"As if I noticed! Why, you might be a man! Besides it was only decent to look away."
"Yes, one looks on till there"s a row--and then one looks away. I suppose that"s Christianity."
"Now really, I must beg you, Christine----"
"Well, Eva"s not in the room, is she, Kate?"
"You"re quite at your worst this afternoon." She came and touched her friend"s arm lightly. "Are you unhappy?"
"Don"t! It"s your business to be good and sympathetic--and stupid," said Christine, wriggling under her affectionate touch.
"But John"s affairs are ever so much better, aren"t they?"
"Yes, ever so much. It"s not John"s affairs. It"s---- Good gracious, who"s this?"
Something like a tornado had suddenly swept into the room. It was Jeremy in a state of high excitement. He had a letter in his hand, and rushed up to Kate Raymore, holding it out. At first he did not notice Christine.
"I"ve had a letter from Sibylla----" he began excitedly.
"Any particular news?" asked Christine quickly.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fanshaw! I--I didn"t see you." His manner changed. Christine"s presence evidently caused him embarra.s.sment. "No; no particular news. It"s--it"s not about her, I mean."
"I"ll go if you like, but I should dearly like to hear." She looked imploringly at Jeremy; she was thinking that after all he was a very nice boy.
"Give me the letter, Jeremy. Show me the place," said Kate Raymore.
Jeremy did as she bade him, and stood waiting with eager eyes. Christine made no preparations for going; she thought that with a little tact she might contrive to stay and hear the news. She was not mistaken.
"Dora Hutting engaged!" said Kate, with a long breath.
Jeremy nodded portentously.
"Good gracious me!" murmured Kate.
"To a curate--a chap who"s a curate," said Jeremy. His tone was full of meaning.
"Wasn"t she always High Church?" asked Christine sympathetically.
"Why, you never knew her, Mrs. Fanshaw?"
"No, but most curates are High Church now, aren"t they?"
"It"s very curious, isn"t it, Jeremy?" asked Mrs. Raymore. "Met him at her aunt"s, I see Sibylla says."
Jeremy stood before the fire with knitted brows. "Yes, at her aunt"s,"
he repeated thoughtfully.
"Why is it curious, Kate?"
"Oh, you know nothing about it, Christine."
"I"m trying to learn--if Mr. Chiddingfold would only tell me."
"It"s nothing. It"s--it"s just a girl I used to know, Mrs. Fanshaw."
"Ah, those girls one used to know, Mr. Chiddingfold!"
Jeremy laughed--he laughed rather knowingly.
"And she"s consoled herself?" pursued Christine.
"Oh, come now, I say, Mrs. Fanshaw!"
"It"s no use trying to be serious with her, Jeremy. We"ll read all about it when she"s gone."
"Yes, all right. But to think----! Well, I"m dining here, aren"t I?"
"Oh, yes," said Christine rea.s.suringly.
"Christine, you"re very impertinent. Yes, of course, Jeremy, and we"ll discuss it then. Why don"t you find Eva? She"s in the library, I think."
"Oh, is she? Then I--I might as well, mightn"t I?" He spoke listlessly, almost reluctantly. And he did not leave the room by a straight path, but drifted out of it with an accidental air, fingering a book or two and a nick-nack or two on his devious way. Christine"s eyes followed his erratic course with keen amus.e.m.e.nt.
"You wicked woman!" she said to Kate as the door closed. "You might have given him one afternoon to dedicate to the memory of Miss Dora--what was her name?"
"She was the rector"s daughter down at Milldean. Well, I"m really glad.
I fancy she was a flighty girl, Christine."
"Oh dear me, I hope not," said Christine gravely. "What an escape for the poor dear boy!"
"You shan"t put me out of temper," beamed Kate Raymore.
"I should think not, when your machinations are triumphing!"
"He"s too nice a boy to be thrown away. And I don"t think he was quite happy about it."
"I don"t suppose he deserved to be."
"And now he can----"
"Oh, I won"t hear any more about it! As it is, I"ve heard a lot more than anybody meant me to, I suppose." She got up. "I must go home," she said, with a little frown. "I"m glad I came. I like you and your silly young people, Kate."
"Oh, no, stay a little," Kate begged. "I want to ask you about a frock for Eva."
Christine was glad to talk about frocks--it was the craft whereof she was mistress--and glad too to stay a little longer at the Raymores".
There was youth in the air there, and hope. The sorrow that was gradually lifting seemed still to enrich by contrast the blossoming joy of the young lives which had their centre there. Her chaff covered so keen a sympathy that she could not safely do anything except chaff. The thought of the different state of things which awaited her at home did as much to make her linger as her const.i.tutional dislike of leaving a cheery fire for the dreary dusk outside. Once she was near confiding the whole truth to Kate Raymore, so sore a desire had she for sympathy. But in the end her habit of reticence won the day, and she refused to betray herself, just as she had declined to be false to Sibylla"s secret. What would Kate Raymore do for her? To speak of her trouble would only be to cast a shadow over the joy of a friendly heart.
When she did go, chance tempted her to a very mean action, and she fell before the temptation without the least resistance. The lights were not yet turned up on the staircase or in the hall, and Christine, left by her own request to find her way downstairs, found the library door open--it gave on to the hall. The room was not lighted either, except by a bright fire. She saw two figures sitting by the fire, and drew back into the gloom of the hall with a smile on her lips.