A Crooked Path Part 71

Isn't Angela Bradley handsome? She is a very remarkable girl, or perhaps I ought to say woman. She speaks four or five languages, and plays divinely; then she is a capital critic. It was she who advised her father to publish that very singular book, _The Gorgon's Head_; every publisher in London had refused it. He took it, and has cleared--oh, I'd be afraid to say how much money by it."

"I hope the writer got a fair share," said Katherine, smiling.

"Hum! ah, that's another matter; but I dare say Bradley will treat him quite as fairly as any one else. She will have a big fortune one of these days. Her father perfectly adores her."

"I wish I could write," said Katherine, with a sigh. "It must be a charming way to earn money."

"Why don't you try? You seem to me to have plenty of brains; and I suppose you will have to do something. I was so sorry--" Mrs. Needham was beginning, when dinner was announced, and her sympathetic utterances were cut short.

The repast was admirable, erring perhaps on the side of plenteousness, and well served by two smart young women in black, with pink ribbons in their caps. Nor was there any lack of bright talk a good deal beyond the average. Miss Bradley was an admirable listener, and often by well-put questions or suggestions kept the ball rolling. Dinner was soon over, and coffee was served in the drawing-room.

"Now, Miss Payne, I should like to consult with you," said Miss Bradley, putting her cup on the mantel-piece, and resuming her seat on the sofa, where she invited Miss Payne by a gesture to sit beside her, "about the daughter of an old friend of mine, who does not want her to join him in India, as she is rather delicate, and he cannot retire for a couple of years. It is time she left school, and the question is, where shall she go?"

While Miss Bradley thus attacked the subject uppermost in her mind, Mrs.

Needham settled herself in an arm-chair as far as she could from the speakers, and asked Katherine to sit down beside her.

"Let them discuss their business without us," she said, "and I want to talk to you. Here, these are some rather interesting photographs. They are all actors or singers on this side; you'll observe the shape of the heads, the contour generally; these are politicians, and have quite a different aspect. Remarkable, isn't it? But I was just saying when we went down to dinner that I was awfully sorry to hear of all your troubles--of course we must not regret that the man is alive; though if he is a cross-grained creature, as he seems to be, life won't be much good to him--and I shall be greatly interested if you care to tell me what your plans are."

"I really have none. There are several things I could do pretty well. I could teach music and languages, but it is so difficult to find pupils.

Then I am still in great uncertainty as to what my cousin may do."

"He is a greedy savage," said Mrs. Needham, emphatically; "but he will not dare to demand the arrears. He would raise a howl of execration by such conduct. Now, as you have nothing settled, and if Angela Bradley and Miss Payne make it up, you will have to leave where you are. Suppose you come to me?"

"To you? My dear Mrs. Needham, it would be delightful."

"Would it? It is not a very magnificent appointment, I a.s.sure you. You see, I have so much to do that I really _must_ have help. I had a girl for three or four months. I gave her twenty-five pounds a year, and thought she would be a great comfort, but she made a mess of my room and my papers, and could not write a decent letter; besides, she was discontented, so she left me, and I have been in a horrid muddle for the last fortnight. Now if you like to come to me, while you are looking out for something better, I am sure I shall be charmed, and will do all I can to push you. It's a miserable sort of engagement, but there it is; only I'll want you to come as soon as you can, for there are heaps to do."

"Indeed I am delighted to be your help, or secretary, or whatever you choose to call me, and as for looking for something better, if I can only save enough to provide for the boys, I would rather work with you for twenty-five pounds a year than any one else for--"

"For five hundred?" put in Mrs. Needham, with an indulgent smile, as she paused.

"No, no. Five hundred a year is not to be lightly rejected," returned Katherine, laughing. "But as I greatly doubt that I could ever be worth five hundred a year to any one, I gladly accept twenty-five."

"Remember, I do not expect you to stay an hour after you find something better. Now do me tell how matters stand with you."

Katherine therefore unbosomed herself, and among other things told how well and faithfully Rachel Trant had behaved toward her, of the fatherly kindness shown her by her old lawyer, and wound up by declaring that the world could not be so bad a place as it is reckoned, seeing that in her reverse of fortune she had found so much consideration. "Of course," she concluded, "there are heaps of people who, once I drop from the ranks of those who can enjoy and spend, will forget my existence; but I have no right to expect more. They only want playfellows, not friends, and ask no more than they give."

"Quite true, my young philosopher. Tell me, can you come on Sat.u.r.day--come to stay?"

"I fear not. Besides I have a superst.i.tion about entering on a new abode on Sat.u.r.day. Don't laugh! But I will come to-morrow, if you like, and write and copy for you. I will come each day till Monday next, and so help you to clear up."

"That is a good child! I wish I could make it worth your while to stay; but we don't know what silver lining is behind the dark clouds of the present."

Katherine shook her head. Mrs. Needham's suggestion showed her that peace and a relieved conscience was the highest degree of silvery brightness she antic.i.p.ated in the future. One thing alone could restore to her the joyousness of her early days, and that was far away out of her reach.

"Mr. Errington and Mr. Payne," said one of the smart servants, throwing open the door.

"Ah, yes! Mr. Errington, _of_ course," exclaimed Mrs. Needham, under her breath. "I might have expected him. And you too, Mr. Payne?" she added aloud. "Very glad to see you both."

As soon as they had paid their respects to the hostess, Errington spoke to Katherine, while Payne remained talking with Mrs. Needham.

"I am glad to see you looking better than when we last spoke together,"

said Errington, pausing beside Katherine's chair. "Have you had any communication from Newton yet?"

"I have heard nothing from him, and feel very anxious to know George Liddell's decision. I had a note from Mrs. Ormonde, written in a much more friendly spirit than I had expected, but still in despair. She, with the Colonel, had been to demand explanations from Mr. Newton, and do not seem much cheered by the interview."

"No doubt the appearance of your cousin was a tremendous blow, but they have no right to complain."

"However that may be, I will not quarrel with the boys' mother, in spite of her unkindness. I fear so much to create any barrier between us."

"Those children are very dear to you," said Errington, looking down on her with a soft expression and lingering glance.

"They are. I don't suppose you could understand how dear."

"Why? Do you think me incapable of human affection?" asked Errington, smiling.

"No, certainly not; only I imagine justice is more natural to you than love, though you can be generous, as I know."

Errington did not answer. He stood still, as if some new train of thought had been suddenly suggested to him, and Katherine waited serenely for his next words, when Miss Bradley, who had not interrupted her conversation, or noticed the new-comers in any way, suddenly turned her face toward them, and said, with something like command, "Mr.

Errington!"

Errington immediately obeyed. Katherine watched them speaking together for some minutes with a curious sense of discomfort and dissatisfaction.

Miss Bradley's face looked softer and brighter, and a sort of animation came into her gestures, slight and dignified though they were. They seemed to have much to say, and said it with a certain amount of well-bred familiarity. Yes, they were evidently friends; very naturally.

How happy she was to be thus free from any painful consciousness in his presence! She was as stainless as himself, could look fearlessly in his eyes and a.s.sert herself, while she (Katherine) could only crouch in profoundest humility, and gratefully gather what crumbs of kindness and notice he let fall for her benefit. It was quite pitiable to be easily disturbed by such insignificant circ.u.mstances. How pitiably weak she was! So, with an effort, she turned her attention to Mrs. Needham and Bertie, who had slipped into an argument, as they often did, respecting the best and most effective method of dealing with the poor. In this Katherine joined with somewhat languid interest, quite aware that Errington and Miss Bradley grew more and more absorbed in their conversation, till Miss Payne, feeling herself _de trop_, left her place to speak with Mrs. Needham, while Katherine and Bertie gradually dropped into silence.

"Miss Bradley's carriage," was soon announced, and she rose tall and stately, nearly as tall as Errington.

"Will you excuse me for running away so soon, dear Mrs. Needham?" she said, "but I promised Mrs. Julian Starner to go to her musical party to-night. I am to play the opening piece of the second part, so I dare not stay longer. You are going?"--to Errington, who bowed a.s.sent. "Then I can give you a seat in my brougham," she continued, with calm, a.s.sured serenity.

"Thank you," and Errington, turning to Katherine, said quickly: "Will you let me know when you hear from Newton? I am most anxious as regards Liddell's decision."

"I will, certainly. Good-night." She put her hand into his, and felt in some occult manner comfort by the gentle pressure with which he held it for half a moment. Yes, beaten, defeated, punished as she was, he felt for her with a n.o.ble compa.s.sion. Ought not that to be enough?

"Good-night, Miss Liddell. I hope you will come and see me. I am always at home on Tuesday afternoons; and Miss Payne, when I have seen the grandmother of the girl we have been speaking about, I will let you know, and you will kindly take into consideration the points I mentioned. Good-night." And she swept away, leaning on Errington's arm.

"Now that we are by ourselves," said Mrs. Needham, comfortably, "I must tell you what I have been proposing to Miss Liddell. I should like you to know all about it," and she plunged into the subject. "I know it is but a poor offer," she concluded; "but for the present it is better than nothing, and she can be on the lookout for something else."

Bertie wisely held his tongue. Katherine declared herself ready and willing to accept the offer, and Miss Payne, with resolute candor, declared that the remuneration was miserable, but that it was as well to be doing something while waiting for a better appointment.

Poor Katherine was terribly distressed by this frankness, but Mrs.

Needham was quite unmoved. She said she saw the force of what Miss Payne said, but there it was, and it remained with Miss Liddell to take or leave what she suggested.

Then Miss Payne's prospects came under discussion, and the doubtful circ.u.mstances connected with Miss Bradley's proposition.

"Now it is long past ten o'clock, and we must say good-night," remarked Miss Payne. "Really, Mrs. Needham, you are a wonderful woman! You have nearly 'placed' us both. How earnestly I hope there are better and brighter days before my young friend, whom I shall miss very much!"

"That I am quite sure. Well, she can go and see you as often as you like. Now tell me, isn't Angela Bradley a splendid creature?"

"She is indeed," murmured Katherine.