that noise?” asked Margaret. “I suppose it was a miniature avalanche.”
“Not a very insignificant one,” said Granville, who was close behind. “It nearly knocked us over. However, all’s well that ends well,” he added gaily. “Miss West, do you want a drink?”
His light, conversational tone struck on Catherine’s overstrained emotions with a sudden chill. How could he manage such a sudden transition? But she summoned all her self-control, and took the cup in as matter-of-fact a way as he handed it to her.
For the rest of the day she clung close to Margaret. She felt that to let Granville approach her would be treason to the friend who had reposed so much confidence in her. Suppose Margaret should think that she had been trying to attract her brother’s attention! And then, again, with a sudden pang came the cruel thought that his conduct might imply no real attachment to her; that he had merely given way to the impulse of the moment, or, worse still, was a deliberate flirt. And yet she could not believe this; all that she knew of him militated against such a view; she could not think that she had been so greatly mistaken in her estimate of his character, nor that he could thus belie the traditions of a gentleman. Her heart confirmed her faith in him, and amidst the tumultuous emotions of the moment, she was surprised and ashamed to recognise an irrepressible elation, and a strange absence of that feeling of angry humiliation which she supposed to be the correct state of mind under the circumstances. Notwithstanding this, when the hotel was again reached, she pleaded fatigue, and slipping away to her own room, did not reappear that evening.
Granville was walking up and down the verandah in a state of suppressed excitement, longing to see the flutter of her skirt in the doorway, yet conscious that her manner to him since the episode of the avalanche had been a tacit reproof. How stupid he had been to frighten her so; and yet, although he was not a vain man, he could not pretend to think that she had been very angry with him. She had permitted his embrace, and that from a girl of her stamp was a sufficient avowal of the state of her feelings. His honour as well as his inclination required that he should make a definite claim to her affection, and if Catherine had ventured to come down that evening he would have done so. But her absence gave him time for reflection, and as the wave of emotion subsided, he realised how fatal such a step would be to his career. He was an extremely ambitious man, and success to him would involve either a long celibacy, or a rich marriage. Hitherto his intellect had been developed at the expense of his affections, and except for his warm attachment to his sister, and a loyal friendship for Lord Mayne, his heart had remained untouched. He had dallied with the idea of a marriage with Blanche, but had not regarded it with much seriousness; from a worldly point of view it would certainly be advantageous, but, on the whole, he preferred the independence of the bachelor state. He remained on cordial terms with the heiress, and awaited the development of affairs without the least impatience, only laughing at his sister’s frequent hints as to Lady Blanche’s inclination for him. Perhaps, little as he suspected it, he was all the while guided by his own nobility of heart, which withheld him from the sacrilege of a loveless marriage. And would his heart now vindicate its authority over his intellect and triumph over the closely-laid schemes, the absorbing aims, the ceaseless industry of years? Supposing that Catherine should confirm her unspoken confession, was he prepared to relinquish for her his long-cherished ambitions, and resign himself to a life of insignificance and dependence?
But in the midst of the conflict something happened which revealed to him the strength of his passion, and brought him to a swift decision. His sister at this moment came running to him, her face flushed with excitement, holding a letter and telegram in her hand.
“What do you think?” she cried. “A letter from Blanche! Actually, she is at Interlaken, and wants to meet us there. She has been travelling with the Brookes, but they are going back through Paris, which she hates. The telegram has just come, too. She would like us to go there to-morrow, and bring her back with us.”
Secretly Margaret was thinking, “What a stroke of luck! Could anything be more favourable to an explanation than all these circumstances?” But Granville’s first exclamation was not promising.
“What a nuisance!” he cried.