A Crooked Path Part 50

"Thank you," returned Katherine, gravely.

"And Mr. Payne, how does he like Mr. De Burgh's visits here?"

"I don't think he minds"--seriously. "I should be sorry if he were annoyed. I am very fond of Bertie Payne."

This declaration somewhat bewildered Mrs. Ormonde. But before she could find suitable words to reply, Charlie came running to meet them, jumping up to kiss his aunt first, and cried; "Mr. De Burgh has come. I saw him driving up to the hotel outside the omlibus."

"The omnibus!" repeated Mrs. Ormonde.

"He would find no other conveyance from the train unless he ordered one previously," said Katherine, laughing.

"Dear me! I suppose he will be here directly. How early he must have started!" in a tone of annoyance. "I feel so hot and uncomfortable after this dreadfully long walk, I _must_ change my dress before I see any one." And she hastened on.

After holding his aunt's hand for a while, Charlie darted away to overtake Francois, whom he perceived at a little distance.

"I declare, Katherine, you are quite supplanting me with those boys!"

exclaimed their mother, querulously.

"Ada, I would not for the world wean them from you, if--I mean"--stopping the words which rushed to her lips. "I should be sorry.

But you have new ties--another boy. Could you not spare Cis and Charlie to me--for I have no one?"

"I am sure that is your own fault. However, if after three or four months' experience you are not tired of them, I shall be very much surprised."

On reaching the house, Mrs. Ormonde went straight to her own apartment to "refit," and Katherine sat down in the smaller drawing or morning room, which looked west and was cool. She had not been there many minutes before De Burgh was announced.

"Alone!" he exclaimed. "Where is Mrs. Ormonde?"

"She will be here immediately."

"Has she persuaded you to return with her? I wish you would. Lady G---- gives a dinner at Richmond on Thursday; it will be rather amusing. I know most of the fellows who are going, and I think you would enjoy it.

You like good talkers, I know."

"Thank you; I have refused."

"Absolutely?"

"Absolutely."

De Burgh came over and leaned his shoulder against the side of the window opposite to where Katherine sat.

"What are you thinking of, if I may ask, Miss Liddell?" he said. "You have scarcely heard what I said. They are not pleasant thoughts, I fancy."

"No," she returned, glad to put them into words that she might exorcise them. "Ada has just reproached me with supplanting her with her boys, and it made me feel, as Americans say 'bad.'"

"Why?" he asked. "Why should you not? I would lay long odds that you love them more than she does. You are more a real mother to them. Why are you always straining at gnats? You really lose a lot of time, which might be more agreeably occupied, worrying over the rights and wrongs of things. Follow my example: go straight ahead for whatever you desire, provided it's not robbery, and let things balance themselves."

"Has that system made you supremely happy?"

"Happy! Oh, that is a big word. I have had some splendid spurts of enjoyment; and now I have an object to win. It will give me a lot of trouble; it's the heaviest stake I ever played for; but it will go hard with me if I don't succeed."

De Burgh had been looking out at the stretch of water before him as he spoke, but at his last words his eyes sought Katherine's with a look she could not misunderstand. She s.h.i.+vered slightly, an odd pa.s.sing sense of fear chilling her for a moment as she turned to lay her hat upon the table near, saying, in a cold, collected tone.

"You must always remember that the firmest resolution cannot insure success."

"It goes a long way toward it, however," he replied.

"Ah, there is Cis!" cried Katherine, glad to turn the conversation, "come back from school. Are you not earlier than usual, Cis?"--as the boy came bounding over the gra.s.s to the open window.

"No, auntie; it is one o'clock."

"Well, young man," said De Burgh, who was not sorry to be interrupted, as he felt he was treading dangerous ground, and with instinctive tact endeavored always to keep friends with Katherine's pets, "I have brought you a present, if auntie will allow you to keep it."

"What is it?--a box of tools, real tools? I do so want a box of tools!

But auntie is afraid I will cut myself."

"No; it's a St. Bernard puppy that promises to turn out a fine dog."

"Oh, thank you! thank you! that _is_ nice. I don't think you are a bit like the wicked uncle now. May I go and fetch it now, this moment?"

"Not till after dinner, dear."

"Oh, isn't it jolly! A real St. Bernard dog!"--capering about. "You _are_ a nice man!"

"What _are_ you making such a noise for, Cis?" exclaimed his mother coming in, looking admirably well, fresh, becomingly dressed. "Go away, dear, and be made tidy for your dinner. Well, Mr. De Burgh, I never dreamed of your arriving so early. Did you get up in the middle of the night?"

"Not exactly. The fact is, I must drive over to Revelstoke late this evening and catch the mail train. I have a command to dine with the Baron to-morrow, to talk over some business of importance, and dared not refuse, as you can imagine. The everlasting old tyrant has been quite amiable to me of late."

"Then you'll not be here to escort me back to town, and I hate travelling alone!" cried Mrs. Ormonde.

"Unfortunately no," said De Burgh. "But I have a piece of news for you that will freeze the marrow in your bones: Errington is completely ruined."

"Impossible!" cried both his hearers at once.

"It's too true, I a.s.sure you. When, after the old man's death, he began to look into things with his solicitor, he was startled to find certain deficiencies. Then the head clerk, the manager, who had everything in his hands--bossed the show, in short--disappeared, and on further examination it proved that the whole concern was a mere sh.e.l.l, out of which this scoundrel had sucked the capital. There was an awful amount of debt to other houses, several of which would have come down, and ruined the unfortunates connected with them, if Errington had not come forward and sacrificed almost all he possessed to retrieve the credit of his name. He says he ought to have undertaken the risks as well as reaped the profit of the concern. Garston Hall is advertised for sale; so is the house in Berkley Square; his stud is brought to the hammer--everything is given up. What he'll do I haven't an idea. But I must say I think his sense of honor is a little overstrained."

"And Lady Alice!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Katherine.

"Of course Melford will soon settle that, if it is not settled already, for a good deal was done before the matter got wind. There hasn't been such a crash for a long time. In short, Errington is utterly, completely ruined."

"I never heard of such a fool!" cried Mrs. Ormonde. "It was bad enough to be disappointed of the wealth old Errington was supposed to have left behind him, but to give up everything! Why, he is only fit for a lunatic asylum. What an awful disappointment for poor Lady Alice!"

Katherine did not, could not speak. The rush of sorrow for the heavy blow which had fallen on the man she had robbed, the shame and self-reproach, which had been lulled asleep for a while, which now woke up with renewed power to torment and irritate--these were too much for her self-control, and while Mrs. Ormonde and De Burgh eagerly discussed the catastrophe, she kept silence and struggled to be composed.

CHAPTER XIX.