“You think it would be a good thing for your brother?” asked Catherine, glad that the darkening room hid her face.
“What a question to ask! It would be his making. Blanche is just the wife for him—a tall, clever girl, who would make a capital hostess, and help him in his political career. If it hadn’t been for his horrid pride, which makes him dread the mere suspicion of interested motives, the thing would have come off long ago. And now I think I may promise you a ticket for the Ladies’ Gallery when he makes his maiden speech.”
“Is he so very proud? Does he really care for her?” faltered Catherine.
“Well, I don’t pretend that he is passionately in love. He is so reserved and so self-controlled, and all his interests are intellectual; love would never play an absorbing part in his life, though, if he once made up his mind, no one would be more loyal. Oh, I think Lady Blanche will be very happy, and if I didn’t think the main advantage would be with her, I wouldn’t try so hard to bring it about. Now, good-bye, dear; only for a day, you know. And mind you have a good rest while we are away.”
Margaret disappeared, and Catherine did the obvious and feminine thing under the circumstances; she buried her face in the sofa cushion and burst into tears. Till then, she felt, she had never known what grief was. “But it is much better for him,” she sobbed. “How could I help him, or ever do anything for him? It was all a mistake—and how silly I am!”
Presently she dried her tears, and carefully bathing her eyes and brushing her hair, she exchanged her dressing-gown for the dress she had travelled in. Then she dragged out her portmanteau, and began to fold her clothes, preparatory to packing them in it. In the midst of these preparations, there came another knock at the door. This time it was the chambermaid with a note.
Catherine took it with a feeling that almost amounted to dread, and tore it open.
“Dearest,” it ran, “I am obliged to be away to-morrow, and shall not be able to see you before I start. I shall try to be back in the evening. Good-bye for a little while.
“G. G.”
This was the signal for a fresh burst of tears. She held the letter to her lips for a minute, and then folded it away in the bosom of her dress. Then she went on with her packing. In another hour it was all done.