Aunt Cicely grew angry. Her will had been so long dominant that she could not brook opposition. And in proportion to her increased determination, Catherine’s defiance became more and more resolute. It was the battle of two wills, and the girl had herself scarcely realised till then how strong her own could be.
At last her aunt moved away, her whole frame shaking with indignation, and tottered towards the door; but as she reached it, she turned, and, lifting her hand, exclaimed—
“Remember! From this time you are disinherited! Not a penny of my money shall ever reach you!”
Catherine drew herself up with girlish dignity. “I have given you no right to speak like that,” she said. “I have never shown any desire for your money. I was independent of your favour before, and I can be independent again.”
The door closed, and Catherine sank exhausted into an arm-chair. But when the first impulse of resentment had subsided, she began to have regrets. After all, her aunt was an old woman, and however irritating she might be, her age entitled her to forbearance. And she was ill and suffering, and any excitement was bad for her. Catherine dried her eyes, and ran lightly upstairs to the old lady’s room. She tapped at the door, but received no response: and after waiting a long time she concluded that her aunt’s resentment was still unabated, and crept miserably to bed.
Aunt Cicely, tossing uneasily to and fro, was not less remorseful. But she was still convinced that her advice was sound, and that the girl should have taken it. After all, had she not the experience of a lifetime to guide her? Reviewing her brilliant girlhood and the long years of desolation and loneliness that had resulted from her own foolish pride, she resolved emphatically that another life should not be sacrificed in the same manner. If Catherine would not take the necessary steps to bring about an understanding, she would take them herself. She had known Lord Mayne’s father, and had followed the son’s career with much interest. She could use her knowledge of the family and introduce herself to the latter, from whom she would, no doubt, be able to learn all that was necessary about his secretary. And if she approved of him, she did not doubt that she would be able to bring the match about. She waited impatiently for the morning, and at six o’clock rang for her maid.
“I must go to London by the 7.30 train,” she said. “Tell Wilkins to have the brougham ready in an hour. And don’t disturb Miss Catherine. She was up late last night, so you might take some breakfast to her at nine o’clock. Now help me to dress.”
(To be concluded.)