A Crooked Path Part 41

"To be sure. Didn't you guess who she was?"

"Mr. De Burgh guessed a good deal, but he did not guess my ident.i.ty,"

said Katherine, handing her a cup of tea.

"What! Were you playing at cross questions and crooked answers?"

"Something of that sort," he returned, and changed the subject by asking if they had heard how Errington's father was.

"Better, I suppose, for Mr. Errington has returned. He met us when we were in Melford Woods."

"I dare say he met Alice and Miss Brereton, then," said Mrs. Ormonde; "they were riding in that direction."

"Lady Alice will be taken care of, then," said Katherine, and taking her hat she went away, seeing that Mrs. Ormonde was quite ready to absorb the conversation.

"So that is Katherine Liddell," said De Burgh, looking after her, regardless of Mrs. Ormonde's declaration that she was going to scold him.

"Yes. Is she not like what you expected?"

"Expected? I did not expect anything; but she isn't a bit like what you described."

"How so? Did I say too much?"

"Yes, a great deal too much, but the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, you talked as if she was a regular gus.h.i.+ng school-girl, ready to swallow any double-barrelled compliment one chose to offer, whereas she is a finely developed woman, by Jove! with brains too, or I am much mistaken. Why, my charming little friend, she is older in some ways than you are."

"Oh, nonsense. You need not flatter _me_."

"It's not flattery, it's--"

The arrival of the riding party with the addition of Errington prevented him from finis.h.i.+ng his sentence.

CHAPTER XVI.

HANDLING THE RIBBONS.

De Burgh was told off to take Katherine in to dinner that day and the next, and bestowed a good deal of his attention on her during the evening. He rather amused her, for he was a new type to her. The men she had met during her sojourn on the Continent were chiefly polished French and Italians, whose softness and respectful manner to women were perhaps exaggerated, and a sprinkling of diplomatic and dilettante Englishmen.

De Burgh's style was curiously--almost roughly--frank, yet there was an unmistakable air of distinction about him. He seemed not to think it worth while to take trouble about anything, yet he could talk well when by chance a topic interested him, Katherine would have been very dull had she not perceived that he was attracted by her. She was by no means so exalted a character as to be indifferent to his tribute; nevertheless she was half afraid of the cynical, outspoken, high-born Bohemian, who seemed to have small respect for people or opinions. She showed little of this feeling, however, having held her own with spirit in their various arguments, as, it need scarcely be said, they rarely agreed.

"What is this mysterious piece of work I see constantly in your hands?"

asked De Burgh, taking his place beside Katherine when the men came in after dinner a few days after his arrival.

"It is a black silk stocking for Cecil."

"One of the nephews, eh? So you are capable of knitting! It must be a dreary occupation."

"No; it becomes mechanical, and it is better than sitting with folded hands."

"I am not sure it is. I have great faith in natures that can take complete rest--men who can do nothing, absolutely nothing--and so create a reserve fund of fresh energy for the next hour of need. There is no strength in fidgety feverishness."

"There is not much feverishness in knitting," returned Katherine, beginning a new row.

"There is very little feverishness about _you_, yet you are not placid.

I am extending and verifying my original estimate of your character, you see."

"A most interesting occupation," said Katherine, carelessly.

"_Yes_, most interesting. I wish I had more frequent opportunities of studying it; but one never sees you all day. Where do you hide yourself?"

"I take long rambles with the children, and--" She paused.

"Does it amuse you to play nurse-maid?"

"Yes, at present. Then my nephews and I were playfellows long ago."

"I imagine it is a taste that will not last."

"Perhaps not."

"Miss Brereton and Lady Alice, with Errington and myself, are going to ride over to Melford Abbey to-morrow. You will, I hope, be of the party?"

"Thank you. I do not ride."

"It is rather refres.h.i.+ng to meet a young lady who is not horsy, but it is a loss to yourself not to ride."

"I dare say it is. Yet what one has never known cannot be a loss. I am sorry I was not accustomed to ride in my youth."

"It is not too late to learn, remote as that period must be," said De Burgh, smiling. "You are in the headquarters of hors.e.m.e.n and horsewomen at present. Appoint me your riding-master, and in a couple of months I shall be proud of my pupil."

"I am not particularly brave," she returned, "and the experiment would produce more pain than pleasure."

"Pain! nothing of the kind. I have a capital lady's horse, steady as a rock, splendid pacer, temper of an angel. He is quite at your service.

Let me telegraph for him, and begin your lessons the day after to-morrow." De Burgh raised himself from his lounging position, and leaned forward to urge his pleading more earnestly. "Let me persuade you. You will thank me hereafter."

"Thank you," said Katherine, shaking her head. "It is too late. I shall never learn how to ride, but I should like to know how to drive."

"There I can be of use to you too. You will want an instructor. Pray take me!"

The last words, spoken a little louder than the rest, caught Mrs.

Ormonde's ear as she was crossing the room, and she paused beside her sister-in-law to ask, "Take him for what?--for better or worse, Katherine?"

"Blundering little idiot!" thought De Burgh; while Katherine answered, with remarkable composure.