A Crooked Path Part 26

"Would it not be well to make an appointment?"

"Oh dear no! I will take my chance; I would not write. Katie dear, I have torn all the flounce off my black and white dinner dress; you are so much more clever with your needle than I am, would you sew it on for me to-morrow?"

"No, I cannot, Ada--not to-morrow at least. I am busy altering mother's winter cloak, and she has nothing warm to put on until it is finished. I will show you how to arrange the flounce, and you will soon do it yourself if you try."

"Very well"--rather sulkily. "I am sure I was intended to be a rich man's wife, I am _so_ helpless."

"And I am sure I was born under 'a three-half-penny constellation,' as L. E. L. said, for I rather like helping myself," returned Katherine, laughing. "Only I should like to have a little exterior help besides."

"Do you know, Katherine, I am afraid you are very proud. I believe you think yourself the cleverest girl in the world."

"I should be much happier if I did," said Katherine, good-humoredly.

"Don't be a goose, Ada; let my disposition alone. I am afraid it is too decidedly formed to be altered."

"Colonel Ormonde was asking for you," resumed Mrs. Frederic, fearing she had allowed her temper too much play. "He is quite an admirer of yours."

"I am much obliged to him. Would you like to come to the theatre to-night? Mr. and Mrs. Wray have a box at the Adelphi, and have offered us two places. My mother thought you might like to go."

"With the Wrays? No, thank you. I never seem to get on with them; and if Colonel Ormonde happens to be there (and he might, for he is in town to-day), I should not care to be seen with them; they are not at all in society, you know."

"True," said Katherine, with perfect equanimity. "Then, dear mother, do come. Nothing takes you out of yourself so much as a good play. I shall enjoy it more if you are with us."

After a little discussion Mrs. Liddell agreed to go, and Mrs. Frederic retired to unpack, and to see what repairs were necessary, in a somewhat sulky mood.

The following morning Mrs. Liddell's head was aching so severely that her daughter would not allow her to get up. She therefore gave her sister-in-law an early luncheon, and saw her set forth on her visit to Mr. Newton. She was a little nervous about it; she wished Katherine to go with her, and yet she did not wish it.

She attired herself completely in black, and managed to give a mournful "distressed widow" aspect to her toilette: the little woman was an artist in her way, so long as her subject was self and its advantages.

Then Katherine devoted herself to her mother, who had taken a chill. It grieved her to see how the slightest indisposition preyed upon her strength.

The period of waiting was terribly long and wearing. Had she, after all, committed herself to an ever-gnawing loss of self-respect to enrich another? Katherine asked herself this question more than once.

She had refrained from troubling Mr. Newton with fruitless questions or impatient expressions, and her mother admired her forbearance. But in truth Catherine hated to approach the subject of her possible inheritance, though she never faltered in her purpose of keeping the existence of her uncle's will a profound secret.

Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from her visit to the friendly lawyer rather sooner than Katherine expected.

The moment she entered the drawing-room, where the latter was dusting the few china and other ornaments, her countenance evinced unusual disturbance.

"I am sure," she began, in a very high key, "if I had known what I was going to encounter, I should have stayed at home. There's no justice in this world for the widow and the fatherless."

"I cannot believe that Mr. Newton could be rude or unkind!" exclaimed Katherine, much startled.

"I do not say he was," returned Mrs. Fred, snappishly. "But either he is a stupid old idiot, or he has been telling me abominable stories. I don't--I can't believe them! Do you know he says he, they, all the old rogues together, believe that wretched miser had destroyed his will and died intestate, and that every penny will be yours; not a sou comes to the widow and children of the nephew. It is preposterous. It is the most monstrous injustice. If it is law, an act of Parliament ought to be pa.s.sed to--to do away with it. Fancy your having everything, and me, my boys and myself, dependent on _you_!"--scornful emphasis on "you."

"Is this possible?" exclaimed Katherine, dropping her duster in dismay.

"I thought that the property would be divided between the boys and myself."

"Why, that is only common-sense! If you _do_ get everything you will be well rewarded for your three months' penal servitude. You knew what you were about, though you _do_ despise rank and riches."

"But, Ada, I suppose my uncle would have destroyed his will whether I had been there or not."

"No. Mr. Newton's idea is that he intended to make a new will, probably leaving you a large sum, and so destroyed the old one. Mr. Newton thinks he grew to like you. Oh! you played your cards well! But it is too hard to think you cut out my dar-arling boys," she ended, with a sob.

Katherine grew very white; this outburst of fury roused her conscience.

She pulled herself together in an instant of quick thought, however.

"This is folly. What I have done will benefit the boys more than myself," she reflected.

"I do not wonder at your being vexed, Ada," she said, gently. "But fortunately one is not compelled to act according to law. If the whole of the fortune, whatever it may be, becomes mine, do you think I would keep it all to myself?"

"I am sure I don't know" said Mrs. Frederic, who had now subsided into the sulks. "When people get hold of money they seldom like to part with it; and I know you do not like _me_?"

"Why should you think so, Ada? We may not agree in our tastes, but that is no reason for dislike; and you know how glad I am to be of use to you, both for your own sake and poor Fred's."

"Well, I would rather not be dependent on you or any one. But there! I do not believe what that stupid old man says--I do not believe such a horrible law exists. I shall write and consult Colonel Ormonde, and find out if I could not dispute the will--no, not the will--the property. I should not like to give up my rights."

"Please, Ada, do not speak so loudly. My mother had just fallen asleep before you came in; and she had such a bad night!"

"Loud? I am not talking loudly. You mean to insinuate I am in a pa.s.sion? I am nothing of the kind. I am perfectly cool, but determined--determined to have justice, and my fair share of this man's wealth!"

"It may not be wealth; it may be only competence, and it is not ours to share yet."

"Not yours, you mean; that is what you _thought_, Katherine. And as to wealth, I believe that cruel old miser was _enor_mously rich! Where are the boys?"

"Out walking with Lottie. I am _so_ glad they were not in to hear all this! Do not talk to them of being rich, dear Ada; it puts unhealthy ideas into their minds, and--"

"Upon my word! I like to hear _you_, a mere girl, not quite nineteen yet, advising me, a mother, a married woman, about my own children. You need not presume on your expected riches. _I'll_ never play the part of a poor relation, and submit to be lectured by _you_."

Her sister-in-law's stings and pa.s.sing fits of ill-humor never irritated Katherine unless they worried her mother, nor did this most unwonted outburst of irrepressible indignation, but it distressed her. "Come, Ada, don't be cross," she said. "It was perhaps want of tact in me to suggest anything, though my idea is right enough. It is quite natural that you should be awfully vexed. Perhaps Mr. Newton _is_ wrong; at all events, if the law is unjust, _I_ need not act unjustly, and believe me, I _will_ not."

"I hope not," returned the young widow, a little mollified. "I always believe you haven't a bad heart, Katherine, though you have a disagreeble sullen temper. Now _I_ am too open; you see the worst of me at once; but I do not remember unkindness; and if you do what is right in this, I--I shall always speak of you as you deserve. Do get me something to eat; I am awfully hungry, and though I hate beer, I will take some; it is better than nothing. How _you_ go on on water I cannot imagine; it will ruin your digestion."

So they went amicably enough into the dining-room together, one to be ministered to, the other to minister.

Here the boys joined them; but for a wonder their mother was silent respecting her visit to the lawyer, and soon went away to write to Colonel Ormonde, on whom she had conferred, unasked, the office of prime counsellor and referee. This opened up a splendid field for letters full of flattering appeals to his wisdom and judgment, and touching little confessions of her own weakness, folly, and need for guidance.

"DEAR MISS LIDDELL,--I should be glad if you could call on Tuesday next about one o'clock. I have various doc.u.ments to show you, or I should not give you the trouble to come here. If Mrs. Liddell is disengaged and could come also it would be well. I am yours faithfully, A. NEWTON."

Such was the letter which the first post brought to Katherine about six weeks after the death of John Liddell.

Katherine, who always rose and dressed first, found it on the table when she went down to give the boys their breakfast, to coax the fire to burn brightly if it was inclined to be sulky, and to make the coffee for her mother and Mrs. Fred.

As soon as she had seen the two little men at work on their bread and milk she flew back to her mother.

"Do read this! Do you think that Mr. Newton wants me because I am to have my uncle's money at last?"

"Yes, I do. There can be no other reason for his wishing to see you, dearest child. What a wonderful change it will make if this is the case!

I can then cease, to mourn the failure of my poor powers, and let the publishers go free. My love, I did not think anything could affect you so much. You are white and trembling."