The Career of Katherine Bush Part 34

She would start in a rough, short suit, and a pair of thick boots, with a serviceable walking-stick, and would tramp for miles carrying a basket, in which were sweets and medicines. She was worshipped by her people, arrogant, commanding, kindly great lady!

On one of these occasions they had the motor to meet them at the end of the home village, and drove six or seven miles to another in her outlying property.

She was very gracious as they went along.

"What books have you been reading lately, girl? If they are the Chesterfield Letters I think I may tell you that you have profited by them. Your manners generally are greatly improved."

Katherine reddened with pleasure.

"I have read them over and over again. I have found them more instructive to me than any other book."

"In my young days they were considered highly immoral and pernicious, by most of the canting Victorian hypocrites--when, of course, everyone of the world knew that Chesterfield's advice on all points was the most sensible and sagacious that could be given--but hypocrisy had risen to a colossal height in the sixties and seventies."

"I suppose so."

"Nowadays not one person in ten thousand reads them, more's the pity. If the young men with their great personal beauty--which sport and suitable feeding have produced--could have been brought up to understand the advantage of cultivating 'the graces,' what G.o.dlike creatures they would be!"

Katherine thought of Lord Algy; he must have done so unconsciously, she felt.

"People are so apt to judge such a book upon the letter, not the spirit--naturally one must make allowances for the different customs and habits of the times; but the spirit of the advice adapted to modern requirements would make any man or woman into an eminent person if it was faithfully followed. I recommend it to you strongly, since I believe you are steadily trying to educate yourself, Miss Bush."

"I am, indeed--I hope I am not overconfident in believing that if one probes the meaning of everything, and can see the faults in oneself, including those of instinct, it is possible to do, by will, what only the evolution of centuries accomplishes by natural process. The Chesterfield Letters have encouraged me in my belief."

"Of course, it is possible, but people will hardly ever face the truth, and would not dream of examining their own instincts; it would wound their self-love; they would rather be mediocre and blinded to their stupidities, than teach themselves any useful lesson. Your determined effort interests me deeply, child."

Katherine turned a radiant face of grat.i.tude; this was praise indeed!

"I will do all I can to merit Your Ladyship's goodness to me."

"No, I am not good--I have no altruistic or humanitarian proclivities--I would not bother with you for five minutes if you were not so intelligent that I have grown to take a kind of pride in you."

"I can't say how I appreciate Your Ladyship's kindness."

Lady Garribardine turned and looked at her for a second, and then she said slowly:

"I am going to ask you a question not strictly justifiable--and you need not answer it if you would rather not--but you may have formed some opinion of my integrity in these months, which will perhaps allow you to be frank with me--Did my nephew, Gerard Strobridge, make violent love to you when he spent Christmas with us? It seemed to me at the time, and afterwards, that he grew considerably depressed."

Katherine felt a twinge of distress.

"Mr. Strobridge showed some interest in me which I felt it wiser to discourage--He was very kind to me though, and agreed to be my friend, and sent me some books."

For a second, Lady Garribardine felt irritated. Her precious Gerard to have been a suppliant to this dependent in her house!--And then the broad justice of her nature regained its mastery; the girl was worthy of the homage of a king.

"I think he must have been extremely hard hit--I am quite devoted to him, as you know. I rely upon you not to hurt him more than you can help, when he comes back."

"I never wished to hurt him at all--I did wish to talk to him, though, because he is so clever, so at first I was glad to attract his attention. I know now that that was wrong."

Lady Garribardine looked at her secretary critically. She was astonished at this frank avowal which she realised not another woman in a million in Katherine's situation would have made.

"You deliberately attracted him then, girl, eh?----" her voice was stern.

"Yes--on the afternoon he first spoke to me when we typed the charity papers. I was so anxious to learn about books and art, and before that he had not noticed me at all."

"You did not calculate that it might hurt him?"

Lady Garribardine wondered at herself that she did not feel angry.

"No. I never thought about that--he seemed older and of the world, and able to take care of himself, and he was married."

"None of which things ever saved a man when Eve offered the apple--I suppose I ought to be very annoyed with you, child--but I believe it has done him good; he wanted rousing, he is, as you say, so clever.

"He could have done brilliantly, but he is lacking in perseverance--If he had married a woman like you, he would have risen to great things.

The finest gift of G.o.d is an indomitable purpose _to do_. My nephew drifted, I fear."

Then their talk branched off to other things, and this proud old aristocrat, having made up her mind now once for all that Katherine possessed a character and qualities after her own heart, she from this day treated her as an equal and a valued companion whenever they were not in actual relation of employer and secretary; when in that, she would always resume her original aloof manner of one in command.

Katherine delighted in this _nuance_, and appreciated the subtle tribute to her own sense of the fitness of things, and never once took the ell when she was given the inch, showing in this the immeasurable distance she had risen above her cla.s.s.

And so Easter came, and with it a large party--and Gerard Strobridge. At first sight, he did not appear at all changed. Katherine saw him from the window of the schoolroom just at sunset on the Thursday afternoon, when the guests arrived. He was walking in the rose garden with a tall, beautiful woman. The lowering globe of fire was making a blaze of reflected light from striking the row of mullioned windows of the picture gallery on the opposite side, and the flower-beds were a ma.s.s of daffodils and hyacinths. It was a nice background. He looked up, so Katherine saw his face plainly--then she stepped behind the curtain and the pair went on.

She felt very glad to see him, and wondered when they would meet. At these huge parties she never came down, even to pour out the tea if Her Ladyship's hand ached, as at the smaller family Christmas one. So unless he made the chance deliberately, it was quite possible no words would be exchanged.

This uncertainty added to the interest, and made her decide when Sunday should come to take especial pains with her appearance for church--Under Gladys' direction, she would be most simply and charmingly garbed, in a new blue serge suit, and becoming black hat. Before Sat.u.r.day when they actually met, however, she had seen Gerard twice, once from the gallery as she was leaving Lady Garribardine's sitting-room, and he was talking to the same beautiful lady in the hall--and once from her window when he paced the rose garden alone.

Katherine was familiar with the names and characteristics of all the guests, for had she not written their invitations and read their answers? Did she not type the cards which slipped into the little plates on their doors, and those for their places at dinner?--And on Sat.u.r.day night a message came for her that she was to print two more, and go immediately to Bronson with a fresh arrangement of the table, as two extra men were going to turn up by motor at the last moment, guardsmen quartered at Windsor.

She was coming from the dining-room down the pa.s.sage which led to her staircase, and also the smoking-room, when Gerard emerged from there, and met her at the foot of the stairs.

He put out his hand with cordial friendliness, while he cried gaily:

"At last I can greet you!--I would not go to dress on purpose, because I saw you rush down the pa.s.sage, and I knew you would have to come back--It is good to see you again!"

She answered suitably and would have pa.s.sed on, only he barred the way.

"I thought you were going to let me be a friend," he said reproachfully, "and here you snub me at once and want to run away."

"No--but you will be late."

"I care not a jot!--When can I possibly see you to-morrow?"

His eyes began to grow hungry; he was taking in the subtle improvement in her--which had happened even in these few months. His interest in her had not diminished, he discovered, much as he had hoped that he had crushed it to within bounds.

"I cannot say--in church, I suppose."

"That is small comfort! May I not come up the stairs just for half an hour before lunch?"

"Yes, if you find it possible--remember, I trust you not to do anything unwise."

"I promise--if you prefer it, I will ask my aunt's permission."