“But why have you told me this?” he asked. “I cannot pretend not to understand to whom you refer. But has Miss West——”
“Catherine, who, as you have guessed, is my niece, has told me very little. But, apparently, you are almost the only man she knows. I believe that I can trust you, for in a long life my powers of intuition have seldom played me false. What I want to know is whether you would be prepared to be one of the executors of my will, and to look after her interests when I am gone?”
“You place me in a very difficult position,” answered he. “Whatever may be Miss West’s feeling towards me, I tell you plainly that no other woman shall ever be my wife. But though I am glad for her sake that she has found you, your news is a personal disappointment to me. I have spent the last three weeks in a ceaseless search for her. I had hoped in a few days to go to her and offer all I have—which, if not much, would at least have been something. How can I do so now? And if I accept the executorship I shall be placed in the painful position of seeing her continually without feeling at liberty to declare my affection.”
“But why should you not declare it? Catherine may return your affection, and she is quite without fortune at present. If you honestly care for her now, why not follow up your acquaintance. Come and see her as my visitor, and win her by a gradual courtship?”
“I cannot do it,” he said. “Simply because I love her, I will not owe anything to her. I will not expose myself to the imputation of interested motives, nor her to the humiliating suspicion of having been sought for her money.”
“Really! Were ever two people more contrary?” exclaimed Aunt Cicely. “But suppose she already——”
“Stop, I beg of you,” he interrupted. “You have no right to betray your niece’s confidences.”
“Well,” said his visitor, standing up, “I see that you are unmanageable. I will give you a week to think it over. You say you love her, and you have the opportunity of doing her a great service. Will you not sink these quixotic ideas in the desire to help her?”
And with these words she departed, congratulating herself on having discovered the state of Granville’s mind without hopelessly compromising Catherine, or doing anything at the discovery of which her niece need blush. She drove off in high spirits to her lawyer, planning a scheme which would inevitably bring the two lovers together without sacrificing the pride of either. And after spending some time with her solicitor, she took the last train home, feeling very tired, but with the pleasant consciousness of having performed a good day’s work.
Meanwhile Catherine had spent a miserable day. She had lain awake most of the previous night, planning a reconciliation with her aunt; but towards morning she had fallen asleep, and did not wake till the maid entered her room at nine o’clock. Her aunt had gone, had taken the 7.30 train to London, they said. At first Catherine had wild thoughts of following her thither; she was not in a fit state of health to travel alone, but ignorance of her destination was a hopeless obstacle. So after spending the morning in vain attempts to read and practise, the girl set out for the station, where she met every down train that afternoon. Her patience was at length rewarded by the appearance of her aunt, looking so pale and tired that Catherine was seized with sudden alarm. She saw that Miss West was almost too much exhausted to speak, so, hurrying her into the carriage, she drove quickly home, and persuaded her to go to bed at once. Little was said on either side, but the kisses that were exchanged as her niece left her for the night satisfied Catherine that she was forgiven.