"But," added her uncle, "it is not as if you had not gone to older and better friends than any you have ever had, my poor child. I am afraid you have been much tried, and have not had a happy life since you left Oldburgh."

"I have always been naughty," said Kate.

"Then we must try if your Aunt Emily can help you to be good. Will you try to be as like her own child to her as you can, Katharine?"

"And to you," actually whispered Kate; for somehow at that moment she cared much more for the stern uncle than the gentle aunt.

He lifted her up and kissed her, but set her down again with the sigh that told how little she could make up to him for the son he had left in Egypt. Yet, perhaps that sigh made Kate long with more fervent love for some way of being so very good and affectionate as quite to make him happy, than if he had received her demonstration as if satisfied by it.

CHAPTER XV.

Nothing of note pa.s.sed during the rest of the evening. Mrs.

Umfraville came home; but Kate had fallen back into the shy fit that rendered her unwilling to begin on what was personal, and the Colonel waited to talk it over with his wife alone before saying any more.

Besides, there were things far more near to them than their little great-niece, and Mrs. Umfraville could not see Lord de la Poer without having her heart very full of the sons to whom he had been so kind. Again they sat round the fire, and this time in the dark, while once more Giles and Frank and all their ways were talked over and over, and Kate was forgotten; but she was not sitting alone in the dark window--no, she had a footstool close to her uncle, and sat resting her head upon his knee, her eyes seeking red caverns in the coals, her heart in a strange peaceful rest, her ears listening to the mother's subdued tender tones in speaking of her boys, and the friend's voice of sympathy and affection. Her uncle leant back and did not speak at all; but the other two went on and on, and Mrs.

Umfraville seemed to be drinking in every little trait of her boys'

English life, not weeping over it, but absolutely smiling when it was something droll or characteristic.

Kate felt subdued and reverent, and loved her new relations more and more for their sorrows; and she began to dream out castles of the wonderful goodness by which she would comfort them; then she looked for her uncle's hand to see if she could dare to stroke it, but one was over his brow, the other out of reach, and she was shy of doing anything.

The dinner interrupted them; and Kate had the pleasure of dining late, and sitting opposite to Lord de la Poer, who talked now and then to her, and told her what Adelaide and Grace were doing; but he was grave and sad, out of sympathy with his friends, and Kate was by no means tempted to be foolish.

Indeed, she began to feel that she might hope to be always good with her uncle and aunt, and that they would never make her naughty. Only too soon came the announcement of the carriage for Lady Caergwent; and when Aunt Emily took her into the bedroom to dress, she clung to that kind hand and fondled it.

"My dear little girl!" and Aunt Emily held her in her arms, "I am so glad! Kate, I do think your dear uncle is a little cheered to-night!

If having you about him does him any good, how I shall love you, Katie!" and she hugged her closer. "And it is so kind in Lord de la Poer to have come! Oh, now he will be better! I am so thankful he is in England again! You must be with us whenever Barbara can spare you, Katie dear, for I am sure he likes it."

"Each wants me, to do the other good," thought Kate; and she was so much touched and pleased that she did not know what to do, and looked foolish.

Uncle Giles took her down stairs; and when they were in the carriage, in the dark, he seemed to be less shy: he lifted her on his knee and said, "I will talk to your aunt, and we will see how soon you can come to us, my dear."

"Oh, do let it be soon," said Kate.

"That must depend upon your Aunt Barbara," he answered, "and upon law matters, perhaps. And you must not be troublesome to her; she has suffered very much, and will not think of herself, so you must think for her."

"I don't know how, Uncle Giles," said poor sincere Kate. "At home, they always said I had no consideration."

"You must learn," he said gravely. "She is not to be hara.s.sed."

Kate was rather frightened; but he spoke in a kinder voice. "At home, you say. Do you mean with my sisters, or at Oldburgh?"

"Oh, at Oldburgh, Uncle Giles!"

"You are older now," he answered, "and need not be so childish."

"And please one thing--"

"Well--"

There came a great choking in her throat, but she did get it out.

"Please, please, don't think all I do wrong is the Wardours' fault!

I know I am naughty and horrid and unladylike, but it is my own own fault, indeed it is, and n.o.body ELSE'S! Mary and Uncle Wardour would have made me good--and it was all my fault."

"My dear," and he put the other hand so that he completely encircled the little slim waist, "I do quite believe that Mr. Wardour taught you all the good you have. There is nothing I am so glad of as that you love and reverence him as he deserves--as far as such a child can do. I hope you always will, and that your grat.i.tude will increase with your knowledge of the sacrifices that he made for you."

It was too much of a speech for Kate to answer; but she nestled up to him, and felt as if she loved him more than ever. He added, "I should like to see Mr. Wardour, but I can hardly leave your aunt yet.

Would he come to London?"

Kate gave a gasp. "Oh dear! Sylvia said he would have no money for journeys now! It cost so much his coming in a first-cla.s.s carriage with me."

"You see how necessary it is to learn consideration," said the Colonel; "I must run down to see him, and come back at night."

By this time they were at the aunts' door, and both entered the drawing-room together.

Lady Barbara anxiously hoped that Katharine had behaved well.

"Perfectly well," he answered; and his face was really brighter and tenderer.

It was Kate's bed-time, and she was dismissed at once. She felt that the kiss and momentary touch of the hand, with the "Bless you," were far more earnest than the mere greeting kiss. She did not know that it had been his wonted good-night to his own children.

When she was gone, he took a chair, and explained that he could remain for a little while, as Lord de la Poer would bear his wife company. Lady Jane made room for him on the sofa, and Lady Barbara looked pleased.

"I wished to talk to you about that child," he said.

"I have been wishing it for some time," said Lady Barbara; "waiting, in fact, to make arrangements till your return."

"What arrangements?"

"For forming an establishment for her."

"The child's natural home is with you or with me."

There was a little silence; then Lady Jane nervously caught her brother's hand, saying, "O Giles, Giles, you must not be severe with her, poor little thing!"

"Why should I be severe, Jane?" he said. "What has the child done to deserve it?"

"I do not wish to enter into particulars," said Lady Barbara. "But she is a child who has been so unfortunately brought up as to require constant watching; and to have her in the house does so much harm to Jane's health, that I strongly advise you not to attempt it in Emily's state of spirits."

"It would little benefit Emily's spirits to transfer a duty to a stranger," said the Colonel. "But I wish to know why you evidently think so ill of this girl, Barbara!"

"Her entire behaviour since she has been with us--" began Lady Barbara.

"Generalities only do mischief, Barbara. If I have any control over this child, I must know facts."

"The truth is, Giles," said his sister, distressed and confused, "that I promised the child not to tell you of her chief piece of misconduct, unless I was compelled by some fresh fault."