Niece Catherine Part 5

'I must take you to Agatha now; the poor little maid will be wearying for you.'

So Catherine was led out of the tiny parlour, across the hall of this doll's house of a cottage, past the open door of the kitchen, where old Harriet and Robert were waiting to catch a glimpse of her as she pa.s.sed, and into another room as wee as the parlour, where bright pictures, pink curtains and upholstery generally, and the presence of flowers, betokened the colonel's fatherly care for his adopted ward.

CHAPTER IV

Catherine's Resolution

Agatha had been an invalid all her short life. Suffering had made her fretful and terribly nervous, especially of death, which she always imagined to be coming soon to her. She was not at all resigned to her lot, nor anxious to learn resignation, unless to escape the punishment that she feared must be the result of rebellion.

A more unhappy, self-tormenting child could scarcely exist.

Directly Catherine caught sight of the piteous-looking countenance, with its great dark pa.s.sionate eyes, her heart went out to Agatha.

The little girl was lying flat on a wheel-couch before the fire, with her face turned away from the warmth, towards the door of the room.

There were tears on her cheeks; she had been indulging in a stormy fit of crying because she had been, as the colonel had surmised, wearying for the coming of Catherine.

'You might have come to me sooner!'

These were her first words.

Bending to kiss her--a greeting that was warmly returned--Catherine answered:

'It is such a long while since I saw Uncle Jack that it was excusable for us to have a great deal to say to one another, wasn't it? Don't scold me on the very first evening of our acquaintance, Agatha, for you and I will be friends soon, I hope. It is very nice of you to be anxious to share your home with me, dear. I cannot come to live here, but I shall pay you frequent visits, and spend my holidays with you both.'

'You won't come altogether?'

'I cannot give up my work.'

Agatha laughed bitterly, and shrugged her shoulders with the gesture of a spoiled child.

'I suppose you're afraid of offending our enemy! Guardian, don't look cross with me because I said that! He _is_ our enemy, if he isn't more willing to make up the quarrel than you say he is. Miss Carmichael, you'll be very silly if you don't take Uncle Ross's side of the dispute, not ours! Being poor, and living in a tiny cottage, and having to be economical, _is_ so horrid!'

The colonel showed no sign of being cross; there was only an expression of perplexity in the gaze he bent upon his ward.

'Now, dearie, do not try to shock Catherine--she will not understand, as I do, that you never mean one half the shocking things you say.'

'Oh, guardian, I can't be polite to her, just as though she were a stranger, for I'm much too glad she's come. Catherine, if you make Uncle Ross adopt you, I suppose you'll be cutting us out, spoiling any chances we may have, you know, but I don't mind that a bit, and you can see guardian doesn't. Will you promise _always_ to remember that? I _would_ like the quarrel to be made up, just so that we went back to Carm Hail to live, but that's all! I don't want any one to leave money to us, because----Oh, never mind about why. Only say you won't misunderstand when I grumble! I want _you_ most of all; if you'd come and live here, it wouldn't be as dull, and it's only the dulness that matters much.'

This extraordinary series of sentences was delivered in a jerky, half-shy, half-reckless fashion, and Agatha's glance remained fixed on Catherine's face.

Stroking the child's thin cheek, Miss Carmichael asked playfully:

'Don't you know that you would have to be still more economical if I came to live here, dear?'

To her amazement Agatha burst into tears.

'There! you will misunderstand me! I only mind economy because I'm miserable often, and dull, and frightened. Now you've forced me to tell the truth, and guardian's feelings will be hurt. Oh, I'm always doing wrong somehow!'

Catherine sat down on the edge of the couch, and laid her face on the tumbled ma.s.s of brown curls.

'You little goose! I was half in fun. I do believe that you want me to come; only I can't, so you must be content to have me sometimes.'

The sobs still continued.

Uncle Jack smiled wistfully at his niece, shook his head with a puzzled air, and stole out of the room, wisely thinking that the two girls, of ages so different, would arrive sooner at mutual understanding if they were left alone together.

Catherine refrained from asking for an explanation of the sobs, and presently Agatha raised a tear-strewn face out of the pillows, and nestling her cheek against her new friend's arm, said penitently:

'I'm sorry I'm such a little beast. My ideas are all in a muddle, so that it's impossible for me to make you understand what I mean. And I was trying to be diplomatic, and you've no notion how difficult that is when one's head is always aching!'

'Poor little woman! But why want to be diplomatic? Simplicity is true, n.o.ble and best. Your guardian has a simple heart.'

'I am going to _try_ to make you understand, Catherine!' cried Agatha resolutely. 'Ever since guardian adopted me I've heard praises of you--of your courage, and sincerity, and beauty, and talents--until you've become a sort of _ideal_ to me. Do you see?'

'A very poor basis to found an ideal upon!' laughed Catherine.

'I know all about your Australian life--how you found out when the stockman (Jock was his name, wasn't it?) was being cruel to the cattle, and you told your stepfather about him, in spite of his threats of revenge. I've made a map of the station, and guardian marked the paddock-fence where your pony threw you when you were a child, and you called to your mother that you were "all right," though your leg was broken! I know how you used to spend your time, working for poor people, and trying to make the awful rough men kinder to their wives and children--and teaching the children about G.o.d and reading the Bible to invalids. Oh, you're a very satisfactory ideal, I a.s.sure you!'

Catherine's face was one bright blush at this enthusiastic commendation.

She was about to protest against it, but Agatha went on eagerly:

'Don't contradict, please don't, for it's all true. I told you about it, so that you might leave off being surprised at my wanting you so much.

You _can't_ seem like a stranger. I made up my mind to love you, long before I guessed you'd come to England, so when your letter came this morning I went just wild with delight. Guardian said at once that you would live with us, and then I thought how beautiful life would be.

There was nothing but happiness in my mind until then.'

She paused, frowning at the consideration of what came afterwards.

'Go on, dear,' said Catherine encouragingly.

'Then I found out that my wishes were all in a muddle too. Living in a cottage _is_ so tedious! There's nothing to see, and nothing to do.

Guardian's out a great deal, busy over the volunteers, and there's no one but Robert to help Harriet, so he can't be spared often to wheel my chair. I do most dreadfully want to go back to Carm Hall to live, to have nice food, and pretty rooms, and money to buy presents, and--oh, and everything I used to have! Now, I suppose, you think me horrid and mean!'

'No, dearie.'

'Uncle Ross--I always called him that, you know--won't make the first advance, so the quarrel won't ever be made up unless guardian tries to do it. He would if he wasn't so proud, for he's very unhappy about being at war with a brother. You should just hear him pray about it every morning and night,--for we've family prayers now, with Harriet and Robert,--his voice often shakes, and on Uncle Ross's birthday the prayers are ever so long. At Christmas, and Easter, and any home-anniversary, he is just wretched, Catherine. Yet he is too proud to be persuaded to make any more advances.'

'Any _more_?' repeated Miss Carmichael, questioningly.

'Yes, he made lots at first. He used to write, until Uncle Ross refused to open any more letters; he sent congratulations to him on his birthday, until that message came back unread; he always spoke on Sundays in the churchyard, until once, when it was the anniversary of Loring's going away, and through a chance word the quarrel got as bad as ever again; and now Uncle Ross always pa.s.ses us by with a stiff bow. Oh, guardian is in the right, only he's unhappy, and Uncle Ross isn't.

Catherine, I scarcely know _what_ I want! that is the truth! I should hate for uncle to adopt you, because that would take you away from us; yet I almost began to hope that your coming would patch up the feud somehow. Can't you be peacemaker?'

'I will do everything in my power to promote peace, dear.'

'Yet by choosing this cottage for "home" you'll offend Uncle Ross bitterly. It'll be like Loring's choice all over again!--between Carm Hall and riches, and guardian and poverty. For it was his love for guardian that made Loring want to be a soldier. Dear Loring! He was always so good to me! Catherine, most people would call your choice dreadfully silly!'