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 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 AMY HERBERT," " THE EXPERIENCE OF LIFE, 
 
 "READINGS TREPARATORY TO 
 
 CONFIRMATION," 
 
 Pitch thy behaviour low ; thy projects high." — Geouge IlETinruT. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GKEEN, AND LONGMANS. 
 
 1854. 
 
 [7'/te Avthoi- of this work notijies thiit she resciTcft tlr. r'Kjht of 
 translating if. ]
 
 LoNuoN : 
 
 A. and G. A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New -street-Square.
 
 v.l 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It has been the Writer's object, in the following 
 --^tale, to describe not so much what might or ought 
 
 i-to be, as what actually is. 
 ^ Questions constantly arise full of interest and im- 
 *^ portance, as to the best mode of meeting the neces- 
 J^^ sities of the poor, and the various needs of our 
 •— ' complex state of society. But they are full of great 
 - difficulty ; and until they are determined by com- 
 ^ petent authority, it would seem safer and wiser, for 
 women at least, to take advantage of the machinery 
 placed within their reach, than to criticise its de- 
 fects, and speculate upon the means of its improve- 
 ment. District societies may be less valuable than 
 sisterhoods. A clergyman and his wife may be able 
 to do less than clergymen living and working toge- 
 ther as one body. But these are not questions for 
 general consideration ; and if we wait till we are 
 able to decide them to our full satisfaction, the 
 opportunities of usefulness around us will have 
 escaped — never to be recalled. 
 
 It may be desirable to state, that the character 
 of Katharine Ashton, although in no way intended 
 to represent any particular individual^ was sug- 
 gested to the Writer by the circumstances of real 
 life. 
 
 June 1st, 1854.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Some thirty years ago there was to be seen at the 
 lower end of the principal street, in the market 
 
 town of Rilworth, in shire, a substantial, 
 
 brick, gable-ended house, standing back a little 
 from the pavement, with an iron railing before it, 
 and remarkable as being the only exception to the 
 rows of shops which lined each side of the road, 
 from the market place in the centre of the town to 
 the turnpike gate at its entrance. In other respects 
 the building was in no way peculiar ; it might have 
 been the residence of the lawyer^ or the doctor, or 
 the banker ; or the retired tradesman, contented with 
 a moderate competency, and liking better to enjoy 
 the society of his friends in the town than to live 
 apart in rural exclusiveness. And such, probably, 
 had been its original destination ; but at the time 
 to which reference has been made, the house was 
 appropriated to a different purpose, and those who 
 saw the troop of girls of all ages, from seven to 
 fifteen, issuing from it about five o'clock in the 
 evening, would at once have recognised the Gable 
 House as a school, though they might not liave 
 known that it was commonly honoured by the title 
 of the school, suggesting the idea that it was the 
 only school in the place. 
 
 VOL. T. B
 
 2 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 And such indeed it was, as regarded t(\e more 
 wealthy members of the little community of Ril- 
 worth, for the very obvious reason that no better 
 instruction was within reach. From time imme- 
 morial it had been the custom of the Rilworth 
 people to send their little girls to Miss Richardson's ; 
 some being glad to have their children taught 
 French, and music, and fine work, without much 
 expense ; and others, more ambitious, considering 
 that it was a good thing to have them well grounded 
 in reading, and writing, and arithmetic, and kept 
 out of the way when they were of a troublesome 
 age, and that a year or two afterwards at a finishing 
 school would do all that was needful to fit them 
 for general society. 
 
 To do Miss Richardson justice, she deserved the 
 confidence reposed in her. She was a lady by birth 
 and in feeling, not very well informed and only 
 moderately clever, but strictly conscientious and 
 impartial. If the children under her care did not 
 know as much as might have been wished, they at 
 least learnt correctly, and were made obedient and 
 reverent. A foundation was laid upon which a 
 good superstructure might be raised in after years. 
 So thought the clergyman, and the lawyer, and the 
 banker, and the brewer, and the coal merchant, 
 and the wealthy linendraper, and many other in- 
 fluential persons in Rilworth, if they thought at 
 all ; and laying aside the strict barriers of exclusive- 
 ness, they all agreed in sending their children, when 
 young, to Miss Richardson's. 
 
 Three little girls were standing on the school 
 steps. They were nearly of the same age, between 
 ten and eleven, dressed very much alike, each car- 
 rying a green baize bag, filled of course with books. 
 They seemed hurried at first ; probably they had the 
 fear of being late before them ; but the clock in the
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 3 
 
 churcli tower pointed at five minutes to nine, and 
 there were still some moments left for a little inno- 
 cent gossip. 
 
 " How you did run ! Jane," exclaimed the tallest 
 of the three children, tapping one of her com- 
 panions on the shoulder. The speaker was a bright- 
 eyed, black-haired, rosy-cheeked girl, who might 
 have been termed decidedly handsome, but it was 
 not a beauty which gave pleasure. There was an 
 absence of mind, — a certain flippancy of manner 
 which was repelling. " How you did run ! " she 
 repeated again ; " but Kate and I vowed we would 
 overtake you, and we did." " My aunt was rather 
 late for breakfast," replied Jane. " I should have 
 been ready in good time else ; at least, no, I should 
 not ; I had forgotten to sew a string on my bonnet 
 last night, and that kept me." " Such a fidget ! 
 did you ever hear anything like it, Kate ? Why 
 a pin does just as well as a string any day." " Not 
 for my aunt, Selina," said Jane with a smile, which 
 gave a singular brightness to a pale and rather 
 melancholy face, older in its expression than be- 
 longed rightly to its age. The words were ad- 
 dressed to Selina, but the smile was for Katharine, 
 and it was answered by another, less brilliant, yet 
 scarcely less attractive from the air of thought- 
 fulness which accompanied it. " I wonder which 
 is most right, — to be late for school or to fasten your 
 bonnet ribband with a pin," said Katharine. Jane 
 laughed. " Most wrong, you mean : I don't suppose 
 either of them is very wrong, but I like to do what 
 my aunt tells me." " And what Miss Richardson 
 tells you too, I suppose," exclaimed Selina: "run 
 in, do ; we shall all have forfeits if the bell rings." 
 She rushed into the house, almost pushing Jane 
 before her, and beckoning to Katharine to follow ; 
 but Katharine still lingered. She stood by the 
 B 2
 
 4 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 open door looking up the busy street. There wag 
 no mere curiosity in the gaze. It was practical, 
 earnest, searching, as if she would fain satisfy herself 
 in some great doubt or difficulty. "Yes, every 
 body is busy," she said to herself as she closed 
 the street door. '' Certainly, but please don't think 
 of them now, Kate. Hark! there is the bell," and 
 Jane Sinclair's gentle hand was laid upon her arm. 
 Katharine started, and hurried up the long passage 
 to the little hall, where the cloaks and bonnets of 
 the day-scholars were kept. '*^ Go in, Jane ; don't 
 wait for me, I must be late." " No, no, you need 
 not, there is always a minute's grace ; the names 
 are not being called over yet. Here, give me your 
 bonnet, and let me hang it up." Selina had taken 
 possession of the most convenient peg, and as she 
 hastened past them to the schoolroom, she pointed 
 to it, saying with a triumphant air, "First come, first 
 served." "Herself first, always," muttered Katha- 
 rine; but Jane made no remark, and only busied 
 herself with contriving a place for Katharine's shawl 
 upon an under peg in the corner. " The bell has 
 stopped ; go in, Kate, you will be just in time." 
 Katharine hastened through the green baize door 
 which opened into the school room ; her last glance 
 showed Jane half buried beneath a heap of shawls 
 and cloaks, which in her hurry she bad dis- 
 arranged. When the list was called over, a for- 
 feit mark was placed against the name of Jane 
 Sinclair. 
 
 The business of the morning began : lessons were 
 said, generally very correctly; — small portions of 
 Pinnock's Catechisms, columns of dictionary, and 
 multiplication tables. Selina, or, as she was commonly 
 called by her companions, Selly Fowler, ceased to be 
 triumphant then. She vras the lowest in the class 
 when the lessons were ended ; and as she went down
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 and down, slie cast a furtive glance upon Jane Sinclair, 
 quietly pre-eminent at the top, and upon Katha- 
 rine Ashton, who had risen three places, evidently 
 fearing their ridicule. She need not have feared. 
 Jane pitied her ; Katharine did not think about her ; 
 she was intent upon the lessons, not upon the indi- 
 viduals who were repeating them. There was the 
 same look of eager, almost troubled thought ; and at 
 times she gazed around, asking, it seemed, for help, 
 for explanation ; but it was a vain request — under- 
 stood by none, least of all by the even-minded, 
 plodding Miss Richardson, who was fulfilling to the 
 utmost what she felt to be her duty, whilst insisting 
 upon the lessons being repeated perfectly, exercis- 
 ing strict justice, and enforcing instantaneous obe- 
 dience. 
 
 "Jane Sinclair's forfeit has put her second in 
 the chance for the prize," was the murmur that 
 evening in the little ante-room, as the children were 
 putting on their bonnets and cloaks. No one seemed 
 glad, not even the tall, proud young lady, the daugh- 
 ter of the great brewer, who was by Jane's misfor- 
 tune jDlaced above her. " She was very sorry," she 
 said — " she would much rather they had been equal i 
 besides, it was such a stupid way of gaining a prize, 
 because some one else was late." "Better that way 
 than no way," exclaimed Selina, as she tossed Katha- 
 rine's bonnet to her across the ante-room. The 
 bonnet fell to the ground, for Katharine Ashton 
 was turning away to speak to Jane. " You must let 
 me tell Miss Richardson how it liappened, Jane ; it 
 would be too bad to lose the prize when this is your 
 last half; she will be sure to put you up again, for 
 it was all because you helped me." " No good to 
 trust to that Kate," said Jane, with a merry laugh ; 
 " but why trouble about it ? we can never help others 
 if we won't take a risk." Jane tied her bonnet with 
 B 3
 
 6 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 quiet unconcern, but there was a tear in Katharine 
 Ashton's daik eye, and she walked away without 
 uttering another word. 
 
 When the little school party, who went together 
 to the upper end of the High Street, separated, 
 Selina Fowler rushed like a whirlwind up the flight 
 of steps which led to the tall house with the bright 
 green door marked with the name of Mr. Robert 
 Fowler, surgeon and dentist. Katharine walked 
 slowly to the private entrance to Ashton's, the 
 large bookseller and stationer's ; and Jane pursued 
 her way a little beyond the town, to the row of 
 small houses standing in little gardens, one of which 
 was the residence of her maiden aunt, and, for the 
 present, her home. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 " Mother,'^ said Katharine Ashton, as she sat at 
 work in the parlour behind the shop, trying to make 
 the best use of tlie few remaining minutes of day- 
 light, " do you know I saw Miss Sinclair to-day, as 
 I went up street ? I think she must be going to 
 live here for good, she has been staying here so 
 long." 
 
 Eight years had passed since Katharine and 
 Jane were schoolfellows. Eight years will make 
 great changes in habits and feelings, but they are 
 more obvious to the spectators than to the individuals 
 concerned. It was as natural now for Katharine to 
 speak of Miss Sinclair as it had been once to talk of 
 Jane. " Mr. Fowler told your father, a month ago, 
 that Mrs. Sinclair had taken the house with the
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 7 
 
 green verandah, opposite St. Peter's," replied Mrs. 
 Ashton, without raising her eyes from the winter 
 dress she was diligently employed in altering. " She 
 was turning down towards St. Peter's when I saw 
 her," continued Katharine ; " I just caught one look 
 of her face. How she is altered ! — I should scarcely 
 have known her if Selina had not pointed her 
 out; I daresay she does not recollect me." A 
 half sigh escaped Katharine as she said this, but it 
 was not perceived by her mother. " Of course not, 
 Kate, any more than you would remember her. 
 Have you finished that seam yet ?" " Yes, nearly ; 
 but, mother, do you really think I am so changed?" 
 " Why, you are grown into a woman, child, and so 
 is Miss Sinclair ; and she has been away now — let 
 me see — eight years ; they staid here just twelve 
 months, I think, after she left the school." " Her 
 aunt. Miss Maurice, did — not Jane ; she was sent 
 away to some cousin, people said," replied Katha- 
 rine ; " and then after that we heard that Captain 
 Sinclair was dead, and that Mrs. Sinclair was re- 
 turned from India." " Ah, yes, I remember, — that 
 was some time ago;" and Mrs. Ashton, having 
 completed her task, carefully folded up her work, 
 and began to clear the table, saying, at the same 
 time, " Your father talked of wanting you to help 
 him look over Low^e's account this evening, Kate, so 
 we must have tea early." — "John promised to do 
 that," said Katharine, " but I suppose he won't be 
 in." — "He told me he should most likely go up to Mr. 
 Fowler's," replied Mrs. Ashton ; " it is very kind of 
 them to take so much notice of him." Katharine did 
 liot echo the feeling ; she worked on in silence — not 
 melancholy, but thoughtful silence; — for she was 
 not really altered. There was the change from the 
 round-faced, awkward child of eleven, to the intel- 
 ligent, keen-sighted, energetic girl of eighteen ;
 
 8 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 but the expression of the face was unaltered, and 
 so was the mind. 
 
 Katharine Ashton was often called pretty, but 
 that was not exactly the proper term to apply to her. 
 There were many girls of her apre in Rilworth with 
 much more regular features. Happily for her she 
 had never attracted notice as a child, and so she had 
 grown up without any thought whether she was 
 good-looking or not. Perhaps that constituted one 
 of her chief attractions. She never troubled herself 
 about what would be said of her ; she had no self- 
 consciousness ; and no one, therefore, was afraid of 
 wounding her vanity or giving offence. It was im- 
 possible not to be at ease with her, because she w^as 
 quite at ease with herself. " Kate Ashton is such a 
 very sensible, good-natured girl," was the general 
 remark of mothers who were anxious for their own 
 children, and therefore were always forming com- 
 parisons ; and Mrs. Ashton herself had never ad- 
 vanced beyond this opinion. She was not, indeed, 
 a person likely to wish Katharine to be anything 
 more. She was herself a farmer's daughter, educated 
 in the old times, when it was the custom for farmers' 
 wives and children to make butter and cheese them- 
 selves, instead of leaving the work to servants ; and 
 her chief idea of a woman's excellence consisted in 
 keeping regular accounts,working quickly and neatly, 
 and making good pies and puddings. She had sent 
 Katharine to Miss Richardson's, and she had allowed 
 her to learn a little French and music, but it Avas 
 sorely against her own judgment ; in fact, she had 
 only satisfied her conscience by considering that it 
 was what every one did now, and that, indeed, if Ka- 
 tharine did not go there, she could not go any where. 
 
 Mrs. Ashton was not as ambitious as her hus- 
 band, but she certainly had not as much temptation 
 to be so. He was a great man in his way. Rilworth
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 9 
 
 was a very central town, and he was the chief book- 
 seller and stationer in it. His shop was the common 
 meeting-place for parties who came in from the 
 country for a day's business. It was a charming 
 lounge for idlers ; for all the new publications were 
 to be seen there, to say nothing of a reading-room 
 attached to the shop, and a good circulating library. 
 No one ever thought of driving into Rilworth 
 Y/ithout making the excuse to call at Ashton's for 
 something, and no one ever went away without 
 feeling considerable cordiality towards the obliging, 
 deferential, smiling Mr. Ashton, who had a word of 
 interest for all his customers, and every species of 
 temptation for their taste or their needs, from the 
 smooth octavo in clear type and broad margin, des- 
 tined for the learned repose of the library, to the 
 little magazine in its yellow paper cover, pronounced 
 to be exactly suited for the servants' hall. 
 
 And Mr. Ashton was an important person also, 
 beyond the limits of his shop. He was a member 
 of the town council, and considered a great autho- 
 rity in all municipal questions. He was a charity 
 commissioner, a guardian of the poor ; his name 
 was one of the foremost on the sanitary committee, 
 the national school committee, fourth only in the 
 list of the patrons of the mendicity society ; above 
 all, he had for many successive years filled the office 
 of churchwarden, and had appropriated to himself a 
 splendid pew curtained and lined in the middle 
 aisle, exactly opposite the pulpit. 
 
 Mr. Ashton was of course a very busy man ; too 
 busy it may be thought for the success of his 
 shop. That might or might not be. People said, 
 that he was wealthy, and could afford it ; and 
 then he had an excellent foreman, — grave, subdued, 
 silent, always at his post. It was a very punctual, 
 well ordered shop ; and whilst this continued, no one
 
 10 KATHAKIXE ASHTOX 
 
 was inclined to inquire whether Mr. Ashton thought 
 it necessary thoroughly to fulfil the offices which he 
 undertook, or whether he was contented only with 
 the glory to be derived from them. Of his private 
 aifairs none beyond the circle of his immediate 
 friends in the same position of life as himself knew 
 any thing. Mrs. Ashton sat in the back parlour, and 
 made her own dresses and mended her husband's 
 shirts, and Katharine often worked nearly as hard as 
 the foreman in making out accounts, and was always 
 the person to assist in unpacking the London 
 parcels, but in the shop she was never seen. " I won't 
 have my daughter dancing about in the shop with 
 long curls and a furbelowed gown," was Mr. Ash- 
 ton's reply to a neighbour who once inquired why 
 he did not make Kate more useful. " Other people 
 would as soon fly as let their girls be at the beck 
 and call of every idle youngster, and why am I 
 not to be as careful of my Kate?" There might 
 have been some pride in Mr. Ashton's determi- 
 nation, but it was a safe and wise one. Katha- 
 rine Ashton seated at work in the back parlour, 
 had as much simple dignity of manner as the most 
 refined lady in the land. Almost too much to 
 please her mother, who declared she was not a bit 
 like other girls of her age, and people would think 
 she was set up if she kept so quiet ; but not too 
 much to please her father, who, from a more ex- 
 tensive knowledge of the world, felt instinctively 
 the value of his child's delicacy of mind, though 
 he only appreciated it as making her look, as he 
 said, like a lady. And this was all that was known 
 or thought of Katharine Ashton, that she was a 
 good, sensible, quiet girl ; possibly a little inclined 
 to be proud, but upon the whole very right-minded. 
 And was this all that was hidden beneath that 
 self-possessed manner, that quick, varying ex-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 11 
 
 pression of eye, that singular smile of inward 
 thoughtfulness ? 
 
 Katharine's history may be the best reply. 
 
 Tea was brought in by the maid-servant, and Mr. 
 Ashton was called in from the shop. He came in 
 with a smiling face, and stood rubbing his hands 
 over the fire. " Colonel Forbes will have a cold 
 drive home to-night : I can't say I envy him. Here, 
 Kate, give me my chair, and draw the table nearer." 
 *'Has Colonel Forbes bought that book of the 
 coloured birds ?" asked Mrs. Ashton. "All but: 
 he stickles a little at the price, but he will have it 
 by and by ; he says he shall call again to-morrow." 
 " Seven guineas is a large price to give for one 
 book," observed Katharine, who was seated opposite 
 to the fire, pouring out the tea. " Not when there 
 is a lady in the case, Kitty, my child," said Mr. 
 Ashton with a meaning smile. " Foolish things 
 you women make us do, — hey, wife ? isn't it so ? " 
 And he stooped down and gave his wife a hearty 
 kiss. " It is a good many years I hope since you 
 did any foolish thing for me, Mr. Ashton, if that's 
 what you mean," was the reply ; " but what are 
 you talking about ? what has Colonel Forbes to do 
 with a lady?" — "Why, not much in the present 
 tense we may suppose," said Mr. Ashton, who, 
 prided himself upon being rather a grammarian, 
 " but a good deal in the future. By the by, Kitty, 
 his intended is an old friend of yours. I think I 
 shall tell the Colonel so some day if he gets uppish 
 as he is inclined to do." — " A friend of mine, father," 
 said Katharine, " why, I never had any friend." — 
 " T thought you chits at school made friends with 
 every one," replied Mr. Ashton. "Didn't I use to 
 hear you talk of Jane Sinclair?" — "Oh! yes, Miss 
 Sinclair, — yes, I remember," and Katharine slightly 
 blushed ; " but I could not call her my friend
 
 12 KATHAllIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 exactly, she was only there three quarters of a year, 
 because her aunt was ill, and no one knew what to do 
 with her, and I have not seen her since." — " And she 
 is grown a fine lady now," said Mrs. Ashton ; " they 
 say, that Captain Sinclair had heaps of grand rela- 
 tions, who never did any thing for hira whilst 
 he was living ; but since his death some one has left 
 Miss Sinclair a tolerable fortune." — '' Oh ! that is the 
 reason then that they are going to live in that 
 large house," said Katharine. " I thought just now, 
 mother, when you told me of it, that they must be 
 rich ; but when Miss Sinclair lived with her aunt, 
 it was in a very poky way, — at least so Selina 
 said." — " Just like her, knowing every thing about 
 every body's afifairs," said Mr. Ashton. "Mrs. 
 Ashton, what do you say to your son John, taking 
 up so much with Miss Selly Fowler?" — "I think 
 iny son John must manage his own concerns," said 
 Mrs. Ashton. " He is only like all other young 
 men." — "But I don't think Selly would make him 
 a good wife," observed Katharine. " She is too grand 
 a great deal ; and I know Mr. Fowler thinks it 
 quite a condescension to ask John to the house." — 
 "Heigh!" exclaimed Mr. Ashton, with a whistle 
 of surprise, " condescension, indeed ! why his father 
 was a farmer like mine, and the girl has not a 
 penny. I wonder what he will say if it comes 
 to a question of settlements." — "Oh, father!" 
 exclaimed Katharine, " you don't mean that there 
 can be ever anything serious between John and 
 Selina."-" Why not, child ?"—" Why not?" Ka- 
 tharine's cheek became crimson with eagerness and 
 nervousness. " I don't know that I can tell exactly, 
 but I was at school with her." — " So much the 
 more reason for being her friend, I should think," 
 replied Mr. Ashton. — " Yes, if I liked her, and 
 thought she was worth anything. But, father,
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 13 
 
 John ought to marry some one who would put him 
 up in the world." — "Well, Kate," observed Mrs. 
 Ashton, "for that matter I don't know what John 
 could do better. Mrs. Fowler has a cousin a clerfry- 
 man, and they visit at Captain Store's and Mr. 
 Blagrave's, and I know at the hunt last year Mr. 
 Fowler was asked to dine at Sir John Keene's." 
 
 " But it is not sure that John will be asked 
 too," replied Katharine ; " besides, I don't think, 
 mother, you quite know what I mean, and X don't 
 think I can explain to you.'' 
 
 " And there is no time now," remarked Mr. 
 Ashton, " for here comes Master John himself." 
 
 The door was thrown open rather roughly, and 
 a young man_, about three-and-twenty years of age, 
 entered the room. He was good-looking ; more so 
 perhaps, strictly speaking, than his sister, whom he 
 strongly resembled ; but there was an air of slang 
 about him, which was very unpleasant when con- 
 trasted with Katharine's quiet simplicity. His 
 black curling hair had long been allowed to remain 
 uncut, and his whiskers were ferocious. He wore 
 a short, sportsman-like coat, and a blue cravat, 
 loosely tied, which displayed more of his brown 
 throat than was quite agreeable to the eye. A 
 strong scent of cigars accompanied him, so strong 
 that Mrs. Ashton's first exclamation was : " John, 
 don't bring any of those nasty smoking things in 
 here." — "Haven't got any, mother," replied John, 
 seizing the first chair at hand, and seating himself 
 at the table. "Kitty, give us a cup of tea."— "It 
 is rather cold, John, I am afraid." said Katharine ; 
 " wait a few minutes, and let me make the water 
 boil." She stirred the fire, and lifted the heavy tea- 
 kettle ; her brother not offering to help her, but 
 sitting with his right leg crossed over his knee, 
 humming a tune. " Well, John," said Mr. Ashton,
 
 14 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 " liow have you and Miss Selly been getting on 
 to-day?" — " Selly's a goose," replied John, rather 
 pettishly. — " And is this the first time you have 
 found that out, John dear ? " said Katharine, with 
 rather a malicious smile. " I can't think what makes 
 you girls so envious of one another/' exclaimed 
 John; " as soon as ever one of you has a civil woi-d 
 said to her, the others are all up in arms. Selly 
 may not have such a way of keeping accounts as 
 you have, Kate ; but she's never been bred up to 
 it ; as she said to me to-day, she's a lady ; and, as 
 I said to her, she's a handsome one. If you live to 
 be a hundred, Kate, you will never be half what 
 she is." — " I don't suppose I shall," said Katharine, 
 laughing ; " when people live to be a hundred, they 
 are generally not very remarkable for beauty. 
 However, John, I don't at all dispute Selina's good 
 looks, only,'' — she stopped, prudently, most likely, 
 — but the ostensible reason was because the water 
 in the tea-kettle was boiling over. '•' Now, let me 
 make you a bit of toast," she said, after pouring the 
 water into the teapot ; " there will be just time whilst 
 the tea is brewing." John seemed mollified by the 
 attention, and cut off the slice of bread himself 
 to save her the trouble, remarking, as he handed 
 it to her, that she was the best maker of toast in 
 Rilworth. The compliment, it is to be hoped, repaid 
 Katharine for the scorching heat of the fire before 
 which she knelt, as her brother certainly had little 
 mercy upon her ; his appetite for toast, especially 
 such toast as Katharine could make, was prodi- 
 gious. Mr. Ashton lingered in the room for some 
 time, half amused and half impatient ; but as John 
 applied himself to the third round, he exclaimed, 
 " Well, John, my boy, it is to be hoped that good 
 eating is good preparation for work : there is the 
 last London parcel to be unpacked and sorted to-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. lo 
 
 night ; and it's high time you should begin." — "Dick 
 Fowler and 1 are going to the lecture at the Insti- 
 tution," said John, carelessly. " Well ! that's half- 
 past seven," said his father. " and it is now a 
 quarter past six ; there will be plenty of time, if 
 you send oiF all this rubbish," — and he gave a push 
 to the tea-tray ; '^ Kate will read the invoice." 
 
 " I dare say I could do it all, if it was necessary," 
 said Katharine, good-humouredly ; " Susan will help 
 me unpack." — " That foreman of mine, Dawes, ought 
 to have been in to-night," said Mr. Ashton ; " but 
 he's engaged too, he tells me. I can't imagine what 
 all you young men are made of, to be thinking of 
 so many things besides your work." — '' Do you want 
 your accounts this evening, father?" said Katharine, 
 attempting to lift a large mahogany desk, which 
 stood on a table near the fireplace. Mr. Ashton 
 hesitated a little — " No ; I think not. I have 
 rather a notion, — did Dick Fowler say if his father 
 was going to the gas committee to-night, John ? " 
 — " He talked something about it, I did not exactly 
 understand what," answered John ; " but I know 
 Mr. Fowler is up about it, for Dick told me Colonel 
 Forbes was going to take a share." — "That reminds 
 me" — Mr. Ashton turned quickly to his daughter 
 — ''There's a set of books, which I promised the 
 Colonel should be sent over to him by the van to- 
 morrow early, so mind you put them up to-night, 
 Kitty ; I will show you which they are presently." 
 Mr. Ashton went into the shop. Mrs. Ashton 
 said she must fetch some more work ; and Ka- 
 tharine also lighted a candle, and was going 
 away, when her brother pulled her back, — " Stop, 
 Kate, I want to have five words with you." Ka- 
 tharine put down her candle, and went back to the 
 fireplace. " What do you mean by always putting 
 in such provoking words about Selly?" began
 
 16 KATHAPJXE ASHTOX. 
 
 Jolm. " Because I think them, I am afraid," re- 
 plied Kate, quickly ; '' you know, John, she really 
 is not worth your having except just for her pretty 
 face." — " And the connection," said John ; " you 
 forget that, Kitty. She is a peg above us any day." — 
 *' That is just what I doubt, John," said Katharine. 
 " My father thinks so, I know ; he never would 
 let you think of her else, because she has no money ; 
 but, somehow, I never can get out of my mind that 
 you, and I, and all of us, are worth quite as much 
 in the world as she is. That is pride, I dare say ; it is 
 wrong, too, I dare say. I wish I could be quite 
 sure though that it was," — and the dreamy, inward 
 look peculiar to Katharine's face, passed over it for 
 a moment. " I don't understand all that backwards 
 and forwards work, Kitty," replied John. " I only 
 know that Selly visits people who won't take any 
 notice of us ; and what's more, too, I know she 
 won't have anything to say to me whilst I stand 
 behind a counter, and that's what I want to talk to 
 you about." — "My dear John!" and Katharine, 
 looked distressed, for her quick mind had caught 
 in a moment a whole train of troubles consequent 
 upon this new idea. " Well ! my dear Kate ! " he 
 patted her shoulder, and with a hesitating laugh, 
 added, " why am I not to be a gentleman, if I can 
 be ? There's old Andrews means to give up business 
 soon, and be as grand as the grandest," — " AYhere is 
 the money to come from?" asked Katharine?" — 
 *' That is another question, and a sensible one," 
 observed John, approvingly. " You mustn't think 
 I've not thought of that, little Kitty."— "And wliat 
 are you going to do to make yourself a gentleman ? " 
 asked Kate, whilst a smile played upon her lips, which 
 was not quite flattering to her brother's self-love. "You 
 don't take to the notion I see, Kitty," he continued, 
 drawing up his head, " but what is to hinder me 
 from having a little business of my own ^ — a farm,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 17 
 
 we'll say. My father would let me have the money 
 to stock it ; and Selly and I might live to ourselves 
 quite quietly. Mr. Fowler wouldn't object to that 
 as he would to the shop." 
 
 The movement of Katharine's foot had betrayed 
 considerable impatience during this speech ; there 
 was a sparkle in her eye too, which indicated 
 something very like temper. John paused, but 
 heard no reply. " Well, Kate ! child ! what are 
 you thinking of?" — " I don't know ; 1 can't say, 
 John." — " Won't it do ?" John looked at her anxi- 
 ously ; he had more trust in her judgment than 
 he would have been willing to acknowledge. " It 
 might do if Selly was not in the question, and if 
 she wasn't, you would never have thought of it." 
 — " For pity's sake speak out, Kate ; how can one 
 make sense of such ins and outs?" Katharine's 
 quick glance was quieted now, and she said calmly, 
 " I would speak out, John, if I thought you would 
 understand me, or if I really understood myself. 
 I don't go with you, that you know ; I don't want 
 to be what you call a lady, or to see you what you 
 would think a gentleman. I would rather be myself, 
 and see you yourself; and I don't like Selly for 
 putting you up to being different. I think it is one 
 of her senseless notions, and I can't stand it, and it 
 makes me cross, and I wish you had never had any- 
 thing to do with her. So now perhaps I had better 
 not give any opinion about the farm." — " Oh jes, 
 speak up,'^ said John, a little sulkily. Katharine 
 still hesitated. " Well, if I must — I dare say I 
 don't know much about such things, — but it seems 
 to me that if people want to be farmers, they should 
 know something about farming ;" and again Katha- 
 rine's smile was a very little satirical. " They can 
 learn, I suppose," said John. " Yes ; but then if 
 a man takes a farm to learn upon, and finds he 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 can't learn, what is to become of him, when he has 
 married upon tlie chance of succeeding ? " — " That's 
 all nonsense, Kitty, every one must have a begin- 
 ning ; and Selly and I could live upon as little as 
 we chose." — "But don't you think, John," con- 
 tinued Katharine, " that it is a pity you did not take 
 to this farming rather earlier, if you are so bent 
 upon it ? What was the good of all the bookkeeping, 
 and summing, and reading you had at school, if 
 you are going now to give it all up ? " — " All that 
 is nothing to the point, Kate ; what I say is, that 
 I can't ask Selly Fowler to marry me if I am going 
 to stand behind a counter ; and so take a farm I 
 must, for there is nothing else to be done." Katha- 
 rine took refuge in silence. " And you don't 
 choose to talk to my father about it for me then ? " 
 said John. Katharine laughed ; she could not help it. 
 " Of course not, my dear John, what could make 
 you think I should ? " — " Why, because you are a 
 good-natured chit, and have helped me out of diffi- 
 culties before." — " There is no occasion to get into 
 this one," replied Katharine gravely ; " so if I 
 promised to help you beforehand, it would be 
 leading you in, not out. Seriously, John," she con- 
 tinued, — and she put her arm round his neck, and 
 looked into his face with a smile of arch but 
 winning sweetness, — " you must listen to reason 
 for one minute. What are you to do with a farm, 
 and what is Selly to do ? She can't make butter 
 and cheese." — "No, indeed, I should never wish her 
 to do so." — " Well, then," continued Katharine, 
 " if she can't she must pay some one who can, and 
 so she must keep farm servants and house servants, 
 and loads of people to help her, and who is to pay 
 for it all ? You can't do it, John, really you 
 can't. Selly is not the wife for you if you take a 
 farm, any more than if you keep a shop. You are
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 19 
 
 not like a person who can give her plenty of money 
 and let her sit idle all day. Your wife, John, 
 must work." — " She shan't though," said John im- 
 patiently. — " Then she must starve," replied Ka- 
 tharine, with a quick laugh ; ''have we not all been 
 brought up to work?" — "Yes, work as a gentleman, 
 — that I have no objection to," observed John ; " but 
 not behind a counter." — " And why not ? why are 
 not people just as good behind a counter as before 
 one?" asked Katharine. "It is so mean to care 
 about it, like being ashamed of one's relations. 
 You mustn't mind my saying so, John, but I can't 
 bear Selly for putting such notions into your head ; 
 and if I can't tell why they are wrong, yet I am 
 sure they are wrong, and mean, and low, and they 
 make me proud. They make me long to go and 
 stand in the shop myself, and show Selly that I am 
 not above doing what my father does, and what 
 my grandfather did before him." John turned 
 away. "I have been cross, John, I know. Please 
 forgive me. Don't go away without a kiss." Katha- 
 rine followed him to the door to stop him. John 
 looked at her kindly, even respectfully. " I can't 
 think as you do, Kate. I don't say it might not be 
 better if I did."—" You might be good for so much, 
 John, I am sure," continued Katharine, earnestly ; 
 " you were made to be good for a great deal : father 
 says so often, only," — she seemed very much afraid 
 of proceeding, but the expression of John's face was 
 softer and more thoughtful, — "only if you could be 
 one thing, what you are ; — not two things, trying to 
 be something else, or letting Selly persuade you 
 into trying. You might be like Charlie Ronaldson, 
 whom my father was praising so the other night, 
 if you would." — " What ! that solemn black -looking 
 prig, with his cropped hair and his books ; no, 
 defend me from that ! " — " I think the scissors would 
 c 2
 
 20 KATHAEIXE ASH TON. 
 
 do good though," said Katharine, playfully. '• Even 
 George Andrews does not wear his hair as long as 
 you do." — " By the by, George Andrews and all 
 his party are to be at the Institute to-night," ex- 
 claimed John; " why don't you come too, Kate?" 
 " The London parcel, and the invoice, and the 
 books for Colonel Forbes," was Katharine's reply. 
 John delayed, perhaps his conscience reproached 
 him for leaving her to work alone, but he did not 
 betray the feeling if he had it, and merely said, as 
 he went away, " It's one of Colonel Forbes' farms 
 that would just suit me." 
 
 Katharine began to unpack the parcel by herself. 
 It was cold work in a back room or rather closet, 
 without a fire, but she did not think of that, she 
 was too busy ; yet the business, upon the whole, 
 went on slowly ; her mind was not thoroughly 
 given to it. She thought of a great many things 
 whilst she was taking out books and putting aside 
 the sheets of brown paper in which they were 
 wrapped. Sometimes of her conversation with 
 John and her anxiety for him, and of Selina Fowder 
 and her foolish education and absurd fancies ; and 
 occasionally of more abstract subjects, but the latter 
 were more feelings than thoughts ; she scarcely 
 realised them to herself, only they gave her rather 
 a feeling of depression, as if there was something 
 in her kept down, imprisoned, as if there miglit be 
 some object or aim in life -which she ought to have 
 and had not. She did not exactly ask herself what 
 use there was in unpacking books, but she won- 
 dered what was the good of reading them, what 
 made the people write them, what made any one 
 do any thing in fact. Many of the books w^ere new 
 novels ; she looked into them and they amused her, 
 but it was an unsatisfactory peep, because she did 
 not venture to uncut the leaves. A few, however,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 21 
 
 were for the circulating library, and these she 
 seized upon with avidity, more for her mother than 
 herself. ]\Irs. Ashton was very fond of a novel 
 when it could be read out to her, and if they were 
 not both very much engaged in work, Katharine 
 often took one from the library to read aloud. She 
 could find a good deal of amusement in the books 
 generally, and she thought reading aloud a very 
 agreeable way of pleasing her motlier; but the 
 novels were just as perplexing as real life. People 
 fell in love, and after a good deal of fuss were 
 married at last, of course, like every one else ; but 
 afterwards they went on just as before, eating, and 
 drinking, and sleeping, and talking to the end— till 
 death. There was no difference that Katharine 
 could see in any rank. If the people she read of 
 were gentlemen and ladies, they lived in country 
 houses, and gave large parties, and the gentlemen 
 went out hunting and shooting, and the ladies 
 worked worsted work ; but there was no more use 
 in that, as far as Katharine could see, than there 
 was in her own employment, kneeling down upon 
 the floor in aback room, unpacking a parcel. She 
 could not wish to change with them, she did not 
 think it would make her happier — no, she was 
 useful where she wns, pleasing her father and 
 m.other, making her home cheerful. She ought to 
 be happy, and she was happy. Yet at the very 
 moment Katharine said this to herself, there was 
 a painful sense of nothingness, of want of interest 
 at her heart, which made her rush back to her 
 work in order that she might forget it. 
 
 The box was unpacked, the books were ranged in 
 order on the floor, ready to be carried into the shop 
 the next morning. Only Colonel Forbes' parcel 
 remained to be put up. Her father had left the list 
 of books in the parlour, and Katharine went in to 
 c 3
 
 22 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 
 
 fetch it. She found her mother sitting in the arm- 
 chair, having fallen asleep over her work. The 
 snuff of the mould candle had grown very tall, and 
 looked really alarming in its vicinity to the yards of 
 linen which lay upon the oil-cloth table cover. 
 Katharine's entrance woke Mrs. Ashton. She was 
 not very clear as to the hour, and, rubbing her eyes, 
 inquired in a drowsy voice if it was tea-time. " Bed- 
 time, you mean, mother," said Katharine ; " it is 
 pretty near ten — half-past nine, that is, — won't you 
 have supper ? " — " Better wait for your father ; he 
 said he shouldn't be late," replied Mrs. Ashton ; and she 
 sat up, and taking her spectacles, set to work again, 
 as diligently as if she had never left off. "Mother," 
 said Katharine, as she watched her, " I wish I could 
 go on stitching and sewing as you do ; I should get 
 dreadfully tired if I had as much to do." — "Wait 
 till you are as old as I am, Kitty, and then you 
 won't want to be fidgeting about ; when I was your 
 age I was not half as steady as you are now." — "They 
 are shirts, aren't they?" said Katharine, taking np 
 the work. " A set for John," replied Mrs. Ashton, 
 " and, by the time they are done, there will be a set 
 wanted for your father ; — plenty to do, isn't there, 
 Kitty ? " — "Plenty," replied Katharine, thoughtfully; 
 "but one shouldn't be happy, I suppose, without it." 
 — "No; of course not," replied Mrs. Ashton; "what 
 were we sent into the world for except to work ? 
 "Why, when I was a girl I was up at half-past four 
 as often as not, and about in the dairy, and looking 
 after all the farm people. ]\Iy mother never bred 
 me up to be an idle lady, any more than I have bred 
 you up, Kate; — a good, useful girl — that's what 
 your father and I always set our hearts upon your 
 being." — " I w^onder what Miss Sinclair is ?" said 
 Katharine, who was standing with her eyes fixed 
 upon the list of books for Colonel Forbes. " Miss
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 23 
 
 Sinclair, Kitty ! what on earth makes you think of 
 her?" — " Only that, I suppose, some of these books 
 are for her," observed Katharine, smiling; "they 
 don't seem to be much of a gentleman's choice." — 
 "Oh ! very likely; paying court," said Mrs. Ashton, 
 with a meaning nod ; " we shall see you having fine 
 things given you some of these days, Kitty." — " Per- 
 haps so," replied Katharine, in the tone of one who 
 scarcely knew that she was addressed. " Jane — 
 Miss Sinclair — was always given to reading and 
 learning lessons at Miss Richardson's,'' she added ; 
 "I suppose she is much the same now." — " She has 
 nothing else to do in the world," said Mrs. Ashton ; 
 "reading is very well for young ladies who have 
 plenty of servants to manage everything for them." 
 — " Jane Sinclair read when her aunt only kept one 
 servant," observed Katharine; "and she was going 
 to learn all kinds of things besides. 1 dare say she 
 can talk French quite well now." — " Well, Kate," 
 said Mrs. Ashton — perceiving, as she fancied, a 
 slight amount of discontent in her daughter's voice — 
 " and so can you talk French too. You asked that 
 old beggar, the other day, where he came from, 
 which was more, I am sure, than I could do." — " I 
 am afraid my French would not help me much if I 
 were to go to France," answered Katharine, good- 
 humouredly ; " but as I am likely to stay in England 
 all my life, I suppose it will not much signify. 
 Perhaps, mother, it was a pity we troubled about it 
 when I was at Miss Richardson's ; it is not likely to 
 be any good to me." — " Your father and I liked you 
 to learn what other girls learnt," said Mrs. Ashton ; 
 "and Matty Andrews thought so much about it — 
 that was what put us up to giving you a few months 
 of it."— "Matty is a fine lady," said Katharine; "I 
 suppose French is good for fine ladies. But, mother, 
 I don't want to be any thing but myself, — only, I 
 c 4
 
 24 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 should like to be the best of myself." Mrs. Ashton 
 stared at Katharine for a moment, through her 
 spectacles, and then her eyes went down again to 
 her work. The speech was mystifying, like others 
 which she occasionally heard. Katharine knew that 
 well. There is nothing we are sooner aware of 
 than the fact of not being understood ; and she 
 went hack into silence, or, rather, into a meditation 
 upon Colonel Forbes' list, and very soon after 
 returned to the back room to put up the parcel. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The large house with the green verandah, op- 
 posite St. Peter's church, was one of the bedt in 
 Rilworth. It was so good, indeed, that it liad long 
 remained unoccupied, because no one could afford to 
 take it; or, at least, the persons who could do so 
 did not choose to settle in a country tow^n. What 
 made Mrs. Sinclair fix upon it, was not supposed to 
 be known, though it was guessed at. The osten- 
 sible reason was, to please Jane, who had a re- 
 membrance of her childish days in the place, and 
 thought it would be pleasant to recall them. It 
 was an agreeable home, at any rate, for Mrs. Sinclair 
 for a time. The contrast between what her position 
 now was and what she had feared it would be 
 when left with only the pension of an officer's 
 widow, could not but be agreeable even to one who 
 had suftered so much, and was so thoroughly un- 
 worldly. It was a great comfort to feel that eco- 
 nomy was not always the first thing to be thought 
 of, that it was allowable to be lavish in charity and
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 25 
 
 hospitality. It was delightful to be able to en- 
 courage Jane's generous plans, and only check them 
 with consideration of prudence for others, not of 
 care for herself. Mrs. Sinclair was just the person 
 to enjoy this freedom and be thankful for it. Yet she 
 was not looking quite happy now ; she was grave, and 
 her glance at Jane, who sat in the library, writing 
 a long letter, was very anxious. Jane did not per- 
 ceive it ; she was too much engrossed in her occu- 
 pation. She also was looking grave, but it was a 
 very different gravity from her mother's ; it was 
 the thoughtfulness of one who was just beginning 
 to view life truly and seriously, who had probably 
 been newly awakened to a sense of its respon- 
 sibilities ; yet there was no anxiety in it, but 
 rather gladness and hope, and bright confidence. 
 Her pen moved rapidly. 
 
 " I am very happy," she wrote, "more happy than 
 I was two months ago. Everything was confusing 
 then, but now I am beginning to understand the 
 future, to feel how solemn and yet how full of joy 
 it is. At times I trouble myself with fears which 
 you would laugh at ; you have such trust in me, 
 so much more than I can have in myself. I must 
 one day tell you the history of my past life, not its 
 events (for they have been very few), but its feel- 
 ings. I shall think then that you will judge me 
 truly, and be better able to make allowance for me. 
 I never knew till now what an oppression the 
 weight of undeserved praise might be. But I try to 
 think that it is not praise from yoa but love, — and 
 then I can bear it better ; for I feel that I can 
 return it. I know that I can see no fault in you, 
 and so I can better bear that you should look blindly 
 upon me. Perhaps though, it would be better if 
 we could see each other truly. Have you any 
 faults ? I do try seriously to believe that you have
 
 26 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 Mamma tells me I must. She says, if I dream too 
 much now, there will some day be a sorrowful 
 wakening ; but I would rather dream, I must do 
 so, for I could not live without it, and I have no 
 fear. Come what may, one thing can never change 
 — our love." 
 
 So Jane vSinclair wrote two months after she had 
 consented to be the wife of Colonel Forbes, of 
 Maplestead. Nineteen was very young to be mar- 
 ried ; no wonder that Mrs. Sinclair looked anxious. 
 And Jane had known so little of her future 
 liusband ! Six months before they had been perfect 
 strangers ; three months before only intimate ac- 
 quaintances ! When Mrs. Sinclair looked back, she 
 could scarcely trace the steps by which the engage- 
 ment had been reached. She knew only that Jane 
 had been thrown more especially into the society of 
 Colonel Forbes at the house of a friend, when she 
 herself was compelled to be absent, in attendance 
 upon a dying relation, and that, on her return, the 
 offer was made openly and honourably, and accepted 
 timidly, but willingly. There could be no reason- 
 able objection. Colonel Forbes had character, 
 position, fortune, everything which in the eyes of 
 the world could render the connection desirable. 
 Jane said he had also deep-seated, sterling principle, 
 and her mother saw no reason to doubt it. Yet who 
 would not have trembled to trust the gentle, 
 shrinking, sensitive girl of nineteen to the stern, 
 commanding, polished man of the world, twelve 
 years her senior ? 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair begged for a delay in the engage- 
 ment, but certainty was Colonel Forbes' necessity. 
 If he could not have certainty, he would have 
 despair, and Mrs Sinclair yielded ; more, however, 
 to Jane's tearful eyes and pale cheeks than to the 
 urgent demands of the Colonel. She could have
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON, 27 
 
 opposed his words, but she could not oppose Jane's 
 sorrowful but dutiful submission, and the engage- 
 ment was ratified, subject only to the condition, 
 that three months should elapse before the mar- 
 riage. 
 
 " Colonel Forbes will not be here to-day, Jane, 
 I think you said," observed Mrs. Sinclair, as she 
 watched the rapid progress of Jane's pen. — " No, 
 not till to-morrow — to-morrow at four ; he will not 
 return from London till then. He asked if we 
 would walk on the Maplestead Road to meet him, 
 and I am writing to tell him we will." Mrs. 
 Sinclair smiled. It was a very long message for 
 such a simple announcement, three pages at least. 
 " It is a happy thing you can write, Jane," she 
 said ; " Colonel Forbes would never have known 
 anything about you without writing." — " No, 
 only facts," replied Jane, and her voice had an 
 accent of sadness. " He scolds me for it a little 
 now ; he says I am so different from my letters ; 
 but I mean to talk to him by and by, mamma, just 
 as I do to you." — " I trust so, my child," but Mrs. 
 Sinclair was not very confident in her tone. She 
 dreaded Jane's timidity and reserve of manner. It 
 would not suit all people ; it might not suit Colonel 
 Forbes. The coldness would be too like himself. 
 Yet he must have seen through it quickly, or he 
 would not have ventured to risk his happiness by 
 the offer he had made. If it were only possible to 
 search into people's hearts to know what it was 
 which influenced them! Mrs. Sinclair need not 
 have been perplexed upon that point. Any person 
 who looked at Jane would have seen quite sufficient 
 to account for the fiiscination she had exercised. It 
 was not regular beauty which was her charm, but 
 exquisite refinement. She was so slight and 
 delicate, so graceful and quiet, one could scarcely
 
 28 KATHxiPJXE ASHTOX. 
 
 have desired any cl)ange except it might he n 
 tinge of deeper colour in the pale cheek, and 
 somethincr of g-reater animation in the blue drearav 
 eye. Perhaps, too, some might have required more 
 warmth of expression ; for although all who knew 
 Jane well, knew also the quickness and depth of her 
 feelings, there were many who did not know her, 
 and said they never could, and they were cold in 
 manner in consequence, and frightened Jane, and 
 threw her back more into herself, and so the evil 
 increased. But Jane did not see its full extent yet. 
 She had her mother to love her, and many dear 
 friends who understood her, and one especially, who 
 was only too willing to make her his idol, and so 
 she lived in her own happy world, and gave no 
 thought to what might be beyond. 
 
 " I must give up to-day, mamma, to business," 
 said Jane, as at length she laid down her pen, and 
 folded up her letter. " If we are to walk to Maple- 
 stead to-morrow, I must go and see my old women 
 this afternoon." — " Mrs. Reeves is disconsolate at the 
 notion of your going away, Jane," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 ''' she thought you were going to be her right hand." 
 — " Not a very strong one, I am afraid," replied Jane, 
 laughing ; " she will be badly off if she has nothing- 
 better to depend upon." — " I suspect she has not 
 very much," observed Mrs. Sinclair ; "there is no one 
 scarcely living in Ril worth who can do anything. IMr. 
 Reeves says it puts him in despair." — "He always 
 finds fi\ult with Rilworth," said Jane; '*I don't like 
 him for that. I am sure the people are much better 
 than he fancies ; but he cannot know much about 
 them, for he is only just come." — " I dare say they 
 may be good in their way," replied Mrs. Sinclair, 
 "only Mr. Reeves cannot get at them ; and one thing 
 every one must see — the subscriptions are miser- 
 able." — " Colonel Forbes means to subscribe to the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 29 
 
 Rilworth charities," said Jane. " I asked liim about 
 them the other day, and he said of course what- 
 soever I was interested in he should be delighted to 
 assist ; so Mr. Reeves may be happy on that point. 
 Dear mamma, why do you look so grave ? " — " Be- 
 cause money is so much, and does so little, my 
 child," replied her mother ; " and because living in 
 a country town one cannot help feeling it. 1 won- 
 der, Jane, what has become of all those young girls 
 you used to talk to me about years ago." — "' Yes, 
 Kate, and Selina, and Matty," and Jane ran over a 
 long list of names — " so odd it is to remember how 
 one used to know all about them, and now they 
 have passed away, quite out of one's sight. I don't 
 like to think of that : I don't wish to forget any 
 one I have ever been with." — "That is a young 
 thought, Jane. Life is not long enough to remem- 
 ber every one." — '* They were very good-natured 
 girls, and clever, too, some of them," continued 
 Jane, pursuing the current of her own ideas ; " 1 
 should like to know what they have turned out.'' 
 — " Notliing very valuable, I am afraid," said Mrs. 
 Sinclair, " according to Mr. Reeves' account of the 
 Sunday dress." — "Yes, that is surprising,certainly," 
 observed Jane ; " I remember now, I did see one of 
 them last Sunday as we were going to church — 
 Selina Fowler, and such a gay bonnet she had ! 
 flowers outside and inside! I knew her directly, 
 because she was so exactly what she was at school ; 
 but they were not all like her, mamma. There 
 were some very^ sensible, right-thinking girls ; I 
 dare say they would help Mr.Reeves, if he would ask 
 them." — " Some of them do help him in the Sunday 
 school, I believe," said IMrs. Sinclair, " but they are 
 so fanciful, they do not like to be interfered with ; 
 and they are always taking offence^ thinking that
 
 30 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 soQie slight is intended. It must be very difficult 
 to know what to do with them." 
 
 " Why should people think that others, especially 
 such clero;ymen as Mr. Reeves, intend to be rude 
 to them ? " said Jane, thoughtfully. — " Because they 
 are trying to move beyond their position," replied 
 Mrs. Sinclair, "and they are conscious of it. People 
 are always then on the qui vive for any neglect. 
 What we all want to learn is the meaning of that 
 sentence in the catechism, 'to do our duty in that 
 state of life to which God has called us,' and not 
 in any other." 
 
 " Then, mamma," said Jane, playfully, " I had 
 better put on my bonnet, and go out to my old 
 women ; and so give me a kiss, and wish me good 
 bye, and hope that they won't have dreadful tales 
 to tell of each other, for that makes me more 
 unhappy than anything." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Jane walked into High Street, and when she reached 
 the upper end turned into a narrow lane that led 
 into the country. Just beyond was a row of old 
 picturesque almshouses; they formed a portion of a 
 small district, which had been given her in charge 
 by Mi\ Reeves, the Vicar of Rilworth. Jane did not 
 think she was doing any vast amount of good by 
 undertaking a district. She was only a learner, and 
 the work offered her was much less than it would 
 have been in other parts of the town, and consisted 
 chiefly in reading to the old women who could not 
 go to church, and reporting special cases of sickness 
 and distress to Mr. Reeves. Yet it was work , it
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 31 
 
 was something definite, and under rule, and Jane 
 could better bear to hear as she was beginning to 
 hear of sin and suffering, when she felt that, as far 
 as in her lay, she was doing something, however 
 slight, to relieve it. 
 
 Since her return to Rilvvorth she had sometimes 
 felt that life in a country town — in any town, or 
 large village in fact, or wherever numbers of her 
 fellow-creatures were congregated, would be very 
 oppressive if she were forced to sit idle. Probably 
 she would have felt it more if her thoughts had 
 been disengaged ; but even Jane Sinclair, sin- 
 cere and practical though she undoubtedly was, now 
 and then grew dreamy when she dwelt upon the 
 bright future of a married life. 
 
 She had paid her visits, and was just leaving the 
 last cottage beyond the almshouses, when a wide 
 heavy cart drove down the lane, and prevented her 
 from crossing the road as she had intended. She 
 stood for a moment at the cottage door, where two 
 little boys about four and five years of age were 
 playing. They had no occasion to run, but of 
 course they did, just as the cart drew near, and 
 immediately in front of the horse. Of course also 
 Jane's impulse was to bring them back, but she only 
 succeeded in saving one, the other in his haste 
 fell, and though unhurt by the wheel, his arm was 
 severely injured. 
 
 The screaming, calling, talking, rushing back- 
 wards and forwards which ensued, were both con- 
 fusing and alarming to poor Jane. The neighbours 
 crowded round the child, and seemed inclined to 
 appeal to her as, in some way or other, the cause of 
 the accident. She had rushed after the child, there- 
 fore it was supposed she had made him fall, and 
 Jane found herself considered responsible not only 
 for the injury, but for its treatment. " What was to
 
 32 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 be done ? What would the youn^ lady wish to 
 be done ? The child was an orphan, he lived with 
 his aunt Stokes, poor body ! she was very weakly, 
 and would never know what to do with him." The 
 voices were so eager that Jane could only indistinctly 
 gather their meaning. She stood in the centre of 
 the crowd, self-possessed in manner but exceedingly 
 pale, trying to make herself heard as she suggestt^d 
 the natural step of taking the child to the nearest 
 surgeon that his arm might be examined. A sturdy 
 labourer took the little fellow up, and the crowd 
 moved on ; for numbers had been attracted to the 
 spot, and no one chose to go away till everything 
 was known that could be known. 
 
 " Mr. Fowler's is the nearest, carry him in there," 
 said an elderly w^oman as they turned the corner 
 into High Street. " Yes, pray take him to the first 
 surgeon you can," said Jane, eagerly. She was be- 
 coming very uneasy, for the child moaned sadly. 
 "Keep off, will you?" said the labourer, as he 
 mounted the steps to the green door. A few idle 
 boys still peeped in, and Jane was kept back. A 
 windoAV which opened upon a balcony above Avas 
 thrown open, and some one looked out. "I declare 
 it's Miss Sinclair," said a loud, quick voice, and 
 then a lady wearing a black cap with rose-coloured 
 ribbons called out, '• Get back, boys, get back; why 
 don't you let the lady come up ?" The boys laughed, 
 and scrambled to the side railings, and one of them in 
 his haste nearly fell upon Jane. She felt so annoyed 
 that her impulse w^as to go away and leave the child 
 now that he was in safe hands ; but whilst she was 
 hesitating, a young girl appeared at the open door, 
 and speaking in a decided tone, informed the unruly 
 little crowd that she \vould send for the policeman 
 if they did not instantly move ; and then making 
 way for Jane, asked if she would not like to come
 
 KATHAPJNE ASHTON. 33' 
 
 in. " Thank you ; just for one moment, if I am 
 not intruding ;" and Jane hurried up the steps, not 
 knowing whom she was addressing till she entered 
 the passage. Then as she looked up, a gleam of 
 satisfaction brightened her countenance, and she ex- 
 claimed, "Katharine! Katharine Ashton! — indeed I 
 did not know you." — " But I had not forgotten Miss 
 Sinclair," replied Katharine. An eager smile of plea- 
 sure for a moment crossed her face, but her manner 
 became more hesitating, and she added, " Will you 
 walk up stairs and wait in the drawing-room ? Mr. 
 Fowler is out, but his assistant is examining the child." 
 Jane paused a little awkwardly. "Mrs. Fowler and 
 Selina — Miss Fowler — are there, are they not?" 
 " Yes ; they would be very glad to see you if you 
 would like to wait and hear what is the matter with 
 the little boy." Jane looked round as if she would 
 willingly have escaped from the necessity. " Or 
 the back parlour is empty, if you would rather stay 
 there," said Katharine, opening a door near her. 
 Jane had recovered from her uncomfortable shyness 
 now, and said she would go up stairs ; only first — 
 they had not met for so many years — she should 
 like to know how Katharine's family were — 
 her father and her mother, and her brother. She 
 remembered how Katharine used to talk of him. 
 The question was of course reciprocated, and a little 
 family history was given on both sides, and in- 
 quiries were made about Miss Richardson, who had 
 given up her school and removed from Eilworth, 
 and Katharine was telling all she could remember, 
 when Mrs. Fowler interrupted them, rushing down 
 the stairs in a silk dress, flounced to such a width 
 that it almost filled the space between the walls and 
 the balustrade. Katharine drew back, and Jane 
 was greeted with a thousand apologies that she had 
 been allowed to remain below. Mrs. Fowler was so 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 anxious seeing her amongst all those rude boys, and 
 Selina was quite frightened ! Jane only laughed, 
 and said there was nothing to be alarmed at ; but 
 she walked up stairs and Katharine followed. 
 
 "Dear Miss Sinclair," — Selina did not call her 
 *^Dear Jane," because Katharine was present — it 
 was delightful to see her — it was such a long time 
 since they had met, and there were such interesting 
 things to tell and to hear! The delight was so noisy 
 Jane felt almost stunned by it ; and the interesting 
 things were tumbled out from the heterogeneous 
 stores of Miss Fowler's memory with such rapidity 
 and in such wonderful disorder that Jane's con- 
 sciousness of her own identity was rather shaken 
 by it. She listened to the tall, gaily-dressed, hand- 
 some girl who sat by her side, overwhelming her 
 with civilities till she began to ask herself whether it 
 was not really true that they had been great friends, 
 and whether she had not herself suddenly become 
 very cold-hearted since she could not reciprocate the 
 gratification. Besides, both INIrs, Fowler and Selina 
 took such an interest in her affairs, they evidently 
 knew all about her. They did not, indeed, actually 
 mention Colonel Forbes' name, but they talked about 
 happy events, and hoped they might be allowed to 
 congratulate, till poor Jane felt the crimson colour 
 mounting to her cheeks, and tears of shyness and 
 annoyance actually gathering in her eyes. 
 
 '* Would you be kind enough to ask what the 
 report of the little boy is ? " asked Jane, at length, 
 turning to Katharine Ashton, who w^as standing 
 unnoticed by the fire-place. " Ring, Selina, ring," 
 said Mrs. Fowler; "I can't think w4iat has become 
 of Betsey. We have a new housemaid. Miss 
 Sinclair, and it is difficult to get her into the ways 
 of the family. Servants are great troubles, as you 
 young ladies will ail find when you have homes of
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 35 
 
 your own. I can't do anything, can I, Miss Sin- 
 clair, in the way of getting you a servant ? Mrs. 
 Dore, at the Register Office, mentioned a good 
 steady girl to me last week." Jane tried to smile 
 and look amiable, but declined the offer of Mrs. 
 Fowler's assistance, as she v/as not likely to require 
 a servant just yet. " Ah ! delay ! well ! you young 
 ladies are particular — that every one knows. Selly 
 often tells me that she never shall make up her 
 mind to be married ; but she does not know, does 
 she ? till the time comes." — " Would you like me 
 to go and ask for the child myself?" inquired 
 Katharine, breaking into the midst of Mrs. Fow- 
 ler's speech. — "Ah! yes; perhaps it would be as 
 well : Miss Sinclair will be very much obliged to 
 you, I am sure. Go down to the dispensary, my 
 dear, and knock at the door and ask ; — you know 
 where it is, on the right-hand side, at the bottom 
 of the stairs." Katharine was gone before Jane 
 had time to apologise for the trouble she was 
 giving, and Mrs. Fowler went on ; "That is Kate 
 Ashton, Miss Sinclair; you must remember Kate 
 Ashton, at Miss Richardson's. You, and Kate, and 
 my Selly, were all at school together. She is a 
 very good girl, is Kate ; not, you know, quite the 
 lady — that one couldn't expect — but very useful ; 
 a great help at home, I believe. She often comes 
 to see us : Selly likes the keeping up old friend- 
 ships, and Kate really is a very good girl." — "And 
 old Mr. Ashton is considered very rich," observed 
 Selina ; "they say he won't keep on business much 
 longer." — " He has a son to take it, has he not ? " 
 asked Jane, feeling quite glad to touch upon a 
 subject which did not involve personalities. "Why, 
 yes, yes," observed Mrs. Fowler, with some hesita- 
 tion, whilst Selina smiled, and bridled her head, 
 and said, " Oh, mamma ! " and then stopped, and 
 V 2
 
 36 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 smiled and bridled again. " I am right, vSelly," 
 observed Mrs. Fowler, nodding at her : " old Mr. 
 Ashton has got a son to take the business ; but we 
 may tell Miss Sinclair, between ourselves, that 
 there is a great doubt whether he ever will take it. 
 You see it's a great pity to throw a fine young man 
 away in that fashion — to put him behind a counter, 
 and make nothing of him." — "The business has 
 been so long established," observed Jane ; " and Mr. 
 Ashton is so much respected, it would have seemed 
 the most natural thing to do ; however, that is 
 really not any concern of mine, only I hope, for 
 Katharine's sake, that whatever her brother under- 
 takes he may succeed in.^' 
 
 "Oh! there is no doubt of that, no doubt what- 
 ever," began Mrs. Fowler ; " he is a very fine ; " 
 
 the eulogium was stopped by Katharine's re- 
 entrance. " Poor child, how is he ? " asked Selina, 
 before Jane bad time to speak. — " In a good deal 
 of pain from the bruises ; but there is no bone 
 broken," replied Katharine, rather shortly. " They 
 are going to take him home," she added ; " but I 
 said I thought Miss Sinclair would like to see him 
 first." — " Thank you ; certainly," said Jane ; " may 
 I go down stairs ? " and she rose eagerly. — "TVe are 
 so pleased ; it has been such a great delight to 
 Selly seeing you again," observed IMrs. Fowler, 
 seizing Jane's hand, and retaining it against her will. 
 — "A great delight, indeed," echoed Selina; '* we 
 shall meet, I hope, very often now.'' — " As often as 
 circumstances will permit," said Mrs. Fowler, with a 
 peculiar intonation of the voice, which was meant 
 as a kind of stage aside ; "you forget that, Selly." 
 Poor Jane blushed again, and felt fearfully stiff and 
 cold. " Good morning," was all she could say ; 
 and she followed Katharine down stairs. 
 
 They went into the surgery ; the little boy was
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. S7 
 
 lying in the Assistant's arms ; he was quiet, but very 
 pale. A woman who lived in the same house with 
 his aunt, was going to take him home, but she had 
 gone awiiy on an errand. The Assistant was a 
 little impatient of his burden ; he had a good many 
 patients to attend to, and there was nothing in the 
 case of a child's bruised arm to excite much sym- 
 pathy even if he had much to give. Jane asked 
 a few questions about the treatment required, and 
 then observing the hasty glances which the young 
 surgeon cast at the door, offered to sit down, and 
 take the child in her lap, and keep him still. " He 
 is so dirty," said Katharine ; " you can't do that." — 
 Jane did shrink back for a moment as she looked 
 at his soiled face and torn clothes, and then she 
 smiled, and putting her arm round him, said, 
 " I am afraid it will be a long time before we help 
 others, if we wait till the world is clean." An accent 
 in her voice, or possibly an expression in her face, 
 carried Katharine's memory far back — to Miss 
 Richardson's, — the scene in the passage, the ringing 
 of the bell, and the calling over the names. It had a 
 strange effect upon her; — it seemed to break down 
 a barrier between herself and Jane ; yet she stood 
 silent and distant as before. " I suppose one ought 
 to feel more pity than disgust with these poor little 
 creatures," said Jane, as she allowed the child's head 
 to rest upon her arm, though not till she had covered 
 it with a handkerchief. " Their mothers ought to 
 be taught to keep them clean," replied Katharine ; 
 " the dirty children in Rilworth are a disgrace to 
 the town." — "In spite of the schools," said Jane 
 thoughtfully. "Do you know Mr. Reeves?" she 
 added — " He calls sometimes to talk to my fiither," 
 replied Katharine. — " He is a very good man," said 
 Jane ; " the poor people seem to like him very much." 
 — " Do they? I never heard any one say much about 
 
 D 3
 
 38 KATHAPJXE ASHTOX. 
 
 him ; but ray father likes him in the church." — 
 " And don't you like him too?" asked Jane. — " Oh ! 
 yes, very much, when I hear him, but he generally 
 preaches in the evening, and then I stay at home 
 and read to my mother : she is afraid of taking 
 cold if she goes out at night — to church at least, — 
 it is so hot." — " Poor little fellow," said Jane, again 
 turning her attention to the child, "he is an orphan." 
 — " He lives in one of the almshouses, in Long Lane, 
 doesn't he?" asked Katharine; "I fancied I heard 
 one of the men who brought him say so." — " Yes, 
 with his aunt ; I ought to know something about 
 him, for he belongs to my district ; but he has been 
 in the country lately." Katharine looked at him with 
 more interest, and said, she did not know that Miss 
 Sinclair had any particular reason for taking care 
 of him. "Was her district a very large one ? " — 
 " No, indeed, very small," exclaimed Jane, laughing, 
 "scarcely to be called one, indeed, when compared 
 with others. There are three unoccupied now, Mr. 
 Reeves says, and in the very worst parts of the 
 town. I don't know who could take them;^ 
 there does not seem any one in Eilworth willing to 
 come forward." — " People should be more like you," 
 said Katharine, quickly ; " but I suppose, generally 
 speaking, every one has his own business to attend 
 to." — Jane became rather thoughtful, and presently 
 said, in a hesitating voice : " Mr. Reeves thinks 
 that the business of the poor is every one's busi- 
 ness." — "Oh! yes, of course, if they have nothing 
 else to attend to," said Katharine. " It is a pity there 
 are not more ladies living in Rihvorth." — "And 
 it is such a wretched place!" continued Jane : "I 
 heard miserable stories about it the other day at 
 the district meeting. One family I know myself in 
 Long Lane, seven children there are, the husband 
 works at the cotton-mill, and ^cts nine shillings a
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTOIST. 39 
 
 week, when he is in full work, but half the time 
 he is only employed for three days out of the 
 six, and then he gets nothing ; so how they all 
 live is more than I can imagine ; and there is an 
 old debt hanging over them for house rent, to be 
 paid by degrees, and the poor woman told me to- 
 day that she lay awake at night, thinking what she 
 should do, because all her little furniture would be 
 seized if the money she had agreed for was not ready. 
 And another woman I know, with five children, 
 and the husband quite out of regular work, only 
 gaining half-a-crown or a shilling occasionally, and 
 the woman looking so ill — actually starved, and telling 
 me one Saturday evening, when I happened to go 
 there, that she could not send her children to school 
 any more, for she had parted with their only decent 
 clothes to get them a bit of bread. And this sort 
 of thing one feels is going on all over the town, and 
 no one seems able to get at it, or really help it." — 
 "But I thought the District Society did a great 
 deal to help them," said Katharine. A sad smile passed 
 over Jane's face. " If you did but know," she said, 
 "what it is to dole out district tickets to poor 
 starving people ! Six-pence each is their worth ; 
 and we are obliged to be very economical over them. 
 Districts of forty families are not provided with 
 more than twelve in a month. I don't mean that 
 one is not glad to give these, or that the poor 
 people are not grateful for them. ; but it is startling 
 when one looks through the list of subscriptions to 
 see persons contenting themselves with giving half- 
 a-crown and five shillings a year, and then to hear, 
 as I heard it said the other day, that there ought 
 to be no poverty in Rilworth, because the District 
 Society provides for the wants of the poor." 
 
 " You seem to care a great deal about it," said 
 Katharine : she blushed as she spoke, for her tone 
 
 D 4
 
 40 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 had been very abrupt, and she was conscious o f it. 
 Jane's dreamy eyes were fixed upon her for a mo- 
 ment, in wonder, — " Can one live amongst them 
 without caring ? " she said. 
 
 There was no answer, and there was no time for 
 one. The woman who was to take charge of the 
 child came in to fetch him, and he was given into 
 her charge, and Jane went with her. She would 
 not leave the child, she said, till she had seen what 
 he would want at home. 
 
 They shook hands at parting, and Jane hoped 
 often to see Katharine again ; but her manner was 
 a little awkward, as if she did not know on what 
 footing to place their acquaintance. Katharine 
 smiled, — " If you will come and see me in our par- 
 lour behind the shop," she said, " I should think it 
 very kind ; I am there nearly all day ; my father 
 will not let me go into the shop." Jane held out 
 her hand again — this time with great cordiality, — 
 " Thank you ; then if I may come, I will," and she 
 followed the woman and the little boy down the 
 street. 
 
 Katharine stood at the door looking after her ; 
 then she heard Selina Fowler's voice, and, without 
 waiting to be Sf)oken to, she hurried home. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Katharine Asiitok's character was one which un- 
 folded itself slowly : the bud was only half opened 
 even at eighteen, but within it was the form of the 
 perfect flower ; so it is with all whose dispositions, 
 like hers, are grafted upon candour and honesty of 
 purpose. There is a great deal of talking in the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 41 
 
 present day about truth, and '' shams," and " hum- 
 bugs," but through it all one cannot help feeling 
 that as much falsity often exists in the minds of 
 those who declaim most loudly upon the subject, as 
 in the very persons with whom they are finding 
 fault. Theories of truth are for the most part un- 
 true. It is practical truth which we want, — con- 
 scientiousness, — the agreement of the daily life 
 with the principles upon which it is professed to 
 be governed. Let these be what they may, — high 
 or low, religious, or merely moral, founded upon 
 right or upon mistaken judgment, — if the con- 
 stant effort of the heart is to keep the principle 
 and the action in accordance, there is a hope, — 
 more than a hope — almost a certainty, of improve- 
 ment, for the foundation of the character is true. 
 And so, on the contrary, if we allow ourselves, 
 in ever so slight a degree, to hold principles 
 which we do not heartily try, in spite of constant 
 failure, to carry out in practice, the germ of im- 
 provement is wanting, for the foundation of the 
 character is untrue. 
 
 Katharine Ashton's tone of mind was not in 
 the least like Jane Sinclair's. Jane was deeply, 
 earnestly religious, both in feeling and conduct ; 
 Katharine was religious also, but the motive was 
 duty, not love. Jane was dreamy and imaginative, 
 and but for her exceeding unselfishness and kind- 
 ness of heart, it would at times have seemed a task 
 beyond her strength to be practical. Katharine, 
 on the contrary, was essentially active in body 
 and mind ; so active that energy became her 
 snare, for constant occupation kept down her 
 higher impulses. Yet one thing they had in com- 
 mon, — sincerity ; and when they met, with tlie bar- 
 riers of society and education between them, they 
 understood each other, and were at ease.
 
 42 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 Katharine, perhaps, the most so. She had no wish 
 for anything beyond her own position ; no object in 
 striving to be what she was not. Simple herself, 
 she gave others credit for equal simplicity; and when 
 Jane met her cordially, and recalled the pleasant 
 feelings of old times, she received the kindness as 
 it was intended, not as in any way a condescen- 
 sion, but as the warmth of heart of an old friend. 
 
 Yet there was an influence in Jane's character 
 to which it was scarcely possible that Katharine 
 should be insensible. She was very ignorant of 
 herself, — of her own powers, — or even her own 
 tastes ; but there were some moments in which 
 glimpses of higher enjoyments than she had yet 
 known, and impulses for nobler good, shot, as it 
 were, across the twilight of her mind. She could 
 feel what she did not reason upon ; she had felt the 
 charm of Jane Sinclair's quiet but chivalrous spirit 
 of self-sacrifice when they were children together 
 at school. It had insensibly aided to keep up the 
 standard of her own principles, as its memory lin- 
 gered with her in after years ; and now it had met 
 her again in the same form, — unpretending, unexcit- 
 ing, almost concealed by an impassive manner, yet 
 as intensely earnest, as thoroughly single-minded, 
 as in the young days when Jane lost the chance of 
 her own reward, because she could not make up her 
 mind to give up the hope of helping another. 
 
 " How can one live amongst them without 
 caring ? " repeated Katharine to herself, as she 
 walked leisurely home. She had a new idea in her 
 mind, and she looked down the narrow allej^s and 
 courts, which opened into the High-street of Ril- 
 worth, with something of the feeling of having seen 
 them for the first time. Yet it did not quite strike 
 her that she could have any concern with them : 
 she did not know that she had time, or talents, or
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 43 
 
 money to spare, as she supposed Jane had. She 
 felt, indeed, that Jane was using her powers to the 
 best advantage, and she honoured her for it. If she 
 herself was a lady, with plenty of money, and no- 
 thing to occupy her, it seemed that she would like 
 to do the same ; but now with the business of the 
 shop, and her duties to her parents, and work for 
 her brother, there could be no time, she fancied, for 
 any thing more. 
 
 Yet Katharine was not happy when she reached 
 home ; the old sense of nothingness and useless- 
 ness was upon her. She went up to her room to 
 take off her bonnet, and was sent for to write a 
 letter — an order, for her father, to go off by that 
 day's post. There was a great disinclination in her 
 mind for such work. She did not see why people 
 should send orders, or what good her father did, 
 except to himself, by undertaking to execute them. 
 People read, she supposed, for amusement, and what 
 was amusement ? Jane Sinclair's work was much 
 more profitable. She wished she could have some- 
 thing like it, instead of her own; but that was dis- 
 content, and Katharine had a great dread of grow- 
 ing discontented, for she thought that she saw in 
 her own mind a tendency to it ; and she knelt 
 down and repeated a prayer against the fault, out 
 of a little book of prayers which Miss Richardson 
 had given her. Katharine's sincerity made her do 
 that. A childlike conscientiousness took the place 
 of love in her religion. She did what love and 
 faith would do ; but, as yet, she only found safety 
 in it, not pleasure. 
 
 Writing the letters occupied her till nearly four 
 o'clock, — and then there was just time to read 
 to her mother till it grew dark ; so she brought 
 one of the novels from the library, and read aloud 
 till the twilight ; and then the fire was stirred, and
 
 44 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 a bright blaze made, and chairs were drawn near to 
 the cheerful hearth ; and Mr. Ashton came in from 
 the shop to have a little talk before tea. 
 
 " Well, Kitty," was his first question, "w^here did 
 you go this afternoon when I saw you setting forth 
 so boldly up the street by yourself ? " — " Selly 
 Fowler asked me to walk up and see her," replied 
 Katharine ; "she wanted some help about a new 
 dress she is going to wear to-night, and the maid 
 was busy." — " Miss Seily likes to see her handsome 
 face set off by fine clothes — doesn't she, now ? " said 
 Mr. Ashton, laughing. "But what is the party 
 to-night?" — "A tea-party at Mr. Madden's, the 
 brewer's," said Katharine, " and a dance, too, Selly 
 thinks. She wanted me to wish to go too, father," 
 added Katharine, with a smile, " but I did not wish 
 it at all ; I should never care to know set-up people 
 like the Miss Maddens." — " They are very stylish, 
 though," said Mrs. Ashton, " and the Andrews's are 
 there for ever." — " That is partly why I don't like 
 them, mother dear," said Katharine ; " I never like 
 any one that Matty Andrews likes. But, father, I 
 saw Miss Sinclair to-day, too, at IMr. Fowler's, and 
 she asked after you all, and after John, and seemed 
 to remember all about us." — "Calling at Mrs. 
 Fowler's, was she ? " said Mrs. Ashton ; " I never 
 should have thought they visited ; old Miss Maurice 
 used to keep so much to herself when she was living 
 here." — " She was not calling, though Mrs. Fowler 
 took it as a call," said Katharine, laughing ; " she 
 came there by accident, because there was a child 
 hurt, and she had seen it fall, and came to know 
 what the hurt was. She has one of the districts, 
 and goes about a good deal, I suspect." — "Ladies 
 like to fidget in and out with the poor people," said 
 Mr. Ashton, " but I don't see, for my part, the good 
 of it. What is the use of a clergyman if he doesn't
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 45 
 
 look after Lis own poor ? however, they have nothing 
 else to do in the world — I suppose that's it." — " Miss 
 Sinclair thinks the Rilworth people very badly off," 
 said Katharine. I tell you what, Kitty," replied 
 Mr. Ashton, somewhat hastily, " that is iust one of 
 the things which young ladies like to talk about, 
 because they don't understand it. There's a set of 
 idle vagabonds in Rilworth who will drink, and 
 won't work, and they may be poor, I grant ; but 
 who can help a man who won^t help himself?" — " But 
 if the man drinks the woman suffers," said Mrs. 
 Ashton, who had a natural sympathy for wives. 
 *' Very likely ; but let the worst come to the worst, 
 there's the Union, with plenty to eat and drink, and 
 good teaching for the children, — there isn't a better 
 school in Rilworth than the Union School.'* — " The 
 poor are very foolish, I must say that," observed 
 Mrs. Ashton. " I was talking to Anne Crossin, the 
 new washerwoman, the other day, and asking her 
 why she and her blind husband did not go into the 
 Union ; and she said that if he went they must all 
 go, and then she shouldn't be with him, or with the 
 children. But, as I said to her, it's better not to see 
 them, and to know they are well off, than to be with 
 them and see them starve. vShe couldn't take in the 
 notion, though, and said she would rather work on 
 as she was, and trust in Providence." — " But, father," 
 asked Kate, "wouldn't a man like that get some- 
 thing from the parish ? " — " That depends," replied 
 Mr. Ashton, oracularly, — "you see, Kitty, the 
 guardians of the poor have two things to attend to 
 — the public and the pauper ; — if they help the 
 pauper beyond a certain point, they come heavy 
 upon the public, and then there's an outcry. Poor- 
 rates in Rilworth, as it is, are monstrously heavy." 
 — "John Crossin keeps a lodging-house," said Mrs. 
 Ashton, — "that's the reason why they don't get any
 
 46 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 help from the parish." — " To be sure not!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Ashton : " a man pays his fifteen pounds a-year, 
 and rates and taxes, and yet he wants to be con- 
 sidered a pauper : it's an absurdity." — " It does seem 
 fair enough," observed Mrs. Ashton; ''and Anne 
 Crossin didn't exactly complain, — only, she said that 
 it would be no good to her to get into a smaller 
 house, because, if she did, she should have rent to 
 pay, and now the lodgers did help her with that, 
 and sometimes there was a trifle over." — "Then, 
 they only want a little help till the man can have 
 his eyes couched, and get back to his work again," 
 said Katharine — " it does seem rather a hard case." 
 — "My dear Kitty," — and Mr. Ashton became a little 
 excited in manner, as he always did when there was 
 a question about the Union — "it's mere nonsense 
 for a girl like you to give any opinion about sueli 
 matters. Guardians of the poor are bound to pro- 
 tect the public ; they can't allow imposition ; they 
 don't want people to starve, and so they say come 
 into the Union ; and if the poor don't choose to 
 come into the Union they must take the conse- 
 quences." — " Then, what Miss Sinclair says is quite 
 true," said Katharine, "and it is a great pity that 
 more help is not given to the District Society ; for 
 you see, father," — and a smile played upon her lips 
 — " district societies are not bound to protect the 
 public." — "I don't know anything about district 
 societies, and don't care what they do," replied Mr. 
 Ashton, " but I never will stand by silent and hear 
 the guardians of the poor abused. There they are, 
 working week after week like dray-horses to keep 
 down the rates; and every idle vagabond in the 
 country who doesn't choose to lift his hand to his 
 mouth is to be put upon them for sujjport : it really 
 is too bad." — " And things were so badly managed 
 in the old poor-law time, when every one was
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 47 
 
 helped," said Mrs. Ashton ; " the sums of money 
 that were spent ! — no one ever would have 
 imagined it ; I used to hear my fiither talking 
 about it." — " Sums of money spent, and no good 
 done !" replied Mr. Ashton : " now we have matters 
 regularly ordered, and economically too." 
 
 Katharine was not accustomed to argue with her 
 father : and, in the present case, she would not have 
 known what she was to argue for ; but she did not 
 feel that the root of the matter had been reached. 
 Possibly guardians of the poor were bound to be 
 strict ; but if they could not give help, who could ? 
 
 The report of the District Visiting Society hap- 
 pened to be lying on the table, and she had an 
 impulse to examine the subscription list. Mr. 
 Ashton's name was down for five shillings per 
 annum : the whole amount of the subscriptions 
 was eighty pounds. Katharine was rather fond 
 of reckoning, so she amused herself with making 
 a calculation. The population of Rilworth was 
 about 5,000 — that she knew. Suppose 500 only 
 required relief, the eighty pounds would be a littfe 
 more than three shillings and threepence each. 
 
 Poor Anne Crossin — with her blind husband and 
 her seven children ! — no wonder that her heart sank 
 when she had no resource even in the guardians of 
 the poor, and her share in the public charities of 
 the town was but three shillings and threepence in 
 the course of the year. 
 
 Katharine went to bed that night thinking of 
 the poor. She could scarcely be said ever really 
 to have thought of them before ; — and she did more 
 than think — she prayed for them ; she asked for spe- 
 cial help for special cases — the poor washerwoman 
 — the woman who lay awake at night thinking how 
 she should pay her rent — the mother who sold her 
 children's frocks to buy them bread. When she rose
 
 48 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 up from prayer she went to her desk, and took out 
 half-a-sovereign which she had laid by for the pur- 
 chase of a new work-box, and put it in her purse, 
 that it might be offered on the next opportunity to 
 Miss Sinclair, for her district. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was a bright afternoon for Jane's walk to Maple- 
 stead, or rather on the Maplestead road ; very warm 
 for the end of September, and yet very invigorating ; 
 and there were glorious colours on the fading leaves, 
 and dancing lights amongst the heavy boughs of 
 the old beeches and oaks, and sunshine on the broad 
 green border of grass by the road side, and misty 
 purple vapour over the peeps of the distant country. 
 In days of yore there had been a forest where 
 Maplestead stood, and the peculiarities of forest 
 scenery were still to be traced along the road, — 
 glades, and underwood, and spaces where trees 
 had once stood, now turned into open commons, and 
 rich in heath, and fern, and gorse. Jane would 
 not have been human if a glad feeling of future 
 possession had not enhanced the enjoyment of that 
 walk. All the property on both sides of the road 
 between Maplestead and Rihvorth for many miles 
 belonged to Colonel Forbes by recent purchase. 
 •The estate was one of the finest in the county, and 
 she was to share it. It was a very strange fact, — she 
 could scarcely believe it to be true ; she so young, 
 so ignorant of the ways of the world, so little 
 fitted, as it seemed, for a position of influence. 
 Almost she could have thought herself wrong in
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 49 
 
 undertaking it, but there was anotlier fact more 
 stranj^e— that she should be loved ; that a man like 
 Colonel Forbes, accustomed to the most intellectual 
 society, fastidious, clever, universally respected, 
 should care for her — more than care for her — that 
 he should have felt the happiness of life at stake, 
 when he asked if his affection could be returned. 
 That would have been a problem never to be solved, 
 but that Jane loved herself, and from the depth of 
 her own feeling could gain faith to believe in his. 
 
 A shadow fell upon the road : it was very distant, 
 but Jane's eye caught it in a moment. She stepped 
 forward hastily, but checked the impulse almost 
 immediately, and only drew the closer to her 
 mother's side and became silent. 
 
 " There are two," she said, as the forms of the 
 persons approaching became more distinct. Iler 
 tone of disappointment met with instant sympathy. 
 " Some one he has met on the road, I dare say," 
 said Mrs. Sinclair ; " they will be sure to part again." 
 Jane did not reply, she walked more slowly now as 
 if she dreaded the meeting. "It is not a very pre- 
 possessing looking person," said Mrs. Sinclair, 
 smiling; "I do not think Colonel Forbes will long 
 have him for a companion." 
 
 Jane watched them anxiously. She did not like 
 the meeting to be in the presence of a stranger, and 
 she could willingly have turned aside to avoid it 
 altogether ; but they were too near for that. Colonel 
 Forbes stopped when he came up to them, as if he 
 meant to wish his companion "good bye," but the 
 hint was not taken. "It is young Ashton, Mr. 
 Ashton the bookseller's son," said Mrs. Sinclair; 
 " there is nothing very awful in him, Jane, so you 
 need not look so alarmed." Jane was not alarmed 
 at the sight of John Ashton, she only thought of 
 him as a restraint, but she did shrink from some- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 thing, she could not tell what, and her limbs trem- 
 bled, and her heart beat very fast ; and then in her 
 extreme effort to be self-possessed, she went up to 
 Colonel Forbes and placed the coldest, most lifeless 
 of liands in his, and accosted him witli a remark 
 upon tlie weather, which might quite as easily have 
 been addressed to John Ashton. 
 
 The polished gentleman to whom the words were 
 spoken betrayed no signs of the impression which 
 the greeting gave him. He bowed John Ashton 
 away with an air which did not admit of another 
 word being said, offered an arm to Jane and to her 
 mother, and turned with them towards Maplestead. 
 
 " The young man wants one of my farms," he 
 said, addressing Mrs. Sinclair. The information 
 was not very interesting, and no one probably but 
 Jane would have noticed the tone in which it was 
 made. It struck her, how^ever, as chilling, and 
 there was a quick glance at Colonel Forbes' coun- 
 tenance, followed by a slight shadow upon her ow^n. 
 Mrs. Sinclair paused ; perhaps she thought that Jane 
 would speak ; but finding her silent, she asked a few- 
 questions about the farm and the young man's pro- 
 spects. Colonel Forbes went on drily — he could be 
 very dry, peculiarly uninteresting, when he chose, 
 only one felt that underneath there might be a 
 volcano working, and so there was the excitement 
 of guessing when it might burst. " Young Ashton," 
 he repeated, " wants one of my farms ; I don't know 
 whether I shall let him have it. I don't fancy 
 speculations on my estate. The young man seems 
 clever enough, but he is theoretical, and likely to 
 try experiments." — " He is Katharine Ashton's 
 brother, mamma," said Jane timidly. — "You know 
 him, then, do you?" asked Colonel Forbes a little 
 stiffly. — " Oh, yes ; that is, I don't know him, but 
 I know his sister. We were at school together in
 
 KATIIAEINE ASHTON. 51 
 
 those odd days when I went to Miss Richardson's." 
 Jane's words were quite free ; but her manner was 
 very hesitating. " Then probably you have a wish 
 in the case," said Colonel Forbes. Jane's impulse 
 was to say, yes, and to beg that John Ashton might 
 have whatever he wanted, but her unfortunate shy- 
 ness stood in the way, and in the same quiet tone 
 she replied that she did not particularly care about it, 
 A quick ear might have caught the sound of a gentle 
 sigh which escaped from Mrs. Sinclair as Colonel 
 Forbes became suddenly silent, and a few minutes 
 afterwards she withdrew her arm from hii<, and said 
 that she thought it might be better for her not to 
 go any farther, and she would turn back. Colonel 
 Forbes was very polite — very properly desirous that 
 she should not walk by herself, but it was all a 
 matter of form, and Mrs. Sinclair resolutely retraced 
 her steps towards Rilworth, and Jane and Colonel 
 Forbes walked on alone. 
 
 Neither of them spoke. Colonel Forbes moved 
 his walking stick backwards and forwards ; Jane 
 went steadily on, looking neither to the right nor 
 the left. They were very near the first lodge at 
 Maplestead ; their usual walk was the beech tree 
 avenue, which led from it in a side direction to the 
 house. Colonel Forbes opened the gate, but Jane 
 stopped before entering. Three persons were 
 coming down the hill, and one was Katharine 
 Ashton ; the others Jane did not quite know, but 
 she thought that the showy bonnet must be Selina 
 Fowler's. They were so near that she could not 
 avoid them without positive rudeness. Colonel 
 Forbes looked like a thunder-cloud ; he held the gate 
 open impatiently. Selina was pressing forward to 
 speak, but her arm was within Katharine's, and 
 Jane saw that she was forcibly kept back, and they 
 passed with only a bow. Jane turned to Colonel 
 E 2 
 
 »-"-!;;5r
 
 52 KATHARIXE ASIITOX. 
 
 Forbes, and said with a smile of relief, "For the 
 sake of Katharine Ashton yon must give the farm 
 to her brother; you would have had Miss Selina 
 Fowler forcing her acquaintance upon you but for 
 that little bit of tact." — " And why not for your 
 own sake, Jane?" exclaimed Colonel Forbes im- 
 petuously. The volcano was about to burst, but 
 Jane did not tremble now ; anything was better tlian 
 that miserable stiffness caused by her own fault of 
 manner. "Are you never to have courage to ask 
 rae for anything you wish?" he continued, — "must 
 we always meet as strangers ? or am I to believe 
 that there is something so unfortunate in myself as 
 to inspire fear Avhen I most earnestly long for con- 
 fidence?" — "I will try," said poor Jane, and tears 
 gathered in her eyes. " I should have been better 
 if we had been alone, but I thought you would not 
 like it." — " X^ike what?" he repeated quickly; 
 " not that a word or a look should pass w^hich a 
 stranger might comment upon. You know well 
 enough, Jane, that I should shrink from that as 
 much as yourself; but are there not a thousand ways 
 of showing that we understand each other? A 
 smile, or an accent, the pressure of the hand even ? 
 And am I never to see any thing but that look of a 
 frightened fawn, or feel any thing but those icy 
 graspless fingers?" — "Wait and see," said Jane. 
 She looked up into his face with an expression of 
 such confiding love, tliat the most distrustful spirit, 
 even that of Colonel Forbes, could not but have 
 been touched by it. He was a very impatient man, 
 very exacting : a man who is impatient and exact- 
 ing must, in spite of his better principles, too often 
 be selfish and unjust, yet he was honourable, and 
 in a degree soft-hearted. One such look as that 
 and he was won back, at least for the present, and
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 53 
 
 he put his arm round Jane and kissed her, and the 
 cloud passed away. 
 
 They talked of John Ashton, and the farm, and 
 of Katharine, and Jane's acquaintance with her. 
 It was all interesting to Colonel Forbes then ; he 
 liked to read Jane's character in what she said, and 
 delighted in watching the unconscious betrayal of 
 her thoughts, and seeing how, in everything, slie 
 had a reference to him. She praised Katharine 
 Ashton, and described her simplicity of manner, 
 her quiet dress, her considerate thoughtfulness, 
 and, at last, encouraged by the attention she re- 
 ceived, and thinking more and more of Katharine, 
 and less and less of herself, grew quite excited and 
 eloquent. By the time they returned to Rilworth, 
 they had discoursed upon many subjects, and were 
 both charmed with their walk — charmed with each 
 other. Jane thought they Avere also both cliarmed 
 with Katharine Ashton ; but she was mistaken ; 
 Colonel Forbes had nearly forgotten her existence. 
 
 There was a note lying on Jane's table when 
 she reached home. It was from Katharine, en- 
 closing the half sovereign for the District Society. 
 " Miss Ashton had called to see Miss Sinclair," the 
 servant said, " and had waited some time, and then 
 she had left the note." " So nice and good of Ka- 
 tharine Ashton — so practically good, is it not?" 
 exclaimed Jane, putting the note into Colonel 
 Forbes's hand. It was examined and commented 
 upon. The handwriting was clear and legible, just 
 like Katharine herself, Jane said : the few sentences 
 were well expressed, from being entirely to the 
 point. Colonel Forbes was attracted by it. He 
 was a thoughtful man in his way, and very full of 
 theories. He had theories especially about society. 
 Proud though he was — as proud perhaps or prouder 
 
 E 3
 
 54 KATHAPaXE ASHTOX. 
 
 than any other man in the county — he yet professed 
 upon some subjects an ultra liberality. Every one 
 beneath him was to be raised, but to that precise 
 height which would still admit of his standing- 
 superior. It was pleasant to hear him put forth 
 his views upon these points ; his words flowed so 
 smoothly ; one felt when listening to him that the 
 golden days of fraternity and equality miglit, after 
 all, not be so complete a myth as the startling facts 
 of the world would at first lead one to expect. 
 
 He was a great educationist too, a stauncli up- 
 holder of national, model, and industrial schools; 
 his speeches in their favour at public meetings were 
 proverbially good, and his influence in private was 
 always exerted for their support. Yet, strange to 
 say, Colonel Forbes was not a popular man. He 
 had many political friends amongst the tradespeople 
 of Rihvorth, and it was said that if he came forward 
 he would certainly be returned for the borough, but 
 there was no enthusiasm for him. He bestowed 
 favour, but not sympathy, and he gained that which 
 favours can buy, — respect and attention, — but 
 affection demanded a price which it was not in his 
 nature to give. His way of looking at Katharine 
 Ashton's note was a singular exemplification of this 
 trait. It was to him a specimen of the mind of a class, 
 not of an individual. He perceived in it not what 
 Katharine Ashton saw, or thought, or felt, but what 
 the daughter of a person in Mr. Ashton's position 
 might, under favourable circumstances, and with 
 the increased advantnges of the nineteenth century, 
 become. "Yes, it is a clever, well expressed 
 note," he said, as he returned the paper to Jane; 
 "it shows what may be done — what is doing, in 
 fact — all through the country. Fifty years ago no 
 one who had not been highly educated would iiave 
 been able to write in that way." — "Katharine Ashton
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 55 
 
 is clever," said Jane, " yet I don't believe she is 
 in any way remarkable ; but what I like is the 
 thoughtfulness and the decision. I quite well re- 
 member its striking me when we were children 
 together at school, that when a thing was to be done, 
 Katharine was always the person to begin." — "I 
 dare say she is a very good girl," replied Colonel 
 Forbes, carelessly. " One can't be surprised at 
 the way education creeps on," he added. " Such 
 a man as Ashton has enormous influence in a 
 town like Rilworth, and you may be quite sure he 
 is shrewd enough to see that to have his children 
 sensible and well informed is to increase his own 
 power." — "I suppose all that kind of calculation 
 does go on," observed Jane, " and I have no reason 
 for supposing Mr. Ashton to be different from his 
 neighbours, but I tiiink one would be glad to see 
 persons educating their cliildren from some better 
 motive than that of increasing their own power." 
 " You must take things as they are, my dear Jane," 
 was the reply ; " it does not do to be Utopian. 
 You can't expect people to put aside as a motive, 
 the tangible good which is set before their eyes 
 every day, and act from some abstract theory which 
 they have not time to think about." — " But," said 
 Jane, and her voice was a little hesitating, from the 
 instinctive dread that they were about to differ, — 
 " I should think that is what we must all learn to 
 do more or less. Justice, and temperance, and 
 truth are excellent virtues in a worldly point of 
 view, but if we practise them only from worldly 
 motives their value is diminished, if not actually 
 lost." — "Young, dear child, young," said the Colonel, 
 and he looked complacently upon the soft, blue eyes 
 which were so timidly lifted up to his; "but we 
 won't discuss the point now, — I must be going; 
 only just sit down and play to me for a quarter of 
 
 £ 4
 
 OQ KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 an hour, and tell me to-morrow if I can do anything 
 to please this good friend of yours, Katharine 
 Ashton." 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 The next day was Saturday, a busy day at Mr. 
 Ashton's. A great deal of business went on on 
 Saturdays, so many people came in from the coun- 
 try ; the shop was always full from about one o'clock 
 till five, not perhaps with purchasers, but loungers, 
 who yet very often became purchasers in the end. 
 Selina Fowler always made a point of going to see 
 Katharine on a Saturday. She Avas sure to hear 
 news in some shape or other, for though Katharine 
 was not curious, she could not avoid knowing a 
 little of what was going on in the shop, especially 
 as Mr. Ashton himself would occasionally stray into 
 the parlour, and narrate, with considerable humour, 
 the sayings and doings of the unthinking customers, 
 who supposed he had neither eye, nor ear, nor 
 thought for anything but the sale of his books. 
 
 " Now do tell me, Kate," said Selina, as she re- 
 posed in a lounging attitude on the seat of a win- 
 dow which looked out into the back court and the 
 little garden, " do tell me when Jane Sinclair and 
 Colonel Forbes are going to be married." — " I don't 
 know Miss Sinclair well enough to ask her," replied 
 Katharine, who was diligently stitching a wrist- 
 band ; " perhaps, Selly," and she looked up archly, 
 " you had better inquire, as you seem to think she 
 is wishing to make your acquaintance." — " Oh ! as 
 to that," replied Selina, tossing back her bonnet, 
 and shaking the profusion of long black ringlets
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 57 
 
 which hcalf covered her face, " we are acquainted, 
 you know. Mamma was saying yesterd;iy, that 
 really she felt it quite rude not to have called ; but 
 we shall meet next week at the ball, I dare say, and 
 then we can make apologies." — " Are you going to 
 the ball?" asked Katharine, and a smile, which, 
 however, was not |)erceived, played upon her lips. 
 " Why, of course I am ; every one is going." — "And 
 you think Miss Sinclair will be there ?" inquired 
 Katharine. "Jane Sinclair! certainly. Colonel Forbes 
 is one of the stewards. And you will be there too, 
 Kate. I tell you every one is going." — " They call 
 it a Union Ball, don't they ?" asked Katharine. " A 
 Union Ball in honour of royalty," as I heard 
 George Andrews say this very day," replied Selina. 
 "George is full of it; they have made him a steward, 
 and he and I are to dance the first country dance to- 
 gether." — " What is the price of the tickets ?" asked 
 Katharine. — " Four shillings ; they would not have 
 it higher, George told me, because of making it more 
 than people could afford ; and they Avould not have 
 it less, because it might admit people one shouldn't 
 like to be there. Not but there will be an odd set, 
 as it is, George says. The Dobsons, of the china 
 shop, 1 hear, mean to go, but I don't believe they 
 know how to dance a bit." — " A reason why I 
 should not go," said Katharine. " I have quite for- 
 gotten how to dance, and I never had but three 
 quarters at Miss Richardson's." — '"Oh ! but you are 
 different," said Selina ; " it will be quite remarkable 
 if you don't go. They were all but putting your 
 father on the committee, I heard to-day. You know 
 it won't be at all a poor thing ; if it was, papa and 
 mamma would'nt hear of my being there ; but it 
 really is for every body. I believe the Duchess of 
 Lowther herself is to be there." — " Indeed," said 
 Katharine, and her fingers worked faster than ever ;
 
 58 XATHAPJXE ASHTOX. 
 
 " do you know, Selly, it strikes me sometimes that 
 the world is going out of its mind? " She said it so 
 gravely that Selina could not detect the lurking 
 satire, and could only answer with a pettish laugh, 
 " Lai Kate, you are so foolish, there is no talking 
 to you," and then put on her bonnet to go. Katha- 
 rine, however, was bent upon hearing a few more 
 particulars^, and Selina, quickly mollified when 
 gaiety was in question, sat down again, and began a 
 detailed, if not a very eloquent description of the 
 whys and the wherefores of the Union Ball, all of 
 which she professed to have gathered from George 
 Andrews, the eldest son of the great auctioneer, 
 and a friend of her brother's ; the said George 
 Andrews having been duly informed of the fiicts by 
 Colonel Forbes, who was uncle, or grandson, or hun- 
 dredth cousin to the Duchess of Lowther. The Duke 
 of Lowther, the great man of the county, had, it 
 seems, lately been flattered by the admission of his 
 eldest son into Parliament without opposition, and his 
 friends were therefore anxious that he should give 
 some demonstration of his popular sympathies, and 
 considered no occasion more fitting than that of a 
 Royal birth-day. The Duke had been accustomed 
 on this day to give a dinner to the poor, and a feast 
 to the school children, and generally entertained his 
 own particular friends at his own castle, and these 
 festivities no doubt he would have been willing to 
 pursue; but, under the circumstances, some more spe- 
 cial condescension seemed desirable. The Duke was 
 an amiable man, an excellent landlord, a kind friend 
 to all classes ; he had a great wish to promote good 
 feelings amongst his neighbours of every degree, 
 but he did not exactly know how to set about it. At 
 last some one suggested a ball, a Union Ball, which 
 might be loyal and patriotic, and gracefully con- 
 descending on the part of the Duke and Duchess, if
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 59 
 
 they would patronise it, and tliankfully respectful 
 and cordial on the part of the neighbourhood, if they 
 would make up their minds to go to it. Balls of 
 this kind were not unknown in Rilworth. They 
 had been heard of in former days in connection 
 with charity. Why, it was said, should not the 
 amusement be equally suitable in the present in- 
 stance? It miiiht be open to all persons, audit would 
 do good to trade, encourage kindly feeling, and be, in 
 fact, the beginning of that unity of feeling, which 
 is a grand aim of all persons who wish to better 
 the condition of their fellow creatures. The idea 
 •was mentioned, without the Duke's knowledge, to 
 his lawyer, Mr. Lane ; by him it was communi- 
 cated to Mr. Madden, the brewer ; by him to Mr. 
 George Andrews, the son of the auctioneer. A 
 committee was formed, and Colonel Forbes was 
 requested to discover in what light the proposed 
 ball would be viewed at the castle. The Duke was 
 kindly interested, the Duchess most amiable, — the 
 ball was said to be under her especial patronage, — 
 and her name was even suffered to appear in the 
 printed bills: then, of course, all the world were 
 to be present. 
 
 Katharine Ashton, working in that quiet parlour 
 with her mother, had not the smallest idea of the 
 excitement which was prevailing around her. The 
 days of charity balls were long past, and she had 
 never been present at one. It had not entered her 
 head till she heard Selina talk, that any ball of any 
 kind could come in her way. But it did seem a little 
 tempting now: she did not wish to dance ; she did 
 not care to be finely dressed, but she thought it 
 would be very pleasant to hear the band of music, 
 and see the room lighted ; and as Selina ran on 
 with her folly, though Katharine knew it to be 
 folly, she did not thiidv that the world was quite as 
 much out of its mind as she had at first imaijined.
 
 60 KATHARIXE ASIITON. 
 
 " Tliere, I must go now," said Selina at lenf^th. 
 " Mamma will scold me like anything if I don't 
 get home before four. Slie promised to take me to 
 Miss Dyer's to see what things she has got." — " Be- 
 ginning betimes, I see, Miss Selly," said the laugh- 
 ing voice of Mr. Ashton. He had just come in 
 from the shop, and had caught the last words ; 
 " Why, what a figure you will cut at the ball ! " 
 Selina was not very fond of Mr. Ashton ; she never 
 could make up her mind wliether or not he was 
 laufrhino; at her ; and she would have been afraid of 
 him, only that it would have been placing him too 
 much on an equality, — and she never forgot the 
 shop. " Colonel Forbes lias been in, talking about 
 the ball, Kitty," continued Mr. Ashton, " and he 
 says he hopes to see you there." Katharine looked 
 up in wonder. " Me ! father ; I never spoke to 
 him." — " More people know Tom Fool than Tom 
 Fool knows," exclaimed Mr. Ashton, who was 
 evidently labouring under some pleasurable excite- 
 ment ; " the Colonel knows you, if you don't know 
 him. He told me he passed you in the road, the 
 day before yesterday." — " Oh ! yes, I remember 
 now," said Katharine, "just by the lower lodge at 
 Maplestead ; you recollect, don't you, Selina ? " — 
 '' To be sure ; he and Jane Sinclair were having a 
 lovers' walk. How foolish they looked when we 
 came up ! " and Selina laughed in a way which 
 made Katharine feel cross. " I suppose all persons 
 walk together when they are engaged to be mar- 
 ried," she said rather sharply ; " there was nothing 
 very foolish that I could see ; at any rate, it would 
 have been much more foolish in us to interrupt 
 them." — " In you, of course," said Selina, tossing 
 her head ; " because you don't visit them." Katha- 
 rine only smiled, and turning to her father, asked if 
 he knew whether Miss Sinclair would be at the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 61 
 
 ball ? "I suppose so ; of course, indeed, she will 
 be," was the reply. " It is to be a ball for every 
 one, — a Union Ball. The Colonel and I have been 
 having a little talk about the state of things in 
 Rilworth. It is not at all satisfactory, he says, and 
 I agree with him. There is a want of the unity, 
 the sympathy, there ought to be ; there is no fellow- 
 feeling in the town, and things never will go right 
 till there is." — " And do you think the ball will help 
 to produce the fellow-feeling, father ? " asked 
 Katharine, — and she laid down her work, and waited 
 with real interest for the answer. But Selina 
 broke in : " To be sure it will, Kate. I would 
 lay anything that when George Andrews and young 
 Madden are dancing in the same room, they will 
 forget all their quarrels, and be quite friends again. 
 There's nothing like dancing for making people 
 friends." — "Begging your pardon, Miss Selly, that's 
 all nonsense," said Mr. Ashton. " It's not George 
 Andrews, nor George any body, that's particularly 
 thought of, but the town in generah It is the tone 
 of the town, the Colonel says, which will be im- 
 proved by having a Union i3all. Depend upon it, 
 we shan't have all those upstart looks, and airs, and 
 graces from the Miss Maddens, and the Miss Lanes, 
 when they find that other people have as good a 
 right to dance and be merry as themselves. I 
 thought," continued Mr. Ashton, " the Colonel 
 spoke particularly well upon the subject, and he 
 said he should make a point of being there himself, 
 and he meant to bring a large party with him." — 
 " But, father," said Katharine, " it does not seem 
 to me exactly clear how people are to be at all the 
 more friends for dancing together in the same 
 room just for one night. They will go away and 
 forget it, and after all I dare say some of them will 
 take offence." — " That's because you don't under-
 
 62 KATHAKIXE ASHTON. 
 
 stand the working of things, Kitty," replied Mr. 
 Ashton. " What we want in this country is unity. 
 There is no question of that. We have no unity 
 amongst iis. Now if we can but get up something 
 which all may join in, — a meeting for some one 
 purpose, — people will begin to feel they have some- 
 thing in common ; and it is not only the town 
 folks, but the country people, — for tliey will all come, 
 Colonel Forbes says. He has taken to the idea 
 himself mightily. It is just what he has been 
 aiming at for years, he tells me, to bring people 
 together in a hearty, cordial way. So you see, 
 Kitty, you must go, and what is more I must give 
 you a fine new dress, 1 suppose." — " White muslin, 
 with pink bows down it, — that's the most genteel," 
 said Selina. " It was what I wore when I went to 
 the Maddens' great party last Christmas. I am 
 going to have blue silk for the ball ; I am tired of 
 white, and blue does best with my complexion." 
 — " And blue is somebody's favourite colour, I 
 suppose," said Mr. Ashton, slily. Selina pretended 
 to look angry, and put up her hand to her face as if 
 she thought she was blushing, but she managed 
 to say very boldly, " If you mean Mr. John, he would 
 have given his eyes to have seen me in pink ; but I 
 protested I would have blue, and blue it is to be." — 
 " I shall look very droll in a w^hite muslin dress, 
 with pink bows," said Katharine ; " I never put on 
 such a thing in my life before ; and then my arms 
 are so red I" — " Oh, nonsense, Kate," exclaimed 
 Selina ; " with white kid gloves, w^ho need ever care 
 for red arms ? I didn't think you had been so 
 vain, did yon, Mr. Ashton ?" — " My Kitty vain ! " 
 exclaimed ISIr. Ashton. " No, Miss Selly, we leave 
 that for other people. But any how, Kitty, I told 
 Colonel Forbes you would go to the ball, and I am 
 to let him know at the sras committee this evenimr
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 63 
 
 how many tickets we shall want." A knock at the 
 private door interrupted the conversation. Mr. 
 Ashton returned to the shop, and Selina rose to 
 make her escape. Katharine's acquaintances were 
 not considered quite on a level with herself, and she 
 was always a little afraid of an introduction. 
 " Well then ! I may say that Colonel Forbes and 
 Jane Sinclair are sure to be at the ball," she 
 exclaimed, in a low voice. Kate stood up suddenly, 
 her face was crimson, and when Selina turned 
 round, Jane Sinclair was standing in the passage 
 behind her. 
 
 They certainly were a great contrast — Jane, with 
 her very neat dress, her simple grace and refine- 
 ment ; and Selina, with her loud voice and boisterous 
 manner, her showy silk and rustling flounces, and 
 the bonnet, half off her head a perfect garden of 
 flowers. Jane bowed, distantly ; she might have 
 heard Selina's words, — at any rate, it was supposed 
 she had — and Selina rushed by like a whirlwind. 
 Jane, however, was very self-possessed — much 
 more so than Katharine, who looked annoyed. Jane 
 shook hands heartily, and then she sat down and 
 spoke about the weather, — and there was a pause, 
 which was a little awkward. Katharine took up 
 her work, and asked if Miss Sinclair would excuse 
 her going on with it — it was for her brother, and 
 she was anxious to finish it. 
 
 The ice was broken then — there was a subject to 
 begin upon ; and Jane hoped she had not come at 
 an inconvenient hour ; she had chosen it because it 
 seemed the least likely to be the dinner hour. " We 
 dine at half-past twelve," said Katharine, "and drink 
 tea at half-past five, and have supper between nine 
 and ten ; the hours suit with the shop better than 
 any others." — " And I suppose you are often out in 
 the afternoon," observed Jane. "It was about four,
 
 64 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 I think, when we met you the other day at Maple- 
 stead." The we was spoken without hesitation. 
 Jane had an instinctive perception that she was safe 
 with Katharine Ashton. — "Yes; but I don't often 
 walk as far as JMaplestead," replied Katharine. 
 "My brother persuaded me that afternoon to go 
 some way with him ; but then he saw Colonel 
 Forbes, and left me and Selina to go and speak to 
 him upon business." — "I saw your brother with 
 Colonel Forbes," observed Jane ; " and I heard also 
 what the business was, though I did not ask." — 
 " John did not tell me what it was," replied Katha- 
 rine. — Jane looked surprised, and a little embar- 
 rassed. *' Then, perhaps I am only interfering in 
 mentioning it," she said ; " but I called — partly to 
 see you, and partly because Colonel Forbes thought 
 you might know something about your brother's 
 plans." — "Was it about a farm? "said Katharine, 
 looking up eagerly from her work. — " Yes, a farm 
 your brother Vv^ishes to take, I believe. Is he quite 
 resolved upon being a farmer?" — "He would like 
 to farm his own estate," said Katharine, with a 
 smile, which had a good deal of care in it. " Per- 
 haps, Miss Sinclair, Colonel Forbes would talk to 
 my father about it : he is the proper person to con- 
 sult about John's schemes."— Jane was silent ; she 
 felt thrown back. " It is very good of you to inte- 
 rest yourself about him," said Katharine ; " I don't 
 mean to be ungracious.'' She spoke so simply and 
 cordially that Jane's reserve was broken through. 
 " You never used to be ungracious when we were 
 at Miss Richardson's," she said, " so I should think 
 you very much altered if you were so now." — " I 
 say out what I think so soon," said Katharine — "that 
 is my fault; but I don't mean anything but what I 
 say, — and I do feel it very kind of you to trouble 
 about John." — " Only, I am afraid I can do no good,"
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 65 
 
 said Jane. — "Not in helping him to a farm," replied 
 Katharine — "at least, that is what I think. I can't 
 fancy him fitted for it, Miss Sinclair ; he knows so 
 little about farming ; he has only been trying to 
 learn lately." — " So Colonel Forbes feared," replied 
 Jane ; " but he must have some taste or fancy for it 
 to have taken up the idea." — " He has a fancy to be 
 married," said Katharine, her bright eyes sparkling 
 with a momentary feeling of amusement, — "but he 
 has no other fancy that I know of." Jane seemed 
 puzzled; and Katharine, feeling that her words 
 required some explanation, added — "I may say it to 
 you, because every one knows it — he wants to marry 
 Selina Fowler." — "Oh! indeed;" and Jane seemed 
 sorry, yet still perplexed. — " You know what Selly 
 was at school ;" continued Katharine ; " she is just 
 the same now, only grander ; and she looks down 
 upon John, and upon all of us, — and that, I am 
 sure, can't make him happy. But John thinks it 
 would be a fine thing to give up the shop and live. 
 in the country ; and he has great notions that, if he 
 could marry Selina, such people as Mrs. Madden 
 and Mrs. Lane would visit them, and then they should 
 be what he calls up in the world. I don't mind 
 saying all that to you," she added — though a blush 
 crimsoned her face — " I know you will understand." 
 — " Yes," said Jane, thoughtfully : " he is not very 
 unlike the rest of the world." — " Everybody wants 
 to get up higher," said Katharine, quickly ; " but 
 why should they? why can't we all be as we are ?" 
 — " We should be happier," said Jane, and a sigh 
 escaped her. Perhaps she was conscious of not 
 being entirely free from such a wish herself. "And 
 more true and honest-minded," continued Katharine. 
 "People are so double when they are pushing them- 
 selves on. Selly Fowler doesn't mean to be double, 
 but she is ; she comes and talks to me when 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 KATHAEINE ASHTOX. 
 
 she has no one else to talk to, and gets me to help 
 her make her dresses ; but she doesn't care to notice 
 me when she is with the Miss Maddens. How- 
 ever, that is very wrong of me ; I ought not to say 
 anything against Selly — only it comes out naturally 
 when I talk cf her." — "And «o you are quite con- 
 tented, are you, Katharine?" asked Jane. The 
 tone had much in it of the easy unreserve of school 
 days. Katharine paused. " Not quite contented, I 
 think," she said, whilst her fingers moved quickly 
 and almost nervously. " I should like " — and she 
 threw aside her work suddenly, and fixed her deep, 
 earnest gaze upon Jane's face — "I should like. Miss 
 Sinclair, to know v/hat use one is in the world." — 
 " That is just the kind of question you used to ask 
 poor Miss Richardson," said Jane, laughing, " and 
 she never knew how to answer you." — " Nobody 
 can answer me," said Katharine ; "I don't ask many 
 people now — no one, indeed ; but I thought," she 
 added, "when I happened to be at church the 
 Sunday before last, in the evening, that I should 
 like to ask Mr. Reeves." — "Don't you know him? 
 have you never spoken to him ?" asked Jane. — "I 
 saw him once just after he came," replied Katharine; 
 " he called to ask if I could help at all in the Sunday 
 school. I believe some one had told him it was 
 likely I would; but my mother did not like my 
 going away from breakfast on Sunday mornings, 
 and so it came to nothing. Mrs. Reeves called 
 twice afterwards ; but I was not at home, and 
 she only saw my mother. I think, though," — and 
 Katharine's face lighted up with eagerness, — "I feel 
 nearly sure Mr. Reeves could tell me some things 
 if I could talk to him." — " I think he could tell you 
 a great many things," replied Jane; "but what was 
 it he said which put the wish to see him into your 
 head?" — '-'It was about working," said Katharine,
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 67 
 
 "and it is that which is always puzzling me. 
 You don't work as I do. Miss Sinclair, and you 
 have not the need ; yet still you do something, and 
 every one does something ; but it seems as if it was 
 all for ourselves, — and that grows tiresome, and 
 does not seem much good : of course, though, you 
 don't feel it, because you do good to the poor 
 people." — Jane was giving her attention to what 
 was said, yet it was with an air of inward thought 
 all the time. — " I remember that sermon," she re- 
 plied, as Katharine stopped for an instant ; " it was 
 about unity." — " Yes ; people's working for one 
 object, and each having a part to do, which could 
 not be done by any one else — like masons and car 
 penters building a house. It was a very pleasant 
 notion ; and when I came home I felt as if I could 
 make tea, and stitch wristbands, and keep accounts, 
 much more cheerfully if I thought it was part of a 
 great business going on in the world, and not my 
 own small one." — " I must beg Mr. Reeves to call 
 upon you again, Katharine," said Jane, laughing ; 
 " he will rejoice to find any one in Ril worth who 
 has a notion of working." — " I don't think I have 
 much notion of it," replied Katharine, " and I have 
 very little time ; but it would make me more one 
 with people, Miss Sinclair, to have to work with 
 them than to go to a ball and dance with them ; and 
 that is what every one is talking about now." — Jane 
 did not appear at first to recollect, — "A ball?" she 
 said. " Oh ! I remember. Are you going to it ? " 
 — "They want me to go," replied Katharine, "but I 
 don't know whether I shall. I should like it well 
 enough, I dare say, when once there, but I am sure I 
 should not be one bit the better friends with other 
 people for it." — "No ! " exclaimed Jane, "who could 
 think you would be ? " — " A good many people, I 
 believe," said Katharine ; "I fancy," she added, with 
 
 F2
 
 68 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 some hesitation, " that Colonel Forbes does." Jane 
 coloured, and was silent. — " You must have heard 
 of the ball?" continued Katharine. — Jane's answer 
 sounded rather abrupt, in spite of her gentle voice. 
 " Yes, it has been mentioned to me." — She waited 
 for a second ; and then, suddenly turning from the 
 subject, exclaimed, " I have not mentioned now what 
 I principally came for — to thank you very much for 
 the half-sovereign for the District Society." — " It 
 won't go far amongst the poor people," said Katha- 
 rine, " but I had nothing else ; I will give you some 
 more when I have." — " Give it to Mr. Reeves, you 
 mean," said Jane, smiling, in spite of herself, at 
 Katharine's open way of speaking of her charities. — 
 " It is all the same," said Katharine ; " but it was 
 hard to think of what you said of the poor people, 
 and not do something for them. I thought of 
 asking, too, if you did not think it interfering, if I 
 could ever go on a message for you, or do anything 
 for you in your district ? Sometimes, when you are 
 wishing to take a walk, it might be a convenience, 
 and I can generally get out a little while in the 
 afternoon." — " Would you really ? it would be very 
 kind." Jane's face became quite animated. " I 
 would go now, this afternoon, or any time," said 
 Katharine ; " I w411 go at once, if there is anything 
 to do," she added, as she stood up and began to fold 
 her work. Jane laughed, quite merrily for her. — 
 " Oh ! Katharine," she exclaimed, " how like you 
 are now to what you were at Miss Richardson's ! " — 
 Katharine's answer was grave, and very earnest ; — 
 " And so are you like, too. Miss Sinclair ; it would 
 be strange if I did not wish to help you." 
 
 Jane went home to meet Colonel Forbes. He had 
 been very busy all the morning in making arrange- 
 ments for the ball. It was a thing he liked, for 
 he had a good deal of taste, and every one in 
 Rilworth deferred to his opinion. He felt himself
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 69 
 
 SO popular too all the time, making friends with Mr. 
 Madden and Mr. Lane, and consulting Mr. Ashton, 
 and others of the influential tradespeople ! And 
 popularity had many charms for him, though he Avas 
 not sure that he should stand for the borough at the 
 next election. He came back to Jane in what, for 
 a person of his calm, rather stiff manners, was a 
 state of excitement, to tell her what he had been 
 doing, and especially the half message he had sent 
 to Katharine Ashton. He thought it would please 
 her ; she was so full of consideration herself, and so 
 glad of any thing wdiich promoted kind feelings 
 amongst others. — "I told Ashton she must come," 
 he said, as he threw himself into an arm-chair, de- 
 claring that he was almost too tired for a walk. 
 — " She is just the sort of girl who will look well, 
 because she has no airs and graces. I can fancy 
 the Duchess of Lowther taking to her immensely." 
 — "Is it very stupid of me not to see the great 
 benefit which the Duchess of Lowther's notice 
 could be to Katharine ? " said Jane, and a smile 
 lurked around her mouth whilst she looked timidly 
 in Colonel Forbes' face. — " Yes, it is very stupid of 
 you," he replied, pettishly, " when I have been set- 
 ting my heart upon pleasing you. The Duchess 
 of Lowther's notice may not do any literal good to 
 Katharine Ashton ; it may not be a matter of 
 pounds, shillings, and pence, and that I suppose is 
 what is to be understood by good ; but it is an 
 honour, that any girl in her position may be proud 
 of. What are you thinking of now ? " he added, 
 catching hold of Jane's hand, as with rather a grave 
 face she was turning away from him. Jane hesi- 
 tated. " What are you thinking of — I must know?" 
 he repeated. " Why, that you puzzle me," said Jane, 
 quickly, " and that you have puzzled me ever since 
 this odious ball was mentioned. You would not 
 F 3
 
 70 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 care whether the Duchess of Lowther noticed me." — 
 *' ISToticed you !" he repeated, starting from his seat 
 — " noticed my intended wife. I should not wish the 
 Queen to notice you : " — "Because your notice is a 
 sufficient honour," said Jane, playfully; " I am glad 
 you have so good an opinion of yourself." Colonel 
 Forbes looked a little annoyed. "You may put what 
 construction you please, Jane, upon my words," he 
 said ; " but surely you see the difference between a 
 person standing, as my wife must do, upon her own 
 ground, requiring no support, and a person like 
 Katharine Ashton, who is really nobody, and to 
 whom support is everything." — "But suppose we 
 differ upon the premises," said Jane, with a smile 
 Avhich had the effect of softening the frown upon 
 Colonel Forbes' face. " Suppose I think that Ka- 
 tharine Ashton has ground to stand upon as well 
 as myself, and that she does not require any more sup- 
 port." — " Then, my love, I think you are speaking 
 ignorantly, and know nothing about the constitution 
 of society." Jane Sinclair had a marvellous temper. 
 She might have spoilt a much better man than 
 Colonel Forl^es ; yet even she could not help feeling 
 a little hurt at the tone in which this was said ; but 
 she did not reply to it, she was too humble. And 
 how, indeed, could a man like Colonel Forbes be 
 faulty in her sight ? Clever, polished, handsome, 
 with high-sounding words at command, and de- 
 voting his life, as it seemed, to works of public 
 utility — above all, seen with eyes blinded by a first 
 affection — Jane could not doubt him. When they 
 differed she said to herself that it was the innate 
 difference between men and women which made 
 them view things differently. One question only 
 she asked now, and it was chiefly to turn the con- 
 versation — " why, if he had such an idea of the 
 good which it would do to bring all classes more
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 71 
 
 closely together, he objected to her going to the 
 Union Ball ?" " Because we keep our choicest trea- 
 sures screened from the common gaze," was the 
 answer; and the words fell so sweetly upon Jane's ear 
 that she forgot to inquire into their wisdom. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 *' So you and Kitty are going finery hunting this 
 afternoon, wife ? " said Mr. Ashton, as he sat down 
 to dinner with only his wife and daughter, about a 
 week after the first mention of the Union Ball. — 
 Mr. Ashton was in particularly good spirits : he had 
 just made a successful sale of some valuable books, 
 and he was upon the point of satisfying his hunger 
 with a roast duck, which happened to be one of 
 his weak points. It would have been strange if he 
 had not been pleased. " Miss Dyer has not much 
 left, I am afraid," replied Mrs. Ashton ; " Kitty 
 has been so long making up her mind whether she 
 will go to the ball." — " And she doesn't look very 
 bright about it now," continued Mr. Ashton. 
 " What in the world has come over you of late, 
 Kitty ? One would think by your face that you were 
 ninety instead of nineteen." — " Perhaps it is a pity 
 that I am not ninety," said Katharine, smiling ; " be- 
 cause if I were, I should not have to go to the ball, 
 and then there would be no cause to look grave. But, 
 father, I think you would be of my mind if you had 
 to dress yourself up in white muslin, and dance 
 about in a room with the Duchess of Lowther look- 
 ing at you." Mr. Ashton burst into a hearty fit 
 of laughter. " Well, child, it might be I should ; 
 but I don't see why you are to care for the Duchess 
 F 4
 
 72 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 of Lowther, or the Duchess of anything. Why, 
 hasn't one human being as good a right to dance 
 as another?" — "I should not care a bit for the 
 Duchess of Lowther here," said Katharine, — "in this 
 room I mean. If she were to come in this moment, 
 I could do my work, and talk about her business (if 
 she had any), and feel as good in my way as she is 
 in hers ; and I should not care a bit either in the 
 shop, if I was there ; but somehow, father, that 
 great room at the " Bear " is not like home, and I shall 
 not feel like myself when I have pink bows stuck 
 about me, and I shall think that the Duchess of 
 Lowther is laughing at me, which I know she 
 couldn't do here, because there would be nothing to 
 laugh at." — " I don't see what there will be to laugh 
 at there," said Mrs. Ashton, in a quick tone of antici- 
 pated anger ; " you had three quarters' dancing at 
 Miss Richardson's, and every one said you did very 
 well." — " And you danced away as merrily as a 
 Scotch lassie last year at our neighbour Carter's," 
 said Mr. Ashton. — " Because I knew every body 
 there," replied Katharine ; ^' and I was quite at home, 
 and it was great fun going down the country- 
 dance, but I don't know anything about new- 
 fashioned dancing ; and Selly says there will be 
 none but that at the ball, because it won't be gen- 
 teel." — "Well, then," said Mrs. Ashton, "if 
 you can't dance in the new way, Kate, you must 
 dance in the old, that's easily enough settled." — 
 "Only that the new-fashioned people will carry 
 it all their own way," said Katharine, " and 
 there will be only one band for us all." ]\Irs. Ashton 
 looked a little discomfited at this obvious objection, 
 and was contented^with murmuring that she did not 
 care a bit about the ball, but she did not like her 
 child to be different from other people. '' That is 
 just what John Carter was saying to me this
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 73 
 
 morning/' said Mr. Ashton. '' It is not," says lie, 
 " that one cares to go oneself, but one does care to be 
 put aside ; so honest John means to go." — " John 
 Carter at a ball ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ashton, " who 
 would have thought it " ! — " There '11 be many a 
 worse man there," said Mr. Ashton, " let them be 
 as high grandees as they may ; and I should just 
 like to see any of them looking down upon John 
 Carter ; as respectable a man as any in Rilworth, as 
 I heard Colonel Forbes declaring to-day. Give me 
 the leg of that duck, Mrs. Ashton, and Kate, child, 
 take the wing ; you are not eating anything to- 
 day." Katharine hesitated a moment, and then said 
 quietly : "I think, mother, the wing would be rather 
 nice for Jemmy Dawes, in Long Lane, and I could take 
 it there this afternoon. His arm hurts him a great 
 deal, and he doesn't eat much." — " Jemmy Dawes, 
 Kate!" exclaimed Mr. Ashton, "who is he?" 
 — "Only the child that was nearly run over the other 
 day," said Mrs. Ashton. "But Miss Sinclair looks 
 after him, Kate, and if you go there you won't 
 have time for Miss Dyer's." — " Only I thought, 
 mother," said Katharine, " that perhaps you would 
 go up to Miss Dyer's first, and look over the things, 
 and see what you like, and then I might come to 
 you afterwards. It isn't very far to Long Lane." — 
 "But you can't take a plate about the streets," said 
 Mr. Ashton ; " you will look as if you were coming 
 from an eating house." — " Which will be quite true," 
 said Katharine, gaily, " and all the more reason that 
 one should help others to eat. But, mother, you did 
 not mind when I carried the rice pudding to Mrs. 
 Carter, when she was ill." — " That was diiFerent," 
 said Mrs. Ashton, '' they are old friends; but I don't 
 see why, if Miss Sinclair is a district visitor, she is 
 not to take care of her own poor." — "It's her duty,'* 
 exclaimed Mr. Ashton ; " so finish your dinner, Kitty
 
 74 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 and let us have no more of this nonsense. What's 
 the use of my bringing you up to be a careful, 
 modest girl, not even letting you come into the 
 shop, if you are to go gadding about by yourself in 
 all the back lanes of Rilworth ? " — " You will make 
 yourself quite talked about by and by," echoed 
 Mrs. Ashton, assuming a courageous tone ; " to 
 my certain knowledge you have been down to 
 Long Lane twice this week." — '' But Long Lane is 
 not a very bad place, mother, is it ? " said Katha- 
 rine: "I am sure I have heard it is not as bad as 
 Pebble Street, and Betsey Carter goes there every 
 day of her life." — "' Betsey Carter is a good deal 
 older than you, Katharine," said Mrs. Ashton : she 
 alwas said "Katharine" when she wished to be pe- 
 culiarly emphatic. " And I don't want you to be 
 like Betsey Carter," continued Mr. Ashton, " and 
 that's more to the point. To my mind she is a set up 
 girl, always going to district meetings, or teachers' 
 meetings, or committees, and thinking herself a saint ; 
 and all the time only caring to get invited to drink 
 tea at the Eectory. That is not what I call reli- 
 gion. I like people to keep their station, and I 
 don't think there is any good done when they try to 
 go out of it, and I wonder, for my part, that Mr. 
 Reeves can bear it. I declare the way that girl 
 spoke to him the other day in my shop, was quite 
 a scandal ; just as if she was the person who knew 
 everything and he knew nothing. No good can 
 come of it, I'm sure. I have had a bad opinion of 
 District Societies, ever since I found how it took 
 people out of their proper place ; and I don't want 
 ever to see you having anything to do with them, 
 Kitty." 
 
 Katharine was silenced, but she did not eat the 
 wing of the duck. 
 
 Mr. Ashton stood a little moodily by the fire
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 75 
 
 when dinner was over. He had an uncomfortable 
 impression of the conversation. So also had Katha- 
 rine ; but Mrs. Ashton talked for both ; and as she 
 busied herself in giving a little help to the maid who 
 took away the dinner things, and assisting Katharine 
 infolding up the table-cloth and sweeping the crumbs 
 from the floor, lest her new carpet should be spoilt, 
 she discoursed upon things in general, and Miss 
 Dyer in particular. " It would be no good," she 
 said, " for her to go to Miss Dyer's alone ; she 
 shouldn't in the least be able to tell what to choose ; 
 not that she fancied indeed that Kate would know 
 much better ; she was never much given to dress ; 
 but of course if she was to wear tlie gown, it was 
 proper she should choose it." — " AVhy not go to 
 Selly Fowler, mother ?" said Kate in a tone of amuse- 
 ment : " she has been buying dresses for every one 
 she tells me — Matty and Susan Andrews, and the 
 youngest Miss Madden, and, — as she says, one of 
 the Miss Lanes, but that I don't quite believe, for she 
 does not know them w^ell enough." — " Well to be 
 sure, that is a good notion!" exclaimed Mrs. Ashton; 
 "not that I should like Selly to think we hadn't 
 just as good taste as she has, she is set up enough 
 without that ; but it might be as well to get a 
 notion of what she means to wear, that you 
 mightn't have the same." — " No fear of that," replied 
 Katharine, a little frightened, for she had spoken 
 hastily, and had no real idea of putting herself in 
 the power of Seiina's taste. "Selly means to wear 
 blue silk, and I am to have white muslin and pink 
 bows — you mustn't forget them. Fancy me, 
 father," she added, turning to her father, and laying 
 her hand playfully on his shoulder, " fancy me 
 done all over with pink bows — shan't I look like a 
 walking rose-tree ?" — "A cabbage-rose," said Mr. 
 Ashton, relaxing into a smile, as he patted her
 
 76 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 cheeks. " What a Woman you are grown, Kate, 
 this last year! and what a colour you've got in 
 your cheeks ! quite the colour for a painter, as 
 Colonel Forbes said to me this morning." Katha- 
 rine's colour became something deeper than that of 
 a cabbage-rose. " I will go with you, mother, to 
 choose the dress," she said, " and we need not ask 
 Selly anything about it. You know better than she 
 does what is good muslin and what is bad, and that 
 is the chief point." — " Yes; muslin will wash, that is 
 one good thing," said Mrs. Ashton, after thinking for 
 a moment ; "and if there were to come any other ball 
 this winter, you might trim it up with green, or 
 blue, and people wouldn't know it to be the same." 
 — " And if there weren't any more balls, it w^ould cut 
 up into something useful/' said Katharine; " I shan't 
 so much care if it is muslin, mother." — "But you 
 will want some other fineries, child," observed Mr. 
 Ashton. He had been paid for his books in ready 
 money — gold — it was heavy in his pocket, and he 
 was in a hurry to relieve himself from it. " Nothing 
 but the bows," said Katharine, kissing him, " they 
 will be fine enough for any one." — " Nonsense, 
 Kate," exclaimed Mr. Ashton, "you must have, 
 some ornaments. Why, there's Miss Selly will 
 come out like a jeweller's shop, and I don't choose to 
 have my girl looked down upon." — "There's her 
 grandmother's brooch, with the red garnet in the 
 middle and the blue stones round it," said Mrs. 
 Ashton. " I have heard say that the garnet is a 
 great beauty." — " G-randmother's fiddlestick ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Ashton. " Why, wife, you would have 
 the child look as if she had lived a hundred years 
 ago. What do you think Colonel Forbes, and the 
 Duchess of Lowther, and all the grandees would 
 say if they saw her with her grandmother's brooch 
 on ? " — " Just as much as they would say if they
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 77 
 
 saw me without it, father," said Katharine, laughing. 
 " But I should like," she added, as she caught the 
 disappointed expression of Mr. Ashton's face, — '* I 
 should like, father, to have something new and 
 pretty if I might ; if it would not cost very much, 
 and if there was a place for your hair, and mother's, 
 and John's in it." — " Well then ! if one must— you 
 girls are dreadfully extravagant ; but I suppose you 
 must have your way. There," — and he threw down 
 three sovereigns on the table, — "be off with you, and 
 don't trouble me any more with your follies." — " All 
 for myself, father ?" said Katharine, her eyes spark- 
 ling with delight. " Who else should it be for ? 
 Take it, child, and say thank you." — Katharine 
 threw her arms round him and gave him not a kiss 
 but a hug. Mr. Ashton withdrew himself from 
 her gently, ashamed of the weakness which made a 
 tear glisten in his eye. " Only one more word, 
 father," said Katharine, following him to the door 
 leading into the shop. " If the brooch should not 
 cost all that, might I have what is left for my own, 
 to do just as I like with ?" — " Dig a hole and bury 
 it if you like," was the reply ; "only run away now, 
 for there's the Duchess's carriage stopping." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Mother," said Katharine, as she came down 
 stairs dressed for walking, " I suppose it won't do 
 for me to carry that piece of duck to Long Lane, as 
 my father says he had rather not ? " — " You have 
 got your Sunday dress on," said Mrs. Ashton, 
 " why not let Susan carry it ?" — " I thought she 
 would be busy, putting away the dinner things,"
 
 78 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 replied Katharine, "so I did not like to ask ; but if 
 she might go?" — " To be sure, there are the dishes 
 to be washed up," pondered Mrs. Ashton : " let it stay 
 to-daj, Kitty ; your father may like the wing of the 
 duck for supper." — "I thought we could get him 
 some toasted cheese," replied Katharine ; " and the boy 
 is very weak, and I don't think he is likely to have 
 anything from Mrs. Sinclair's to-day, because Miss 
 Sinclair told me they were going into the country 
 for a visit, so there is not likely to be a dinner 
 dressed, except for the servants. We might go to 
 Miss Dyer's first, and come in for the duck after- 
 wards, if you liked, mother. He is a very nice 
 little boy," she added, " and he is Anne Crossin's 
 nephew." Mrs. Ashton was uncomfortably tender- 
 hearted. One reason why she never liked to hear 
 about her poor neighbours was that it made her 
 unhappy. She stood in the passage considering, 
 — moved to the door, came back again, and ex- 
 claimed, half angrily, " What a girl you are, Kitty, 
 for having your own way ! There, go and fetch a 
 basket, and let me take the duck myself, and hear 
 no more about it." — " Oh ! mother, I could not let 
 you do that." — " Why not, child ? it is not fifty 
 yards, and Susan must wash the dishes." — '•' Then 
 you will let me go too, and show you the house ; 
 my father can't be angry at that," said Katharine ; 
 and, not waiting for the permission, she ran off" to 
 the kitchen, where the remnants of the dinner were 
 lying on the dresser, searched the closets for a bas- 
 ket, seized the rauch-talked-of duck's wing, and 
 put it into a small plate, with the two remaining 
 potatoes, and covering the whole with a saucer, 
 and adding a tolerably large piece of bread, was 
 standing again at her mother's side before Mrs. 
 Ashton had at all made up her mind whether she 
 was not giving herself very unnecessary trouble.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 79 
 
 ** What a girl you are ! " was again Mrs. Ashton's 
 comment, " no sooner said than done." — " Well, 
 dear mother, and how else is one to get through 
 the world?" replied Katharine. She hung the 
 basket on her arm so as to be least noticed, and 
 they walked up the street together; Katharine 
 amused at having had her own way, and pleasing 
 herseir Avith tninking how the child would enjoy 
 liis dinner; Mrs. Ashton in a ceaseless fidget, 
 lest the gravy of the duck (of which, however, 
 there was a very small proportion) should somehow 
 or other get through the basket, and spoil Kitty's 
 best gown. Happily that thought so possessed her 
 mind, that she did not see Mrs. Fowler and Selina 
 on the opposite side of the street, and so was not 
 troubled with any fears as to their noticing the bas- 
 ket, and wondering where she was going. 
 
 Jemmy Dawes was left in the cottage alone, sit- 
 ting on a stool almost touching the dusty bars 
 of the little fire-place, — a happy circumstance for 
 Mrs. Ashton's sympathies. She had a great dread 
 of fire, and an idea that parents who allowed their 
 children to be in a room without a guard, were 
 quite answerable for murder. The first questions 
 which she put to the child were, what had become 
 of his aunt, and his grandmother, and his uncle, 
 and in fact, all his relations, and why they had 
 gone away from him, and what he would do if a 
 coal hopped out ; questions which if not tending 
 much to the child's ultimate safety, had the effect 
 of bringing out a good deal of the history of his 
 family, poverty, sickness, and sorrow ; dragged 
 forth, as it were, to light, from his simplicity. 
 Mrs. Ashton was much excited. " It was a shame," 
 she said," a downright shame, to leave a child of 
 that age ; not to set any one to watch him ; not 
 put up a guard ; not even to beg a neighbour to look
 
 80 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 in upon him ! But the poor were always so thought- 
 less ; really it seemed as if they hadn't the same 
 feelings as other folks. A fortunate thing it was for 
 the child that they had happened to come ; he might 
 have been burnt to death ten times over, for any 
 thing his aunt or his grandmother seemed to care ; 
 and so easily too ! " There, my man ! you will like 
 this, shan't you?" she said, uncovering the basket. 
 The little fellow raised his watery eyes to her with 
 a smile, but he did not say anything. " Don't you 
 think now, Kitty, he might as well eat it whilst we 
 are here, and then there will be no fear of his 
 tumbling into the fire at the same time ?" Katharine 
 did not precisely perceive the connection of the two 
 actions, but she was very willing to see that the poor 
 child had what they had brought for him, and that 
 it was not shared with a set of hungry cousins. 
 Mrs. Ashton peeped into a cupboard, and took out 
 a knife, and as no fork was to be found, she ma- 
 naged to cut off the meat from the bone by the 
 help of a knife and a tea spoon, praising herself as 
 she did so for having such a clever thought, and 
 looking at the boy from time to time with evident 
 satisfaction, as with hungry eyes he watched the 
 progress of his dinner preparations. Then she 
 made a table of a wooden chair, and moving the 
 child far enough away, as she said, from any hop- 
 ping coals, told him to begin and eat fast, lest any 
 one else should come in and want it. " I'se to say 
 grace first," said the boy, raising himself with diffi- 
 culty from his little seat. He stood up, and joined 
 his hands together, and repeated something quite 
 unintelligible. " Well ! that is odd," whispered 
 Mrs. Ashton to Kate, " who would have thought 
 it?" — "Did your aunt teach you to say grace, 
 Jemmy ? " asked Katharine. " No, it wasn't aunt, 
 it was the lady," said Jemmy, speaking with
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 81 
 
 his mouth so full that Katharine was obliged to 
 make him repeat the words. " Miss Sinclair, I 
 suppose," said Mrs. Ashton, in an under tone, 
 " these district ladies are always rather given to 
 Methodism." — " But it is quite right, mother," 
 said Katharine, " you know how careful you always 
 were to make John and me say grace when we were 
 children." — " Oh ! yes, quite right, only odd ; I 
 should have thought a lady like Miss Sinclair, going 
 to be married too, as they say, would have had 
 something else to think of than teaching a little 
 urchin like that to say grace." Katharine made 
 no answer ; her eye at the moment caught a streak 
 of blue sky gleaming through the dusky window pane, 
 and something crossed her mind — a feeling more 
 truly than a thought, which, if she had put it into 
 words, might have been a question whether the 
 nearest and dearest of earthly interests, even mar- 
 rying and giving in marriage, could really be placed 
 in importance above the work of training, even in 
 the slightest degree, an immortal soul for heaven. 
 
 " There, now we are out of that close lane, 
 and you can take my arm, Kate," said Mrs. Ashton, 
 as they turned into High Street together. " I shan't 
 want you to go there often, you'll catch a fever if 
 you do." Katharine did not urge the point, she 
 was satisfied that she had done her duty for the 
 day, and she did feel at the moment that the air in 
 the broad street was much more pleasant than that 
 in the little cottage. So they walked on, settling 
 where they should go first, and Katharine entering 
 much more into the pleasant prospect of her new 
 brooch, now that she had disposed to her satisfaction 
 of the wing of the duck. "I declare there is 
 George Andrews coming out of the " Bear " with 
 Colonel Forbes and Mr. Lane," said Mrs. Ashton. 
 " They have been having a talk about the room of 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 course. Let me see, it is those three windows to 
 the right which make the ball room, isn't it Kate ?" — 
 " Five windows, mother," replied Katharine ; " that 
 is, there is a partition between, which they take 
 down when they want it." — " Five windows ! well 
 that will hold a good heap. The more the mer- 
 rier, as my grandmother used to say when we sat 
 down five-and-twenty to roast goose and boiled beef 
 on Michaelmas Day. And there is Charlie Ronald- 
 son with them, what is he doing there I wonder?" — 
 " Nothing, I should think," said Katharine, looking 
 across the street. " You know, mother, he is going 
 somewhere to learn land surveying, but it is not 
 quite settled yet, and so till it is he has not any- 
 thing to do except what he makes for himself." — 
 "He is a very genteel young man," observed Mrs. 
 Ashton. " I sometimes think whether he wont cut 
 out John in Selly Fowler's good graces." — " No fear 
 of that," replied Katharine, as she watched more at- 
 tentively the group standing in front of the " Bear." 
 "He is too quiet a good deal for Selly. But do 
 look," she added, " how George Andrews is holding 
 forth. And Colonel Forbes listening as if George was 
 Prime Minister." "Is not that good now?" said 
 Mrs. Ashton. 
 
 George Andrews, a shrewd, low-browed, red- 
 haired young man, of about six-and-twenty, cer- 
 tainly was stating his opinion with an air of great 
 authority, lifting his fore-finger, and turning from 
 Colonel Forbes to Mr. Lane, and from Mr. Lane to 
 Colonel Forbes, wishing, it would seem, to convince 
 thera of some fact which apparently they were not 
 inclined to contradict. " What a great man George 
 has become since he has been on this ball com- 
 mittee !" observed Katharine, " a much greater than 
 Charlie Ronaldson ever was or ever will be. Great- 
 ness is not in his way." — " George has such a won-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 83 
 
 derful pushing way," observed Mrs. Ashton. " Yes," 
 replied Katharine, " as my father said to me the 
 other day, one would think he had been practising 
 all his life selling himself by auction. But mother, 
 see, they are moving away ; if we cross the street 
 now we shall be sure to meet them ; do let us wait." 
 No ; that was not in Mrs. Ashton's way ; she was 
 not at all inclined to let slip such an opportunity of 
 hearing all that had been said or done about the 
 ball, and Katharine's observation only had the eifect 
 of so quickening her movements that, in her haste 
 to be on the opposite side of the way before the 
 gentlemen had gone by, she put herself in danger of 
 being run over by a baker's cart. " How d'ye do ? 
 How d'ye do ?" was her salutation to George, accom- 
 panied by a pause which he could not but notice, 
 and he stopped and spoke, though it cut short some- 
 thing he was saying to Mr. Lane. Mr. Lane and 
 Mrs. Ashton did not know each other, Mr. Lane 
 therefore walked on. Colonel Forbes moved as if 
 he meant to do the same, and then, as with a sudden 
 recollection of duty, he paused : "Mrs. Ashton, lam 
 so glad to have the opportunity of seeing you. I 
 hope your husband told you what I was saying to 
 you this morning. Miss Ashton, I trust w€ shall 
 have the pleasure of seeing you at the ball on the 
 15th." — "My daughter is very much honoured, I 
 am sure," said Mrs. Ashton, with a half-bow half- 
 curtsey, and her really handsome face was radiant 
 as a sunbeam. Katharine neither bowed nor curt- 
 sied, but said, " Thank you, sir, I think I am 
 going." — " And you will come early, I hope," said 
 the Colonel, " we don't want to make it a very late 
 business. The Duchess does not fancy very late 
 hours, and we must have supper about eleven ; that 
 is, if our friend Mr. Andrews can be brought to 
 consent." — " Twelve, Colonel, not one moment 
 
 G 2
 
 84 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 earlier, if you want to do what people like," said 
 George. " Nobody will get into the fun of dancing 
 before eleven, and if you break it up then, the thing 
 will go off flat." — " Well, then, we must have a little 
 private supper for the Duchess and her party at any 
 hour her Grace pleases. You won't object to that, 
 Mrs. Ashton. Miss Ashton, I dare say you are of 
 Mr. Andrews' opinion, and don't like the thought 
 of having your dance broken up too soon." — " I don't 
 know, sir," replied Katharine, "I should think 
 everybody would like best to do what the Duchess 
 of Lowther wishes, if she means to be there." — "Very 
 courteous," said the Colonel, with a patronising 
 smile, "'but unfortunately every one else is not 
 inclined to be equally amiable. But we shall make 
 a compromise, I dare say. Mr. Andrews, we shall 
 meet, I suppose, to-morrow — good afternoon. Good 
 afternoon, Mrs. Ashton;" he half put out his hand 
 to shake hands with Katharine ; but she either did 
 not or would not see it, and he bowed and walked 
 away. "Now that is what I call upholding the 
 people'^s rights," exclaimed George Andrews, strok- 
 ing his red whiskers complacently, and looking 
 round for applause. "If a ball is to be a Union 
 Ball, as Colonel Forbes calls it, v/hy is the Duchess 
 of Lowther, or the Duchess of anything to be con- 
 sulted?" — " Only because she will be the person of 
 most importance in the room," observed Katharine. 
 "Pooh !" replied George, rather unceremoniously, 
 as he gave his hat a little self-conscious shake ; " at 
 a Union Ball nobody is of importance but the 
 stewards. I have been saying that to the Colonel for 
 the last half hour. 'Just see. Colonel,' said I, 
 ' what will be the effect of the eleven o'clock supper ; 
 
 there w^ill be,'" He was stopped in his speech by 
 
 Mrs. Ashton. "But I thought it was all settled, 
 Mr. George, and that the Duchess was to have her
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 85 
 
 supper alone, if she liked it, and every one else after- 
 wards." — "It won't do, it won't do," replied George 
 oracularly, " take my word for it, it won't. If the 
 Duchess can't come and behave like other people, 
 she had much better stay away. She will give 
 offence, as sure as fate she will." — " Then it will 
 be very unkind in people who take offence," said 
 Katharine. " Why is not the Duchess to have her 
 way as well as we ours ?" — " Because she is one and 
 we are many," replied George ; and he drew himself 
 up with an air which betokened that he had settled 
 the question entirely to his own satisfaction. " She 
 only wants to have supper alone," persisted Katha- 
 rine, "that won't trouble us." — " I beg your pai-don, 
 Miss Ashton, my time is precious, I can't stay to 
 argue the point." George Andrews gave a con- 
 temptuous farewell nod, and hurried away. 
 
 " If the Duchess is to be nobody at the ball, why 
 should they make such a fuss about her having 
 supper with every one?" said Katharine, as she 
 and her mother walked slowly on towards Miss 
 Dyer's. She had spoken almost as much to herself 
 as to her mother, but her words were answered by 
 a third person, Charles, or, as he was commonly 
 called, Charlie Ronaldson; the son of a man who had 
 formerly been bailiff to the Duke of Lowther, but 
 who, from various ftimily misfortunes, had lost large 
 sums during his lifetime, and at his death left his 
 only boy to make his way in the world by himself. 
 When Mrs. Ashton had described Charles Ronald- 
 son as a " genteel young man," she did not mean 
 that he was a fashionable gentleman, he did not look 
 like one ; but he did look that which was far better 
 — a man of intelligence and thought, and honourable 
 feelings, with that simplicity of mind, the result of 
 humility and self-respect, which, unconsciously to 
 its possessor, refines and dignifies the general 
 
 G 3
 
 86 KATHAPwIXE ASHTOX, 
 
 character and manner. He was a shy person, — 
 very shy ; it was rarely he found himself in an 
 element that suited him, and so it was rarely that 
 he found himself sufficiently at ease to talk. And 
 he was a lonely man, with no brothers or sisters, 
 his father dead, his relations for the most part at a 
 distance. He had been educated at a good grammar 
 school, thanks to the Duke of Lowther's bounty ; 
 since then he had been a good deal at home with 
 his mother, whilst practising farming on the Duke's 
 estate ; now he was going to apply himself to land- 
 surveying, as Katharine had said, — still helped by 
 the same hand. He was not too proud to begin 
 life under an obligation, but the sense of it made 
 him feel his position peculiar. He had no money to 
 spend in amusements as other young men did — he 
 had no capital upon which to calculate the chances 
 of business, and raise up castles in futurity; all 
 that was to be done was to be the result of hard 
 head labour; and this for the present was his only 
 thought, — how to work so as to place himself in a 
 position where he might no longer be a burden to 
 his benefactor. It was rather a careworn idea for 
 a young man just entering the world; and, com- 
 bined with his early sorrows, poverty and the loss of 
 his father, it had sobered him ; not made him melan- 
 choly, not robbed him of hope or the power of 
 enjoyment, but sobered him; so that he looked at 
 life as a man many years older than himself — for he 
 was only three-and-twenty — might have done, and 
 this gave him a quietness of manner which ^Yas 
 generally considered the most remarkable point 
 about him. " That shy fellow, Ronaldson," was 
 the epithet by which he was most generally known, 
 and by which Katharine had frequently heard him 
 described. She was not prepared therefore for his 
 venturing to walk up the street a few paces by her
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 87 
 
 side, and even reply to her remark, though she 
 had seen him lingering behind George Andrews 
 during their short conversation, and noticed that he 
 turned in the same direction as themselves. She quite 
 started when he said, very awkwardly, as if he was 
 scolding himself for the liberty he was taking : — 
 Miss Ashton, " I don't think people do consider the 
 Duchess of Lowther nobody." 
 
 " I don't for one," replied Katharine, trying not to 
 smile at the odd way in which he turned round to 
 glance at her, and then looked across to the other 
 side of the street, apparently not in the least caring 
 whether she answered him or not. " And I don't 
 think it ever was intended that we should think her 
 nobody, do you ?" he continued. He was a little less 
 shy at the second observation, and actually kept his 
 face towards her whilst listening to the answer. 
 " No, replied Katharine, " Why should she be called 
 Duchess, if she is to be nobody ?" — " But, my dear 
 Kitty, you don't understand," interrupted Mrs. 
 Ashton. '' You did not hear what George Andrews 
 said. It is only at the ball — at this Union Ball — 
 that we are not to have distinction ; and, upon second 
 thought, I must say I have a notion he may be right. 
 I should not care myself, but there's many I know 
 who will think it a great offence if the Duchess 
 does not sit down to supper ; the Dobsons for one. 
 I heard Martha Dobson say myself yesterday, that 
 half the fun at the ball would be making one with 
 the grandees." — "Well," said Katharine, as if she 
 was tired of the subject, "I don't see how it is to be 
 settled ; all I know is, that I never think that 
 
 people are all one, except " She stopped for an 
 
 instant. " Except when ?" asked Charles Donaldson, 
 and his hand was put forth, and then taken back, 
 and then put forth again. He wanted her to see 
 that he was going to say good-bye. " Except when 
 
 G 4
 
 88 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 they are in church," said Katharine, and she took 
 the shy fingers in hers, and gave them a cordial 
 shake. His face brightened up, and he said energe- 
 tically, "Perhaps it is a pity that we are not always 
 in church." — " Perhaps so," said Katharine. " Good 
 bye." She did not quite know what he meant ; but 
 they were close to Miss Dyer's shop, and she wanted 
 to get rid of him. " It is bad beginning to talk to 
 Charlie Ronaldson," she said laughingly to her 
 mother, as they went in ; "he never has courage 
 to leave off." — "But he is a good young man though," 
 observed Mrs. Ashton ; " I like Charlie very much, 
 only I wish he would learn to look one in the face." 
 Katharine wished the same -, that awkward habit of 
 looking away whenever he addressed any one, took 
 off all, or nearly all, the pleasure she had in talking 
 to him. She never knew whether he was listening 
 to her or not. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Clear muslin, of course, Mrs. Ashton," said 
 Miss Dyer, leading the way into the show-room, 
 "and broad tucks." — "Yes, if it's the fashion. I 
 should like it to be quite the fashion." — "Broad 
 tucks is just the thing," replied Miss Dyer ; " broad 
 tucks, with a narrow edge of ribbon round the top ; 
 that's what we've just made for two or three ladies. 
 I am sure you would like broad tucks with pink, 
 Miss Katharine, or blue would look very pretty." — 
 " I don't think it wants any ribbon," observed Ka- 
 tharine ; " and, mother, I should not like to be ex- 
 actly the same as any one else." — " Then pink on 
 the shoulders and round the body would be ex-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 89 
 
 tremely nice," continued the dress-maker, producing 
 a roll of rather narrow pink ribbon, and folding it 
 no as not to crease it. " That would be quite dif- 
 ferent from everybody, and you might have a pink 
 sash and streamers to match ; or, if you chose, pink 
 satin bows down the dress ; but in that case you 
 must have a full skirt and no tucks. I can show 
 you some beautiful patterns," and she opened the 
 last number of the Dress Magazine, containing sim- 
 pering ladies in all varieties of costume, and bodiless 
 dresses of every newly-invented pattern. Katha- 
 rine was not in the least bewildered ; she had made 
 up her mind before she came what her dress was to 
 be, and she kept to her own taste. " I would rather 
 not have more pink than I can help, mother," she 
 said ; " and I should like," she added, turning to 
 Miss Dyer, " to have my dress quite plain, with a folded 
 cape like this," and she pointed to one in the maga- 
 zine ; " and I should choose to have it full, without 
 tucks ; and that broad pink ribbon will do very well 
 for a sash, with a bow and ends in front. Mother, 
 dear, that will please you, won't it ? You know 
 all that narrow trimming will take a great deal, and it 
 must be unripped every time the dress is washed, 
 and so it will give a great deal of trouble." — " Just 
 as you like, Kitty," said Mrs. Ashton, with a slight 
 accent of disappointment. " The pink round the tail 
 would smarten up the dress ; but, as you say, it must 
 be unripped when the frock's washed, so have it 
 your own way; only do let it be a fashionable make. 
 Miss Dyer." — " Oh, depend upon it, Mrs. Ashton — 
 depend upon it ; — Miss Kate's first ball, and the 
 Duchess to be there, and Lady Marchmont, and Lady 
 Julia, — depend upon it, it shall be quite fashionable. 
 Miss Katharine, if you please, T will just take your 
 measure." That was an ordeal Katharine was not 
 quite prepared for; she generally made her own
 
 90 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 dresses, and she thought it very disagreeable to be 
 turned and twisted about like a doll^ and measured 
 in length and breadth, and covered with thin white- 
 brown paper, cut and slit, and pinned together. 
 And Miss Dyer seemed never weary of giving 
 gashes with her large scissors, and taking pins out of 
 her mouth, and placing them in an ominous vicinity 
 to Katharine's neck. And her mother was not likely 
 to be weary either, for she was going round the room 
 all the time, examining the caps hanging upon the 
 mahogany stands ; so there seemed no prospect of 
 an end. But it came at last ; and Katharine put 
 on her dark shawl and straw bonnet, and thought 
 how much more comfortable and at home she felt 
 in them than she ever should in the white muslin. 
 " White kid gloves, Miss Katharine ? " said Miss 
 Dyer, just as Kthaharine had laid her finger on the 
 handle of the door. *' Oh, yes, I forgot." Katharine 
 spoke a little impatiently, and Miss Dyer laughed, 
 and said : " it was not many young girls of Miss 
 Katharine's age thatwould be fussed at having to buy 
 ball things. There was Miss Fowler and Miss Mad- 
 den, they had been a good two hours settling it all." 
 — " And did not content themselves after all, I dare 
 say," said Katharine. " Those gloves are my size. 
 Miss Dj^er ; please will you put them up, and I 
 will take them with me." The gloves were put up, 
 and Katharine ran gaily down the stairs, turning 
 back, however, to whisper to her mother, who was 
 still lingering and looking back at the caps, " Mo- 
 ther, dear, let me make your cap ; you know mine 
 suit you better than any, and I got a notion of a new 
 trimming whilst I was being * tried on/ " 
 
 They went next to the jeweller's. Katharine 
 liked that much better than the dressmaker's. She 
 had long wished for a brooch with her father, 
 and mother, and brothers' hair in it ; but she had
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTOJ^. 91 
 
 never had courage to ask for it, it seemed such a 
 foohsh expense. Now her father himself wished 
 her to spend the money, so she had no scruples. 
 Several persons were in the shop, and they had to 
 wait some time before they were attended to, and 
 this gave Katharine an opportunity of examining 
 all the brooches under the glass counter, and making 
 up her mind what she should choose. Mrs. Ashton 
 stood by her touching her elbow every now and 
 then. "Look at that blue one, Kate, that's a 
 beauty, and that gold one with the red stone ; why it's 
 nearly as large as your grandmother's garnet, but 
 I don't like it as well, do you ?" Katharine disliked 
 blue stones, and was not very fond of red ones, but 
 she did not wish to discuss them, for the Miss Mad- 
 dens and Miss Lane were in the shop, giving orders 
 for some hair bracelets, and she was quite sure that 
 the youngest Miss Madden, who was a great gossip, 
 was listening to all she and her mother were saying. 
 " Why, Katharine, what are you doing here ? " she 
 heard some one behind her exclaim in a noisy voice 
 just as the shopman had found time to attend to 
 her. "How do you do, Selina?" replied Katharine 
 very quietly, giving her hand without answering 
 the question. " 1 like that plain gold one best," she 
 added, addressing her mother in a low voice, " be- 
 cause I can wear it always, and it has such a good 
 place for hair." Selina looked over her shoulder, 
 " Choosing brooches, I declane. Well ! who would 
 have thought that?" — "Choosing what?" asked 
 Miss Julia Madden, coming up to Selina. Katharine 
 could not help hearing her, neither could she avoid 
 noticing that Selina walked away directly to the 
 other end of the shop, and that both began laughing. 
 "Mother, do you mind ray having the plain brooch?" 
 she continued. "No, not exactly, if you wish it; 
 but, Kitty, do look at Miss Lane's brooch j that one
 
 92 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 she laid down on the counter just now to have a pin 
 put to it." It was a handsome sapphire brooch. 
 Katharine admired it very much, but it did not 
 make her discontented with her own selection. " It 
 is not like a common stone at all," she whispered, 
 " I dare say it cost a great deal of money, and if it 
 did, such a one would not suit me. It is the place 
 for hair I want most, and besides, I should never 
 scarcely wear anything so bright as that." — " You 
 have such an odd taste, Kitty," said her mother. 
 "I declare your new brooch won't be half as smart 
 as your grandmother's garnet. If it wasn't for the 
 old-fashioned setting you had better wear that at the 
 ball after all." Mrs. Ashton's voice was unfortu- 
 nately loud, and as, in her simplicity, she was not 
 conscious of often saying things which other people 
 should not hear, she seldom took the trouble to 
 lower it. The speech was followed by a very 
 audible giggle from Selina Fowler and Miss Julia 
 Madden, checked by a hush from INIiss Madden, 
 and a threatening look from Miss Lane. Katharine 
 heard the latter say, "really those girls are too 
 bad," and Miss Madden went up to her sister and 
 reproved her, but the giggling went on very much 
 as before. Katharine tried not to think about it, 
 but she could not help being annoyed, especially 
 with Selina. She wished her mother would make 
 haste and decide, but Mrs. Ashton could not yet 
 give up her wish for something smart, and insisted 
 upon turning over the brooches again before the 
 choice should be finally made. Katharine sat down 
 patiently on the only unoccupied stool ; other people 
 came into the shop and the shopman moved away. 
 " Mrs. Reeves," whispered Mrs. Ashton, putting 
 her head close to her daughter's, and pretending to 
 be examining the same ornament. Katharine slightly 
 moved her head, and saw behind her a lady about
 
 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX. 93 
 
 six-and-thirty years of age, quiet in manner, very 
 sensible looking, and not at all pretty. She was 
 standing patiently whilst Miss Lane gave some last 
 orders. Katharine rose and offered her seat. Mrs. 
 Reeves did not look at all strong, and, besides, she 
 was the clergyman's wife. The offer was not 
 accepted, but the tone in which Mrs. Reeves said, 
 " thank you," was very cordial and kind, and she 
 recognised Mrs. Asliton, and asked how she was, 
 and inquired whether Mr. Ashton had lately been 
 suffering from gout ; and then Mrs. Ashton pointed 
 out Katharine as her daughter, and Mrs. Reeves 
 shook hands with her, not at all as Colonel Forbes 
 might have done, but with the pleasant friendly 
 manner of interest and kindheartedness. 
 
 She spoke to Miss Lane also, and they talked 
 together of some mutual friend ; and the Miss Mad- 
 dens and Selina Fowler bowed to her, and Mrs. 
 Reeves returned the bow rather distantly. Katharine 
 observed that the loud talking and giggling ceased 
 when Mrs. Reeves came in ; perhaps Selina and her 
 friend were ashamed of it — perhaps they were more 
 occupied in watching what Mrs. Reeves did, for 
 they turned round with their backs to the counter and 
 looked at her, and Katharine felt a little comforted 
 by this ; she saw they could be rude to the clergy- 
 man's wife as well as to her. " May we go, mother? " 
 she asked, when Mrs. Ashton had completed her 
 inspection ; " I don't think I shall see anything I 
 like better." Mrs. Ashton pointed to a turquoise 
 brooch. "I could not wear that every day, dear 
 mother, and there is no place for hair." — " Well, as 
 you wish, child. Here, Mr. Green, put up this 
 gold brooch, will you ?" — "And let me pay for it," 
 said Katharine; "two pounds it is,I think." — " Two 
 pounds, Miss Ashton; shall I put it in a box for 
 you?"— "Thank you, if you will."— "I shall be
 
 94 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 quite rich besides," she added to her mother, as she 
 took out her purse and laid the money on the 
 counter. 
 
 She spoke this without hesitation ; for she was 
 quite sure that Mrs. Reeves was not listening to 
 her ; and equally sure that, if she did overhear any 
 remark, she would not repeat it and laugh at it. 
 But though Mrs. Reeves might not hear what 
 Katharine said, Katharine could not help hearing 
 what Mrs. Reeves said ; for she was talking to Miss 
 Lane and Mr. Green, and telling them of a case of 
 distress in consequence of a fire, for which Mr. 
 Reeves was wishing to raise a general subscription. 
 She was very eager in what she said ; and Mr. Green 
 was very civil, and bowed, and hoped such charitable 
 efforts would be crowned with success ; and Miss 
 Lane was full of the deepest sympathy, and only 
 trusted that dear Mrs. Reeves would not exert her- 
 self too much. Mr. Green, too, was extremely 
 willing — anxious, indeed — to have the subscription 
 papers placed in his shop ; and Miss Lane said she 
 should be most happy to give her trifle, when she 
 knew what other people meant to give. Rut Mrs. 
 Reeves did not appear to advance much farther than 
 this ; and Katharine really felt for her, she looked 
 so awkward, and uncomfortable, and disappointed. 
 She lingered, hoping that Mrs. Reeves might speak 
 to her or her mother upon the subject ; but nothing 
 M-as said. Mrs. Reeves only bowed as they moved 
 away. " I shall remember it, though," thought 
 Katharine to herself, " and I can ask Miss Sinclair 
 about it." Five shillings were put aside in her 
 mind instantly : it was but little, but it seemed in a 
 measure to hallow the rest of her riches.
 
 K^^.THAKINE ASHTOX. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Colonel Forbes flattered himself that he was 
 winning golden opinions, as he planned, and con- 
 sulted, and arranged for the ball ; and every day he 
 went to report progress to Mrs. Sinclair ; and Jane 
 at last became so interested, that she felt quite an 
 inclination to go, and was half-provoked when all 
 her suggestions as to its being right and proper were 
 met with a decided " my love, it is my wish." She 
 had no one, indeed, to support her, for Mrs. Sinclair 
 was of the same mind with Colonel Forbes, though 
 not, perhaps, from the same cause. Mrs. Sinclair 
 was a little Oid-fashioned in her notions — perhaps, 
 also a little proud ; she could understand, she said, 
 the pleasure of a dance given by a landlord to his 
 tenants — there was something of the old feudal 
 spirit in it — a mutual tie of protection and respect ; 
 but a ball, when there was no one to guide, and no 
 one to look up to, and every one's will was in a 
 measure his law, was only to be made agreeable by 
 the conventional forms of good society. If the 
 persons who met at the ball had not been accus- 
 tomed to the same kind of society, their conventional 
 forms must differ, and jarrings and disunions must 
 be the result. Colonel Forbes did not care to dis- 
 pute the point — one reason was as good as another 
 for him ; — he did not choose Jane to go ; and so 
 long as he had her mother's support he did not 
 trouble himself as to why it was given. He did 
 wish, though, that Jane would throw herself more 
 into his notions as to the mode of making friends 
 with the townspeople. He had told her about the 
 invitation given to Mr. Ashton, and about meeting 
 Katharine in the street and offering to shake hands
 
 96 KATHAEINE ASHTOX. 
 
 with her ; and all Jane said in reply was : " I dare 
 say Katharine did not understand what you meant." 
 " You are making mysteries," he replied ; " I can 
 see nothing beyond any person's comprehension in 
 
 the act of shaking hands, " Only that, generally 
 
 speaking, it implies a certain amount of intimacy 
 and friendship," said Jane. " And I intend to be 
 friendly," answered Colonel Forbes. — " But friend- 
 liness and friendship are different things, continued 
 Jane, "friendship you feel, I have no doubt," she ad- 
 ded, laughing," so far that you would not murder poor 
 Katharine; but if she were to leave Rilworth to-mor- 
 row, you would not trouble yourself with a second 
 thought about her." — " No reason, dear child, why I 
 should not be kind to her as long as she remains 
 here," was the answer. — " Oh ! yes, kind — of course, 
 kind, if she requires kindness ; but the truth is, that 
 I can never get into my head that Katharine requires 
 
 anything except " " What ? " — " Respect," said 
 
 Jane, timidly. Colonel Forbes looked puzzled ; 
 but he sat down by Jane, and drew her towards 
 him, and kissed her forehead in a kind of paternal 
 fashion. He was especially fond of her when she 
 was a little afraid of him. — "Such a very odd 
 child!" he said; and he held her hand and stroked 
 it as he would a child's ; " and such very odd 
 notions.! — How am I to respect people I know 
 nothing about?" — " I think we may respect every 
 one in manner," said Jane ; — " poor people and 
 every one. And what I think very often prevents 
 our doing so, is, that they don't respect themselves : 
 but Katharine Ashton does respect herself." — 
 "How? — explain a little more." He was just the 
 very least in the world sharp in his tone. " She 
 respects her own position is life,— that is what I 
 mean. She respects it as much as we do ours. " She 
 is not trying to move out of it and above it." —
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 97 
 
 "Quite riglit, — she could not if she wished it.*' — 
 " Then I don't think," continued Jane, " that we can 
 do her any good, or give her any pleasure by behaving 
 to her as if she did wish it. Young-lady politenesses 
 are not, I think, what she wants." — " Shaking hands, 
 and so forth," said Colonel Forbes, laughing ; for he 
 liked to hear Jane bring forth her opinions, — she did 
 it so prettily and deferentially, and argument gave 
 her just the animation she required to brighten 
 her soft eyes. " Take care you never shake hands 
 with her yourself, Jane." — "My shaking hands would 
 be a different thing from yours," said Jane. " I 
 should do it because I liked her ; and you would do 
 it because " — she stopped ; — "I Avas going to say, 
 because you wished her to like you, but that would 
 not be correct. You don't care in the least for 
 Katharine Ashton's liking or disliking you, but you 
 do care for Mr. Ashton's daughter liking you, because 
 that involves influence with Mr. Ashton himself. 
 Oh, Philip!" It was so very, very rarely that Jane 
 ventured upon the Christian name — Colonel Forbes 
 would have willingly endured a lecture of a very 
 different kind for tlie pleasure of hearing it. 
 
 He could not argue with her any more, — he did 
 not at the moment care enough about that subject, 
 about any subject but one : repeating her words in a 
 low tone, he said, earnestly, " Oh, Philip ! —that was 
 a very pleasant sound : when shall I be blessed by 
 hearing it hourly ? " The crimson colour dyed Jane's 
 cheeks. " My mother begged for three months," she 
 said, " and more than two are gone. Shall it be this 
 day three weeks — the fifteenth ?" — there was a long 
 pause, — he turned avvayas if unable tobearthe delay. 
 But the answer came — "The fifteenth, if you will." 
 The words were scarcely audible, and her eyes were 
 dimmed by glistening tears. It was a very painful 
 happiness. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 But the day was fixed, and Colonel Forbes' mind 
 was at rest. Uncertainty was worse for him than 
 for most people ; his disposition was so imperious, 
 so impatient of opposition. Mrs. Sinclair saw tliis, 
 and sighed. Jane saw it, and thought how he 
 loved her ! The preparations for the wedding were 
 to be very quiet ; not so the preparations for the 
 ball. It wanted now but four days, and yet nothing 
 seemed ready. The question of the Duchess's 
 supper was still undecided, but Colonel Forbes had 
 given up insisting upon it. It was left, like a good 
 many other things in this world, to take its chance. 
 So, however, could not be left the important arrange- 
 ments of lights and music, benches and evergreens, 
 about which there had been at first as many varying 
 opinions as there were members of the committee. 
 Some, who like George Andrews, made it a rule to 
 consult the people, had at first opposed every 
 thing which Colonel Forbes suggested, on the prin- 
 ciple that the Colonel represented the aristocratic 
 interest, and in a democratic Union Ball no such in- 
 fluence could of course be permitted. The Colonel 
 had been obliged to fight every inch of his way to the 
 attainment of his favourite points — namely, orna- 
 menting the wall simply with evergreens, instead of 
 masses of artificial flowers — having a very good band 
 from the county town, instead of a very bad one 
 from Rilworth, — and lighting the room with wax 
 candles, instead of oil lamps. But he did gain the 
 victory at last, and when every one else was tired out, 
 — and Mr. Lane, the solicitor, had found out that 
 balls w^ere expensive in time as well as money, — 
 and Mr. Henry Madden had taken offence because 
 George Andrews quizzed him, — and Mr. John Price, 
 the banker's son, who had just been taken into part- 
 nership with his father, had been made aware that he 
 was considered a greater oracle at the cricket-club
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 99 
 
 than at the committee-room of the "■Bear," — and 
 two or three others, who had never attended at all, 
 except to find fault, had discovered that they were 
 exhausted with their labours, then Colonel Forbes 
 stepped quietly into their place, and with the help 
 of George Andrews, managed every thing his own 
 way. It was very cleverly done. The arrangements 
 had been discussed so often, and the colonel had so 
 continually deferred to the general opinion, one day, 
 and the next re-opened the same questions with fresh 
 doubts, that no one could tell where or how they left, 
 and so each took it for granted they were settled ac- 
 cording to his wish. There was not one member of 
 the committee who did not believe that on his judg- 
 ment and his vote entirely depended the success of 
 the ball, — and neither was there one, except George 
 Andrews, who was at all aware that every indivi- 
 dual point which had been discussed in the com- 
 mittee-room had been re-discussed, and re-settled 
 by the will of Colonel Forbes. — '* Let them think 
 they have their wish," said Colonel Forbes one day 
 to Jane, whilst laughing with her over the changes 
 he had taken upon himself to make : "it is much 
 safer, and makes them just as happy as having the 
 wish itself." George Andrews, indeed, was not to 
 be so deceived, but then Colonel Forbes did not 
 attempt to deceive him. Vulgar and self-opiniated 
 though he was, he was the only individual of the 
 committee who possessed more than a moderate 
 portion of quickness and common sense; and Colonel 
 Forbes had seized upon him, and as he could not 
 work without him, had forced himself to work with 
 him. AYhen the last week before the ball arrived, 
 George Andrews was heartily one with Colonel 
 Forbes, — lured by a good deal of open flattery, a 
 few good-humoured laughs at the expense of his 
 
 H 2
 
 100 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 neighbours, a discreet yielding upon points wliicli 
 M'ere not of the least consequence, and above all a 
 frequent use of the pronouns " us " and " we." 
 
 " What trouble Forbes takes about these people 
 and their ball," said Lord Marchraont, one day to 
 his father, when Colonel Forbes had been taking 
 luncheon at Rilworth Castle ; " who would have 
 given him credit for it ? " The Duke smiled, and 
 pointed to the parliamentary list. The Duke was 
 a man of observation. He knew more of Colonel 
 Forbes' mind than Colonel Forbes himself, for the 
 idea of standing for the borough was as yet only in 
 embryo. 
 
 Reports of progress were duly brought to Katha- 
 rine Ashton l)y Selina Fowler, for Selina was the 
 dear friend of Matty Andrews, and Matty of course 
 heard every thing from head-quarters. Katharine 
 did not disdain tlie information. She had not 
 quarrelled with Selina because she had been rude, 
 and she did not intend to quarrel. She did not 
 respect Selina sufficiently to be offended at any- 
 thing she might do, and she never forgot that it was 
 more than probable she might one day be her 
 sister-in-law. They met as very good friends, and 
 Katharine showed her brooch when she was asked 
 for it, and said it was her father's present. There 
 was no mystery in the case, and she did not think it 
 necessary to make any, — and this baffled Selina, 
 and her curiosity, and her love of gossip, more than 
 anything. 
 
 Katharine looked forward to the ball with a good 
 deal of pleasurable excitement as it drew near, 
 though she had cared so little about it when it was 
 lirst talked about. Her fatlier and John took 
 an interest in it— that was one great point; and her 
 mother liked the idea of meeting her friends, and 
 having a pleasant talk ; and though Katharine
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 101 
 
 could not conquer ber sense of the unfitness of a 
 party which was to include the Duchess of Lowther, 
 and herself, and Martha Dobson, she still allowed 
 that she should like to watch the Duchess, and see 
 how she behaved. 
 
 The day before the ball Jane Sinclair came to 
 see her. They had met frequently of late on little 
 matters of business connected with Jane's district, 
 and the first feeling of mutual liking, that remnant 
 of school-days, had increased rapidly. Jane could 
 not help seeing that Katharine was, in taste, though 
 not in cultivation of mind, more congenial to her 
 own ideas of what was superior and right-minded, 
 than many whom she met in society, calling them- 
 selves ladies ; and Katharine looked upon Jane with 
 as much of romantic admiration as was compatible 
 with her natural character. Still the intercourse 
 between them w^as chiefly matter-of-fact : they 
 talked about the poor and the parish, and a little of 
 Katharine's family ; but Jane often lingered in the 
 back parlour longer than was absolutely necessary, 
 and Katharine sometimesfound herself saying things 
 to Miss Sinclair which she did not think any one 
 else would have understood. Katharine was wishing 
 to see Jane now to speak to her about the subscrip- 
 tion for the family who had suffered from the fire. 
 She waited some time to see what her father would 
 give ; but Mr. Ashton would not allow his name to 
 be put down for more than half a crown, because. 
 Mr. Madden did not offer more. Katharine could 
 not therefore give her donation openly, but she 
 thought that Jane would take it to Mrs. Reeves for 
 her, and that would do as well. 
 
 There was a change in Jane since last they met : 
 Katharine noticed it, or rather felt it. Her visit was 
 very short, and she was more shy, more veiled, as it 
 II 3
 
 102 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 were, and her words were not uttered as freely : they 
 seemed less the natural expression of her thoughts. 
 There was no change in kindness, but Jane was no 
 longer living in any degree in Katharine's world, and 
 Katharine might have felt the difference and been 
 pained at it, but that as they parted, Jane stood for 
 a second holding her hand, and blushing deeply said : 
 "Katharine, I am to be married on the fifteenth." 
 — " Married ! Oh, Miss Sinclair, I wish you such 
 happiness ! " Katharine's voice was nearly choked, 
 and her hand trembled with affectionate eagerness. 
 Jane returned the warm pressure more gently, yet 
 with even greater tenderness. " Thank you. I was 
 sure you would feel wnth me. Please not to mention 
 it to any one." They parted. Jane to watch for 
 Colonel Forbes, and count the minutes till the hour 
 of his promised visit. Katharine to occupy herself 
 till tea time, in putting the finishing touches to lier 
 mother's cap. " Married," she thought to herself, 
 as slie took up her needle and thread, and mecha- 
 nically twisted the ribbon and gauze into its proper 
 form. " How odd it will be ! I wish I liked Colo- 
 nel Forbes better. I wish I w^as sure he was going 
 to make her happy ; — and I shall not see anything 
 more of her then!" Thnt was the worst thought 
 of all at the moment. Katharine did not know 
 before how fond she was of Jane. Marriage would 
 be a great separation. Jane would indeed live at 
 Maplestead, and be often at Rilworth, but the wife 
 of Colonel Forbes could never be to her what the 
 simple, unassuming Jane Sinclair had been. All 
 that " auld lang syne" sympathy dating from school- 
 days would be swept away in the new ties which she 
 was about to form ; and again Katharine said to 
 herself: " I wish I could be sure she wns going to be 
 liappy." From Jane's marriage Katharine wan- 
 dered off to marriage in general, — to her own — if
 
 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 103 
 
 such a thing could be ; she could not help smiling 
 to herself at the idea, the possibility, — it seemed 
 so — almost absurd. Whom could she ever find 
 to care for as well as her fatlier, and mother, and 
 John ? And if she did care for " any one," — how 
 could she suppose that " any one " would ever care 
 for her? And if she did care, it would be very 
 terrible to go away from home, — it must be some 
 one so very unlike any person she had ever seen, 
 who would make up to her for the loss of home. 
 No, she did not think that marriage was in her 
 way. The girls at school used to tell her so. They 
 used to prophesy that Selly would have a great 
 many offers, but they always said to her that she 
 was sure to die an old maid ; and Katharine had 
 imbibed a kind of faith in the prediction, — so far 
 at least that she was never troubled with fears lest 
 the persons she met should fall in love with her, — 
 a fear which she knew was continually haunting 
 the mind of Selina. 
 
 But then, if she did not marry, what should she 
 do all her life ? Live with her father and mother ? 
 but there must come a time of separation. Live 
 with John ? No, — if Selina Fowler did not come 
 in the way, some one else would. Live alone ? like 
 Miss Cookson, the stout old lady, whose father had 
 been the chief linendraper in the place, and who 
 now inhabited the little white house just beyond 
 the turnpike, on the Maplestead Road. Katharine's 
 heart misgave her. Miss Cookson had plenty to 
 eat, plenty to drink, plenty of acquaintances, no 
 friends, two hundred a year, and nothing to do. 
 She could not wish to be an old maid like Miss 
 Cookson. What then could she be ? what ought 
 she to be ? 
 
 That was a deep question ; too deep for Katha- 
 rine, too deep for many much older and wiser 
 
 H 4
 
 104 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 persons. It was like Christian's '• Slougli of 
 Despond ; " and Katharine felt herself sinking into 
 it. Happy for her that the appearance of the 
 servant and the tea broke in upon her medi- 
 tations. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Katharine had quite forgotten the Slough of 
 Despond when she entered the long room at the 
 "Bear," on the evening of the long-expected 
 ball. She felt very timid, very awkward, but 
 extremely inclined to be amused and happy. They 
 went early; Mrs. Ashton liked, she said, to be 
 sure of good seats, and there would be enough 
 to do in watching people as they came in. So, 
 almost before the candles were lighted, and more 
 than a quarter of an hour before the musicians 
 assembled in the gallery, Mrs. Ashton and Katha- 
 rine took their seats on the upper benches, between 
 the fire-place and the door ; not at the top of the 
 room, that would have been in the way of the 
 Duchess and her friends. " Colonel Forbes had 
 been there only five minutes before," George An- 
 drews told them, as he met them at the door, radi- 
 ant in a purple satin waistcoat, and very shining 
 shoes, " but he was gone to the 'Bear' to dress; 
 he would be back as soon as possible, for he was to 
 receive the Duchess, and she was to arrive punc- 
 tually at eight." Mrs. Ashton was much interested 
 by the information, and considered Mr. George 
 most kindly communicative. She did not think, as 
 Katharine did, that lie talked to them only because 
 there was no one of more importance present, and 
 talk he must to somebody. " I assure you, Mrs.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 105 
 
 Ashton, we have worked uncommonly Lard," he 
 continued : " you woukln't know this to be the 
 same room in which the great anti-corn h.w meet- 
 ing was hekl hist year, now, would you ? Matty, 
 my sister, and the two Maddens, the girls, I mean — 
 Harry Madden and I are not on terms exactly, — 
 brought a whole heap of made-up roses to put over 
 the mantel-piece, but we felt it would be better not ; 
 it would destroy the tastefulness. It is simple, 
 now, you see. Miss Katharine, — quite simple, like 
 your dress, which you must allow me to say is re- 
 markably j)retty." He turned away to welcome a new 
 arrival, and did not see Katharine's affronted face. 
 She never liked George Andrews, under any cir- 
 cumstances ; as steward of a ball she thought him 
 actually detestable in his impertinence. 
 
 The room began to fill. Amongst the earliest 
 who came were Selina Fowler and her mother, and 
 two cousins from the country, and a young ensign 
 from the regiment stationed at the county town, 
 who had been dining with them. Selina looked 
 handsome ; her blue silk dress was very pretty, and 
 very well made, and her long black ringlets were 
 glossy and neatly arranged. Katharine wished she 
 could have cut off some streaming ribbons depend- 
 ing from the dress, and tried the effect of a single 
 white rose, instead of a wreath of pink ones ; but 
 that might be her own want of knowledge of the 
 fashion. People, she was aware, did wear very 
 odd colours together, and pink and blue might be 
 quite right. She took pleasure in seeing Selina, 
 and quite forgot any past offences ; indeed they were 
 so common that they were not v/orth remembering. 
 ^' Selly has brought one partner with her, and she 
 is sure of John and George Andrew^s, so there will 
 be three dances for her, motlier," she said : " how^ 
 she will enjoy it! But do look! there is Martha
 
 106 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 Dobson, I declare, and old Mr. Dobson, — doesn't he 
 look pleased ? Do let us go across and speak to 
 him : don't you see him admiring the candles and 
 the laurels ? " — " We shall lose our places if we 
 move," said Mrs. Ashton; "people are comino; in so 
 fast. See, there is Henry Madden, — isn't it, Kate ? 
 I wonder what he and George Andrews are cool 
 about? And who is that young lady in white near 
 liim ? Miss Sophy Lane, isn't it ? I did not know 
 she was old enough to come out to a ball. And 
 next to her must be Mrs. Hugh Coke, of Little- 
 field. She is going up to the top of the room, you 
 see. I suppose slie means to get near the Duchess. 
 That is a very odd cap of hers, Kitty, isn't it ? I 
 am glad you did not make mine like it." — " I wish 
 they would begin dancing," said Katharine ; " I 
 should so like to see them." — " And to dance your- 
 self, too, child," observed Mrs. Ashton ; " your 
 father said he should come in as soon as ever he 
 could, hoping to see you well at it." — " I don't 
 know whom I am to dance with," said Katharine, 
 " and I shall be very much afraid of trying ; but I 
 shall be sure to enjoy seeing it all. Do, mother, 
 just get Martha Dobson to come and sit by us ; she 
 looks so lonely out there by herself, and old Mr. 
 Dobson is away at the other end, talking to Mr. 
 Lane's clerk." Mrs. Ashton was still afraid to 
 move herself, fearing to lose the seats, but she sent 
 Katharine across the room to give the invitation, 
 promising to take care of her seat for her. So 
 Katharine made her way to the doorway, but was 
 there stopped by a considerable commotion, caused 
 by no less an event than tiie arrival of the Duchess 
 of Lowther and her party. The press was very 
 unpleasant, for every one moved back, to make way, 
 and Katharine's dress was crumpled unmercifully. 
 She did not think of that, however, being amused
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 107 
 
 to stand behind the door and watch what went on. 
 " That's Colonel Forbes," she heard whispered bj 
 some one behind her. " He is a steward ; you may 
 know him by the purple bow at his button-hole ; 
 all the stewards have purple bows." — " Oh, then, 
 there's another behind.'' — " Yes, Mr. Andrews, — 
 Mr. George Andrews, son of the rich auctioneer." — 
 " And Mr. Lane ? he can't be a steward, he is too 
 old ! " — " Yes, but he is. Stand back ; here they 
 come." Some people pretended not to look ; — they 
 Avere the county people at the upper end, who 
 said they had seen the Duchess of Lowther hun- 
 dreds of times, and why should they look at her 
 now? Katharine had seen her very often too ; yet 
 she did like to see her again, for it was a new view 
 of a familiar object ; and she was curious to see 
 the party who accompanied her. Lady Marchmont, 
 the celebrated beauty, and Lady Julia and Lady 
 Mary Ferrers, the Duchess's two daughters, and 
 several other unknown but no doubt equally dis- 
 tinguished individuals, who were some young, some 
 old, some handsome, some ugly, but all rather won- 
 derful to Katharine, because they were so like 
 every one else. The Duchess herself was remark- 
 able chiefly for her good-humoured expression of 
 face, and her love of talking. She had been hand- 
 some, and she dressed particularly well, and had a 
 certain kindly dignity of manner, from having been 
 accustomed all her life to confer rather than receive 
 favours, all of which tended to create a favourable 
 impression. Katharine looked at her with plea- 
 sure, but the person she liked best to see was 
 Colonel Forbes. He was in the room before the 
 Duchess's arrival, and went forward to meet her, 
 and oifer his arm, and they walked to the top of 
 the ball-room together. He looked so very refined, 
 so entirely a gentleman, Katharine forgot Martha
 
 108 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 Dobson, anrl thought of Miss Sinclair, and wished 
 she had been there to see him. 
 
 " If lie is as good as he is good-looking, there 
 will be no fear," she said to herself. 
 
 " Miss Ashton, they are going to dance, now the 
 Duchess is come. Would you try the country 
 dance with me?" It was Charles Ronaldson 
 speaking, — over her shoulder, because he had not 
 the courage to make the request to her face. Katha- 
 rine was a little frightened, — but a good deal pleased. 
 She had not till then quite made up her mind to 
 attempt dancing at all : seeing so many strangers 
 had at first made her feel it w^ould be impossible ; 
 but now that she was more accustomed to them, she 
 had a hope that the very fact of the numbers would 
 cause her mistakes to pass unnoticed. '' I should 
 like to try very much," she said, " but I don't know 
 much about it, so please let us get quite at the 
 bottom." 
 
 There was great confusion in the room — stewards 
 with purple bows rushing about amongst crowds of 
 perplexed couples, who could not possibly be made 
 to understand that in a country dance gentlemen 
 and ladies must stand opposite to each other ; a few 
 individuals more learned and more adventurous 
 making their way to the upper end of the room, and 
 resolutely placing themselves in front of some of the 
 Duchess of Lowther's friends: scornful looks in con- 
 sequence on one side, and half-suppressed triumphant 
 smiles on the other; — a good deal of pressing and 
 squeezing, — a muttered apology, — a stiff bow, — 
 fathers, mothers, uncles, and aunts, pressing in upon 
 the ranks, and only kept back by the peremptory 
 commands of Mr. George Andrews, and the more 
 softened, but not less imperious entreaties, of 
 Colonel Forbes; — such were the preparations for 
 the country dance ! Katharine kept her arm within
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 109 
 
 her companion's as long as she possibly could, for 
 she was so bewildered that she did not remember 
 what the dance was like, but the fact dawned upon 
 her when she saw Martha Dobson separated from 
 her partner, a clumsy-looking country boy, and 
 vainly peering for him with her near-sighted eyes, 
 as he stood opposite to her. Katharine turned to 
 Charles, and begged him to keep close to that poor 
 boy and help him, and she would help Martha. 
 "I suspect we know more tiian they do," she said ; 
 " at any rate, we will watch and learn sometliing 
 before it comes to our turn.'' — " Now Martha," she 
 added, addressing the frightened girl, — " we will 
 just go wrong together, and then nobody can scold 
 lis. I don't know anything about it, scarcely, but 
 I mean to learn. See, they are just beginning." 
 
 Yes, but not Selina Fowler and George Andrews, 
 as Katharine in her simplicity had expected. Selina 
 was standing not far from herself, looking much out 
 of humour, and her partner was the young ensign; 
 and it was Lady Marchmont who opened the ball, 
 with Colonel Forbes. Katharine was very much 
 amused then ; the music was so inspiriting, the scene 
 so very pretty, and she thought it would be extremely 
 nice to get to the top, and go down the middle, and 
 she could scarcely keep her feet still, they seemed 
 so involuntarily to keep time to the music. Every 
 now and then she caught a glimpse of her mother 
 through the gazing crowd, and Mrs. Ashton's pleased 
 .'^mile was as exhilarating to her as the music. 
 When it came to her part to turn in the dance, 
 however, she forgot what she was to do, and making 
 a great blunder, blushed and bogged pardon, and to 
 make amends, helped Martha Dobson with such excel- 
 lent instruction, that in some wonderful way — liow, 
 Martha never knew — she actually went througli the 
 trial of " hands across," and came back to her place
 
 110 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 in safety. Louder and more gladdening sounded 
 the music, faster and faster down came the dancers. 
 Katharine was so eager not to make mistakes that 
 she did not notice witli whom she danced, and cared 
 no more for Lord Marclimont and his brothers and 
 the great people of the county, than she would for her 
 brother John. Dancing was her business just then, 
 and she set herself to it with straightforward ear- 
 nestness, as she would to any other business. George 
 Andrews, she found, was not dancing, he was moving 
 up and down behind the ranks, urging every one to 
 " keep lip, keep up," not to leave blank spaces, and 
 cause confusion. Katharine saw that there were 
 spaces, that the numbers in the dance were fewer; 
 she did not see the reason, till she observed Lady 
 Marchmont sitting down on a bench by the door, 
 and Colonel Forbes standing by her talking to her. 
 They then had left the dance, so had Lady Julia 
 Ferrer, so had her sister, so had a great many others 
 of their party. She heard some one near her say : 
 "That's too bad; if they have had their pleasure, 
 why shouldn't they wait?" and many were the dis- 
 appointed angry looks which were cast at them. 
 " You are not going to sit down ? " said George 
 Andrews, coming up to Selina Fowler, when she 
 had danced to the end ; " you must not, it is against 
 the rules." — "Not against my rules," was Selina's 
 reply, and with a toss of the head, she left her place 
 and sat down. Two or three others followed her 
 example ; the spirit of the dancers was departing ; 
 — Katharine stood at the top, and did not quite, 
 know whether it was worth while to go on. Colonel 
 Forbes saw there was a pause, gave the signal to the 
 musicians, — and the country dance was over. 
 
 Disa[)pointment the first, — a great disappoint- 
 ment to Katharine, — but she bore it very patiently. 
 Not so many others. " It was the grandee airs,"
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. Ill 
 
 they said, which they disliked, and other folks imi- 
 tating them ; but they would have their revenge ; 
 they would have a country dance before the even- 
 ing was over, and all to themselves, and three times 
 up and down, they would go if they chose it. A 
 decided party was formed ; all who had left the 
 country dance were considered to be, as it was said, 
 apeing the grandees ; and when a quadrille was 
 proposed, no one else would go into the same set 
 with them. Katharine would not venture upon a 
 quadrille, though Charles Ronaldson asked her, and 
 said they had really not danced at all. She sat down 
 by her mother, and watched the forming of the 
 quadrilles. " Do look, mother," she said, " there are 
 Selly and Henry Madden wanting a place ; where 
 will they go ? " — •' Into that second set, I suppose," 
 said Mrs. Ashton. " There is no one standing op- 
 posite to that young lady in the white silk." The 
 young lady in white silk was a cousin of Lady 
 Marchmont's. She and her partner were looking 
 round for a vis-a-vis. Selina and young Madden 
 were just coming up. It was impossible not to 
 see them. The young lady put up her eye-glass, 
 glanced round the quadrille, said quite loudly, 
 " We have no vis-a-vis'^ and quietly retired. 
 The dancing began, and Selina was obliged to sit 
 down. " Now that's what I call rude," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Ashton. "Very rude," said Katharine; "but if 
 I were Selly I would not have put myself in the 
 way of it. She might have seen they were not any 
 of them her set." — " But one set is as good as 
 another to-night," said Mrs. Ashton ; " people were 
 all to dance together, I thought." — " Yes, dance 
 with the people who dance like them," replied 
 Katharine ; that is what they are doing. " Mother, 
 is not Lady Marchmont beautiful, and isn't ir
 
 112 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 
 
 " She does not dance half as raerrily as you, Kate." 
 replied her mother. " You went through that 
 twisty figure in the country dance as if you had been 
 at it all your life. How I wish your father could 
 have seen you." — " Ah, but motlier, that was 
 dancing for myself. Lady Marchmont's dancing 
 is for other people. I could watch her all night ;" 
 and Katharine bent forward, that her view might 
 not be obstructed by a venerable old lady who sat 
 next her, and followed every movement of the 
 graceful Lady Marchmont with the most eager 
 delight. 
 
 Katharine's was one of the few faces on which a 
 hearty smile of pleasure was to be seen. The feel- 
 ing in the room generally was uncomfortable. Selina 
 Fowler was not the only person aggrieved. Miss 
 Lane found herself in the third set, when she wished 
 to be in the second ; Miss Madden fancied that 
 Lady Julia Ferrers had cut her ; Miss Andrews felt 
 especially angry that, as the sister of a steward, she 
 had not been introduced to the Duchess. Some of 
 the country people were heard making remarks upon 
 Miss Julia Madden's style of dancing ; and the 
 unfortunate "grandees," — from the good-natured 
 Duchess, wishing to be kind, but not in the least 
 knowing how to begin, to the silly girl who did not 
 choose to be vis-d-vis to Selina Fowler — w^ere all 
 included in one term — "airified." 
 
 Colonel Forbes, with the quick instinct of a seeker 
 of popularity, felt, almost before he saw, what was 
 amiss. " We are keeping aloof too much," he said 
 to the Duchess : " it will not do to have the sets 
 distinct. Can your Grace persuade Lord Marchmont 
 to play the agreeable?" The Duchess, only too 
 delighted to be spared the responsibility of thought, 
 appealed to her son : " Marchmont, there is Miss 
 Lane, — do you see her? — the young lady in yellow ;
 
 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX. 113 
 
 go and ask Miss Lane for the next quadrille ; — jou 
 really must — it will be civil. — And Walter," — she 
 beckoned to another son — " Colonel Forbes, be so 
 good as to find Walter a partner? — Go and talk 
 your best, my dear boy ; don't be shy, there is 
 nothing to be shy about. — What else can I do, 
 Colonel Forbes ? — only tell me ? — v/hat can I do ? 
 — Must I walk up and down and talk to them .^ — 
 Ah ! what a comfort ! — here are the officers! " A 
 great comfort indeed, not only for the Duchess, 
 but for the whole room. Officers are amphibious 
 animals, — they can live in all elements. Colonel 
 Forbes seized on the Major and the Captain for 
 Miss Lane and ]\Iiss Madden, introduced a lieu- 
 tenant to one young lady, an ensign to another; 
 then called for a polka ; and, as the whirling dance 
 began, returned to the Duchess, to congratulate 
 both her and himself that the success of the ball 
 was secure. 
 
 Most mistaken man ! The polka once begun, 
 when was it to end ? Martha Dobson looked on in 
 despair — Katharine in something much more akin to 
 disgust ; but the polka-dancers — as indefatigable, 
 though by no means as elegant, as the dancing 
 Dervishes — seemed to have made it a principle to 
 continue till they had exhausted their own breath 
 and the patience of their friends. In utter weariness 
 of the fatigue of standing still, some who had never 
 seen the dance before ventured to try it. To cling 
 like drowning wretches to each other — the lady's head 
 apparently resting upon her partner's shoulder for 
 support — and then to make a hopping rush, seemed 
 all that was required ; and, brave as unpractised 
 aeronauts, they set off. A collision — a stumble — 
 the interruption of the dance, — unpleasant words 
 followed ; but what did that signify in a polka ? — 
 On and on again, getting more excited, more rapid, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 more in the way ! The confusion was bewildering. 
 Ladj Marchmont drew back, and, with a haughty 
 air, declared that she could venture upon it no 
 more — the romping was intolerable. Colonel Forbes 
 was annoyed at her annoyance, and would have put 
 an end to the dance, but there was no opportunity. 
 The Duchess, he saw, was as uncomfortable as her 
 daughter-in-law. She talked of retiring; that would 
 have been the most dire offence, and Colonel Forbes 
 petitioned earnestly for a little forbearance — a little 
 patience. " Supper should be prepared for her 
 Grace alone, if that would please her;" but, as he 
 said the words, he felt that he was committing a 
 blunder. The Duchess consented to stay ; but 
 she could not allow her daughters to dance any 
 more; or, if they did, it must, she said, be entirely 
 with their own party. Mixtures would not do. 
 Then there was no more hope of another and 
 a more successful country -dance. Poor Colonel 
 Forbes ! he felt already all that was being said, and 
 would be said ; he had but one consolation — that 
 Jane was not present. " Kate," said Mr. Ashton — 
 who had made his appearance in the ball-room just 
 as the polka began, and had watched the proceedings 
 for some time in ominous silence — "Kate, that 
 dance may do very well for fine ladies and gentle- 
 men, but, mind me, it won't do for you." — "No, 
 father, I should never wish it." 
 
 The polka ended at last. Panting ladies, with 
 heated complexions and disordered hair, threw 
 themselves upon the nearest seats, and equally 
 panting gentlemen stood by them, offering to fetch 
 lemonade. Selina Fowler was amongst them — she 
 had recovered her equanimity ; but thanks to Co- 
 lonel Forbes, not to George Andrews. Colonel 
 Forbes had introduced her to an officer — George 
 Andrews had entirely neglected her : she, who had
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 115 
 
 considered herself engaged to open the ball with 
 him, had been utterly put aside ! The consequences 
 were of no importance to Mr. George Andrews, 
 who had made a foolish speech without in the least 
 intending to act upon it ; and who, though he 
 amused himself with talking to Miss Selina Fowler 
 when he had nothing else to do, never bestowed a 
 serious thought upon her, — but they were of great 
 importance to John Ashton. " Miss Selly is making 
 up w^ith John, after all," said Mr. Ashton, as he 
 saw them stand up together for a quadrille; "I 
 shouldn't have thought that would have been her 
 line to-night ; but he's a fine looking young fellow, 
 I must say that for him. They make a handsome 
 couple, don't they, wife ? — don't they, Ronaldson ? " 
 he added, turning to Charles, who had just joined 
 them. " Selly is in a pet with George Andrews," 
 said Katharine, "she told me that just now; she 
 always makes up to John when she wishes to spite 
 any one." — " That is not said like you, Kitty," ob- 
 served Mr. Ashton, " it is not what I call kind ; but 
 somehow I don't think you ever are quite kind to 
 John and Miss Selly." — "I don't think I am, father; 
 but I cannot help seeing what is before my eyes, 
 and if I were John I could not trust a girl that was 
 one thing to me one day and another the next. I 
 never could like any one that changed." — "Are you 
 certain to like one that never changed ? " asked 
 Charles Ronaldson. His voice sounded so deep and 
 strange that it seemed like that of another person, 
 and Katharine turned round to look at him ; but he 
 was just the same as usual in manner and appear- 
 ance, — just as quiet and shy, yet with that keen, 
 quick glance which seemed to take in everything 
 that was going on, and comment upon and draw in- 
 ferences from it in the same moment. Katharine 
 laughed gaily in reply to his question, and said she
 
 116 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 would not undertake to promise quite so much as 
 that; but it would certainly be a great point in a 
 person's favour. A bright gleam, the sunshine of 
 the mind, crossed Charles Ronaldson's face ; it was 
 very soon gone, however, and, though still standing 
 by Katharine's side, he relapsed into silence. The 
 quadrille was ended, and another country dance was 
 proposed, and every one was seeking or claiming 
 partners. Katharine, to her extreme surprise, was 
 accosted by Colonel Forbes, and, before she was 
 at all aware of what was intended, introduced to 
 a stranger, an officer, and carried away into the 
 crowd, and placed nearly at the top of the dance. 
 Most entirely out of her proper position, she felt it 
 to be. Where were Lady Marchmont, Lady Julia 
 Ferrers, Lady Mary, Mrs. Hugh Coke, and a great 
 many others of the same caste ? surely some one 
 ought to take her place ! Colonel Forbes clapped 
 his hands impatiently for the musicians to begin. 
 Katharine had no more time given her for wondering. 
 Her part would come next, and she must not put 
 every one out by blundering; and merrily she 
 moved in the dance, merrily she went " down the 
 middle and up again," thinking a country dance one 
 of the pleasantest things in the world ; and brightly 
 she smiled at her father, when she reached the 
 bottom, as he came up to her and patted her on the 
 shoulder, and whispered — ""Well done, my little 
 Kate, you'll tire them all out after all." But there 
 was no one else smiling, no one at least that she 
 could see; all were whispering, and glancing, 
 and muttering, with clouded brows and scornful 
 lips, and gazing at the upper end of the room, 
 upon the empty seats, where ought to have 
 been seen the Duchess of Lowther and her 
 friends. In the confusion of the dance they had 
 slipped away, as they had hoped, unperceived, and
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 11? 
 
 now a rumour had reached the ball-room that the 
 Duchess was taking her private refreshment, and 
 when she was gone supper would be ready for every 
 one else. It was in vain for Colonel Forbes to go 
 from one to the other with civil bows and smooth 
 words, to suggest that it was of no consequence to 
 them what the Duchess did, that she was in delicate 
 health and disliked late hours, that the ball was 
 but just begun, and they must keep it up bravely 
 till the morning ; in vain also that he singled out 
 disconsolate girls who had not danced before, and 
 promised to find them partners for the next dance ; 
 in vain that he enlisted his personal friends into his 
 service, and introduced them to all whom he thought 
 likely to take offence ; — the deed was done — the 
 spirit of exclusiveness had entered, and the spirit of 
 the ball was gone. As the Duchess did not think 
 it worth while to stay to supper, so did not the 
 county people ; as the county people did not, so 
 did not the more important of the townspeople. The 
 room thinned rapidly. When the Duchess's car- 
 riage drove off. Colonel Forbes in despair ordered 
 supper ; but there was no one to take the lead, no 
 one to give tone or order to the proceedings, — it was 
 one universal rush and press, and seizing upon beef 
 and ham, and jellies, and calling for Avine and soda- 
 water; and there was a great hubbub in the supper- 
 room, and a good deal of complaining of want of ac- 
 commodation, and sharp witticisms upon the gran- 
 dees, and quotings of proverbs, such as " the more 
 the merrier," " the fewer the better cheer," " rather 
 have your room than your company," "more missed 
 than wanted," &c. ; from all which it was evident that 
 speeches and drinking healths would be quite out of 
 })lace, and that any allusions to unity and sympathy 
 and the happy mingling of all classes, would be re- 
 I 3
 
 118 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 ceived with decided disapprobation. So Mr. George 
 Andrews was unwillingly persuaded to give up his 
 intention of proposing the health of the Duchess of 
 Lowtlier in a neat speech, and Colonel Forbes re- 
 linquished his intention of replying to it in a politic 
 one. Even the health of the stewards it was felt 
 would be a dangerous subject, and still more dan- 
 gerous would be the discussion of exciting topics 
 whilst the gentlemen lingered at the supper table. 
 The different parties were therefore hurried back to 
 the ball-room before they had time to do much more 
 than taste what was set before them, utterly to the 
 discomfiture of the elderly people, who cared no- 
 thing for the dancing but much for the supper, and 
 were heard, to say, that to be called upon to pay five 
 shillings for a ham sandwich and a scrap of jelly, 
 was little else than being cheated. 
 
 There was dancing after supper, but not pleasant 
 dancing, not at least to Katharine's feelings. The 
 restraint of the first part of the evening was much 
 more to her taste than the licence of the latter part. 
 If it could ever be amusing to see people behave 
 foolishly and rudely, she might have smiled to see 
 the feud breaking out between George Andrews and 
 Henry Madden ; George taking upon himself to be 
 the great man of the evening, to give orders and 
 find fault, and Henry Madden venting contemp- 
 tuous sneers and open witticisms. She might have 
 been amused also to watch Miss Lane's over-acted 
 dignity, and Miss Madden's quiet flirtations, and 
 Selina Fowler's noisy ones ; but though Katharine's 
 mind Avas not philosophical, it was what is far bet- 
 ter, simply religious ; and the instinct of right feel- 
 ing told her before she could reason, that all these 
 things, common though they were, and by many 
 scarcely deemed worthy of serious reproof, were in 
 themselves evil.
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 119 
 
 "\Ve had better go, had not we, dear mother?'* 
 she said, joining her parents at the conclusion of a 
 country dance, in which Colonel Forbes himself had 
 condescended to be her partner. " It is getting late, 
 and I am sure you must be tired." — " Not tired if 
 you are not, Kate," said Mrs. Ashton, trying to con- 
 ceal a yawn. " I dare say you would like to stay 
 for the chance of another dance with the Colonel." 
 — "There is no chance of that, mother," replied 
 Katharine, laughing ; " I have had my turn ; don't 
 you see he is going his round ? Matty Andrews and 
 Selly have been laying wagers," she added, " as to 
 whom he will ask next. He takes us all in right 
 order, according to rank, and IV^atty nearly quar- 
 relled wdth Selina, because Selly said it was quite 
 right he should dance with the Maddens before her." 
 — "Sharp man!" exclaimed Mr. Ashton. "He 
 reckons each dance as a vote ; but he won't take 
 us in quite so easily as that. Come, Kate, are you 
 ready?" — Katharine took one arm, Mrs. Ashton the 
 other. There were but few good-byes to be said ; 
 only a parting shake of the hand with Charlie Ron- 
 aldson, and rather a distant bow to Mrs. Fowler and 
 some friends near her, who with exemplary pa- 
 tience were waiting till their daughters should be 
 tired of a Scotch reel which had just begun. Colonel 
 Forbes met them at the door. — " Going ! Mrs. Ash- 
 ton, it is quite early ; you are rather hard upon 
 your daughter ; Miss Ashton, I hope you have en- 
 joyed yourself." — "Very much indeed, thank you, 
 sir." — "And thank you for dancing with her," added 
 Mrs. Ashton. She could not help thanking him, 
 in spite of Mr. Ashton's hints about policy ; it did 
 seem very kind. They were both genuine speeches 
 of hecirty good-will ; and when Colonel Forbes, 
 wearied and disgusted, went home to meditate upon 
 I 4
 
 120 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 the success of the Union Ball, they were almost the 
 only words which recurred to him with anything 
 like real satisfaction. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "And you really mean to ask Miss Selly to be your 
 wife, John?" said Mr. Ashton, not in the most 
 conciliatory tone of voice, as they sat round the 
 fire after supper the week following the ball. — 
 "Why, yes, father, if you have no objection ; she 
 has made up to me more of late, and I don't think 
 now she'll say, no." — " Humph ! and where do you 
 mean to live, and what do you mean to do for bread 
 and cheese ? " — " Get a little help from you, father, I 
 hope," replied John, " and stock that farm of Colonel 
 Forbes', which he says he will let me have." — 
 "More fool he," replied Mr. Ashton, " I thought 
 he held back and said he did not like to trust his 
 land to a man who knew nothing about farming." — 
 " He knows better than that now," replied John ; 
 "it's not his cue to affront us townsfolks, now that 
 there is to be a dissolution of Parliament." — " Oh ! 
 that's the way the wind blows," exclaimed Mr. 
 Ashton ; " but we must have a little more talk about 
 this matter, «Tohn, my good fellow ; 1 can't have you 
 running your head blindfold against a stone wall. 
 — Farming is not your line and the shop is. Stick 
 to the shop and marry Miss Selly if you will, though 
 I think you might go further and not run any risk 
 of faring worse ; but don't go and bury your money 
 in a ploughed field, and fancy it's all of a sudden to 
 come up wheat." John looked very disconcerted. 
 " Don't take on, John," said his mother encourag-
 
 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 121 
 
 ingly ; " you will bring Selly round to your way 
 of thinking about the shop ea^sier than you fancy. 
 Kate, you must use your influence." Katharine's 
 needle moved very fast ; she did not once look up. 
 "Katharine is quite against me," said John; "she 
 lias been so specially ever since the ball." — " Since 
 the ball," exclaimed Mr. Ashton, " what lias the 
 ball to do with the matter ?" — "It is not only since 
 the ball," observed Katharine, still working dili- 
 gently, " but I did see things then which made me 
 think more about it." — " About what? " asked John. 
 "I do believe, Kitty, there has been a feud between 
 you and Selina ever since the days when you went 
 to Miss Richardson's." — " I hope not, John, dear," 
 replied Katharine, with a good-humoured smile, 
 " that would be a very old quarrel, and besides, I 
 don't recollect that we ever had any feuds there." — 
 " No ! " observed Mr. Ashton ; " Miss Richardson 
 always said you were such a girl for being a make- 
 peace ; but what is the mischief about the ball, 
 Kitty?" — "Only that I saw more of Selly 's ways 
 that evening," replied Katharine, " and they did not 
 strike me as being nice." — " She had more partners 
 than you had," observed John, " if that is what you 
 mean." — " She knows more people, and she is much 
 better looking than I am," answered Katharine ; 
 " but I don't want to say anything against her ; and 
 I liad rather not give any opinion," she addcd^ 
 looking round as if addressing them all ; " the least 
 said the soonest mended, and if Selly Fowler is to 
 be my sister-in-law (the words came out sorely 
 against her will) I shall like her for John's sake, 
 and try all I can to make her happy." Faster than 
 before went Katharine's needle, and her head was 
 bent down so low that no one saw the large tear 
 which fell upon her work. " I suppose we may 
 thank the ball for it all," observed Mrs. Ashton.
 
 122 KATIIAPwIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 " If it hadn't been for George Andrews going off 
 then as he did, I don't in ray heart think, John, that 
 Selly would ever really have favoured you." — " I 
 thought she was going to favour that young flashing 
 ensign," said Mr. Ashton ; " \vhat a chatter and 
 noise they did keep up together ; she musn't do that, 
 John, when she is your wife." — " She won't want 
 to do it/' replied John ;" it is only her high spirits ; 
 when people are married they get sobered." — 
 "Do they?" asked Katharine quickly, and not 
 quite gently. " Yes, Kitty, they do get sobered," 
 repeated John ; "do you think my mother was w^hat 
 she is now before she married, and when she was as 
 young as Selina?" — "I think she always knew how 
 to be modest and well behaved," replied Katharine 
 rather pointedly. " Mother, dear," she added, kiss- 
 ing her, "did you ever make people turn round to 
 look at you because you talked and laughed so 
 loud?" The words were no sooner uttered than 
 repented — Katharine had broken an inward resolu- 
 tion. Mrs. Ashton replied, " I won't answ^er for 
 what I w^as, Kitty; I know I was a very idle 
 lassie." — " But I will answer for it," interrupted 
 Mr. Ashton ; " she would never have been my wife 
 if she had. I hate such noisy giggling misses ; but 
 they arc all much of a muchness in these days. 
 Matty Andrews, and the Maddens, and even that 
 little Miss Lane, were all of a piece I thought that 
 night. I declare I liked much better to see Martha 
 Dobson ploughing along like a good, honest, quiet, 
 cart horse." — " So did I, father," observed Katha- 
 rine, laughing, " and I think if they had all been 
 like Martha, the Duchess would'nt have gone off in 
 the way she did. Miss Sinclair said as much to me 
 yesterday." — " Miss Sinclair has no right to speak 
 about the matter," observed John, " she was too 
 proud to be there. People can't expect court ways
 
 KATHAEIXE ASIIT0:N-. 123 
 
 in a country place." — "But they can expect quiet, 
 good ways," replied Katharine, " and that is what I 
 did not see at the ball ; only in a few, that is." — 
 
 " Just the grandees," observed John scornfully 
 
 " Not all the grandees," replied Katharine. " They 
 were quiet enough, most of them ; but I did not 
 think they were all well mannered ; that young 
 lady, for instance, who turned off because she 
 would not let Selly dance opposite to her. But 
 what I mean is no matter of being a grandee or not 
 a grandee, it's something that every one may be 
 who chooses — something which would prevent peo- 
 ple from talking loudly to be noticed, because they 
 would feel that it was better not be noticed." — 
 '• Something which you are yourself, Kitty," observed 
 Mr. Ashton, patting her head as he rose and stood 
 with his back to the fire. " I did not see a better 
 behaved girl in the room." Katharine blushed and 
 smiled with honest undisguised pleasure. " I should 
 be very bad if I was not well behaved, father," she 
 said, " when I have lived all my life with you and 
 my mother ; and I dare say Selly and the rest would 
 think as I do if they had ever been taught the same ; 
 so John, dear," she added, turning to her brother, 
 " I dare say when Selly and you are married, and 
 she comes to live among us, we shall learn to think 
 more alike." — "John won't bring her here," ob- 
 served Mr. Ashton shortly, " there's the shop." — 
 "John is not really ashamed of the shop, I am 
 sure," said Katharine kindly, as she laid her hand 
 on her brother's arm. " It is only just now, because 
 of Selly's fancy." — " The shop has done us a great 
 deal of good, that's certain," observed Mrs. Ashton. 
 " I don't know what in the world we should have 
 been without it. I am sure when I married your 
 father, and we set up housekeeping in the corner 
 house in Cork Street, and he was looking about for
 
 124 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 something to do with the five hundred pounds his 
 uncle left him, I never thought we should have 
 been as well to do in life as we are now. There is 
 a great deal to be thankful for in the shop." — " A 
 great deal, indeed," repeated Katharine very ear- 
 nestly. John w^as silent. " It's work, and amuse- 
 ment, and profit, and respectability," continued 
 Katharine. " Umph," ejaculated John in a doubt- 
 ful tone. " Yes, respectability, John, dear ; twenty 
 thousand times more respectability than setting up 
 to be what one is not, and fussing to put oneself 
 out of one's proper place." And as John still looked 
 disinclined to speak, she added_, " that was what I 
 felt at the ball the other night, and it was the only 
 thing I did not like in being tliere. It is much more 
 respectable to my mind to be here snug with you, 
 and my father and mother, dressed in my week-day 
 gown, than to be walking about in white muslin, 
 and dancing with that officer and with Colonel 
 Forbes. Isn't it so, father ?" and she fixed her dark 
 intelligent eyes eagerly upon her father. " Would 
 not you like me better to be always as I am now, 
 than always as I was then?" — "I always like you 
 best, child, as you are at the minute," answered Mr. 
 Ashton, stooping down and kissing her forehead. 
 "Isn't it time for you to be going to bed ?" That 
 was a signal that Mr. Ashton wished to have a little 
 private conversation with his son ; and Mrs. Ashton 
 and Katharine took the hint, and, folding up their 
 work, went up stairs. 
 
 Katharine was not immediately told, in direct 
 words, the result of the midnight conference, — for it 
 did last till past midnight, — but she read it in John's 
 triumphant looks, and her father's thoughtful ones, 
 the next morning. Jolin liad gained his point; 
 gained it at least so far that his father had consented 
 to his trying the farm, and had agreed to advance
 
 KATHAKINE ASIITOX. 125 
 
 some money to stock it. The plan was to be tried 
 for a twelvemonth. If it did not succeed, Mr. 
 Ashton pleased himself with thinking that no great 
 harm would be done, the stock might be sold again, 
 and John might return to the shop cured of his 
 follj. Perhaps Mr. Ashton might have been the 
 less easily won over to his son's views, but for an 
 inborn fancy, never yet indulged, for trying his own 
 skill in farming. He himself was a farmer's son, 
 and part of his youth had been spent in farming 
 occupations. The early predilection for the country 
 had never quite left him, and, although now he 
 would have missed the town and the excitement 
 of his shop, with the customers, and orders, and 
 letters, and the importance attached to them, he 
 had no objection to the idea of a pleasant holiday 
 occasionally at his son's home. As regarded his 
 intended daughter-in-law, however he might cri- 
 ticise her, he did not seriously object to her. He 
 was flattered because she was admired ; and she was 
 just enough above him in position to make him 
 lenient to her follies. Besides, she Avas not Katha- 
 rine, — not his daughter. Whatever she said or did, 
 it was John's business, not his. He was deficient 
 in that quick instinct which gave Katharine a 
 clue to the working of character upon future events. 
 He could see great things, and reason upon them ; 
 but he was blind to little things. And yet upon 
 little things the fate, not only of Mr. Ashton's 
 family, but of the whole world must depend: since 
 great things are but the conglomeration of small 
 ones.
 
 126 KATIIAKIXE ASIITOX, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The marriage then was settled. Katharine felt 
 there was scarcely a shadow of hope left, though 
 John had not yet made his offer. Mr. Fowler was 
 a needy man, Mr. Ashton comparatively a rich one ; 
 the balance in that, the most essential consideration in 
 the eyes of both, would be entirely in John's favour. 
 Mrs. Fowler would not dare to oppose her husband, 
 and was besides by no means likely to be indifferent 
 to the worldly gain ; and for Selina herself, Katha- 
 rine could not but believe that the eclat of a wed- 
 ding, the new name, the congratulations, the pre- 
 sents, the idea of an independent country home, 
 and affluence, if not wealth, in the distance ; to say 
 nothing of the satisfaction of showing Mr. George 
 Andrews that if he did not think her worthy of atten- 
 tion, some one else did, would be quite sufficient to 
 outweigh the prejudice against the shop ; the only 
 real obstacle in Selina's mind, and one to which John 
 was most willing to yield. As regarded affection, 
 Katharine felt herself uncharitable, but she could 
 not honestly find it in her heart to give Selina 
 credit for much towards any one but herself. She 
 and John had known each other from infancy ; 
 there were the early associations, therefore, to unite 
 their sympathies. They agreed in liking fine 
 houses, and fine dress, and tine people ; they had 
 the same distaste for regular employment, the 
 same love of spending money : so far there would 
 be no opposition in their lives ; but unity in such 
 things was but an insecure foundation for happi- 
 ness ; and no wonder that Katlinrine's heart beat 
 faintly and rapidly, as she sat at work in the parlour
 
 kathari:ne ashton. 127 
 
 late in the afternoon, listening for her brother's 
 footsteps on his return from his eventful visit to 
 Mr. Fowler. For John deserved a better fate, — 
 deserved it at least if he had chosen to seek it. 
 He had his father's sense of honour, his mother's 
 kindness of heart, his sister's candour and openness 
 of disposition ; his faults in a great measure were 
 the result of bad education in childhood. " John 
 is so high spirited, no one can manage him," 
 said Mr. Ashton, proudly, when he was five years 
 old ; and John heard the opinion, and thought it 
 something very grand, and acted upon it ; and at 
 ten years of age he was pronounced a noble boy, but 
 a terrible pickle ; and at fifteen he was intolerably 
 idle, but there was a great deal of good in him ; and 
 at three-and-twenty he was a good-hearted fellow, 
 not fit for business, but a pleasant companion, and 
 a great favourite with every one. There was 
 nothing vicious in him. Katharine had consoled 
 herself again and again with this thought, when 
 his follies had especially pained her. If he could 
 but fall into good hands, a great deal might be made 
 of him. She had always looked forward to his 
 marriage as the turning point in his life ; that which 
 would decide the moral ascent or descent. She 
 overlooked the fact, that as men sow so they are to 
 reap ; that an idle, thoughtless youth will lead to 
 an idle, thoughtless marriage. John's choice of 
 Selina Fowler was but another form of the same 
 careless self-indulgent temper which had made him 
 as a child play when he ought to have been learn- 
 ing his lessons, and as a young man waste his time 
 with companions far worse disposed than himself, 
 when he ought to have been devoting himself to his 
 father's business. 
 
 Five times had Katharine put down her work and 
 gone to the door, thinking slie heard John's step in
 
 128 KATIIARIXE ASIITOX. 
 
 the passage, and at last, even when the house-bell 
 rang, she did the same mechanically. She heard the 
 question whether Miss Ashton was at home, with- 
 out exactly understanding from whom it proceeded, 
 though it was a voice which she knew perfectly, and 
 which at any other time would have given her un- 
 feigned satisfaction. — " Here's ]\Iiss Sinclair come 
 to see you. Miss Ashton," said Susan, following her 
 as she retreated into the parlour; "she says she 
 won't disturbyou as you are busy." — "Busy! no, lam 
 not busy," answered Katharine, dreamily; "Whom 
 did you say?— Miss Sinclair? — ask her to walk in." 
 — She made a great effort to recover her self-pos- 
 session, and remembered that Jane was going to be 
 married, that it wanted only a few days to the time, 
 that this was probably her last visit ; it would not 
 then do to be wrapt up in her own anxieties. Be- 
 sides, what had she to fear ? Had she not already 
 made up her mind to the worst ? 
 
 " I wanted to come and see you yesterday, Katha- 
 rine," was Jane's opening remark ; "but the weather 
 was so bad in the afternoon I could not venture." 
 — Katharine ^A■as glad to talk of the weather, it was 
 such a safe unexciting topic, and they both made 
 sundry sapient observations upon the season, and the 
 short summer, and how soon the leaves had fiided, 
 especially along the Maplestead-road, vrith Avhich 
 Jane showed herself to be particularly well ac- 
 quainted ; and then a little more was said about the 
 ball, and a missionary meeting, and Jane was just 
 beginning to thaw — a process which always required 
 a certain amount of conversation, when Katharine 
 really did hear the quick heavy step for which she 
 had been so anxiously waiting, and John Ashton 
 threw open the door, behind which Jane was sit- 
 ting, and, rushing up to his sister, gave her a loud, 
 echoing kiss, and exclaimed, " It's done, Kitty — she'll
 
 KATHAKIXE ASHTON. 129 
 
 have me." — Katharine silently withdrew herself, 
 and stood so that he might see Miss Sinclair. His 
 exit was instantaneous, and as tlie door closed be- 
 hind him Katharine lost all her self-command, and 
 burst into tears. Jane was not shy then ; she was 
 never shy when it was a question of giving comfort. 
 She went up to Katharine and put her arm round 
 her, and said, in the gentlest of voices, " dear Ka- 
 tharine, might I know what is the matter?" — 
 Katharine might have been proud with any one else 
 — pride was one of her faults — not worldly pride, of 
 station and outward advantages, but a pride even 
 more dangerous, the exaggeration of self-respect. 
 She could not bear to show suffering — she did not 
 like pity. To any one but Jane her answer would 
 have been a quick struggle against sorrow, the dash- 
 ing away of her tears, and the hasty, " nothing, 
 thank you, nothing of any consequence," which as 
 a child had always been her safe reply when any- 
 one ventured to intrude upon her hidden feelings. 
 But Jane's pity was like her love, built upon respect. 
 Katharine felt this, though she could not have ex- 
 plained the feeling. Jane did not patronise, but 
 she understood her ; and when Jane's question 
 was put Katharine answered without hesitation, 
 '• John is to be married to Selina Fowler." Little 
 further was needed in explanation of Katharine's 
 distress. Jane had heard the report from Colonel 
 Forbes ; it was the reason commonly given for 
 John Ashton's wish to take a farm. Slie had not 
 thought very much about it at the time — it was not 
 natural she should, having her mind so occupied 
 with engrossing interests of her own. It had vexed 
 her for a moment that Colonel Forbes should have 
 made the promise without consulting IVIr. Ashton. 
 as he had given her to understand he would do ; but 
 she did not like to interfere in matters which were 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 not in her province, and her only comment when 
 the matter was mentioned was : " I hope they may 
 be happy, but I doubt if Katharine Ashton will 
 approve of her sister-in-law." 
 
 She reproached herself now for indifference and 
 selfishness ; the matter was so much nearer Katha- 
 rine's heart than she had in the least imarrined ; 
 and in an instant she had placed herself in Katha- 
 rine's position, trying to see with her eyes, to feel 
 with her feelings, to understand all the pain, both 
 present and future, which the thoughtless marriage 
 of an only brother, whether refined or unrefined, 
 agreeable or disagreeable, would be likely to cause. 
 "Actually to be married! Is it quite — certainly 
 settled ? " she said, as Katharine took up her -svork, 
 and tried to go on with it, as though nothing were 
 amiss. " He has just been to ask her," replied 
 Katharine. " I was sure beforehand she would say 
 yes ; and I don't know w^hy I should be so silly about 
 it." — " She is not fit to be your sister-in-law^," con- 
 tinued Jane, — "only, perhaps, Katharine, being with 
 you may improve her." — " No," said Katharine, 
 energetically, " no hope of that, Miss Sinclair. I 
 don't mean that Selly can't be improved, — that 
 would be very wrong in me, and very hard. I dare 
 say something may improve her by-and-by, but i t won't 
 be anything I can do: she looks down upon me." — 
 "No! no! impossible!" exclaimed Jane. — " Yes, she 
 looks down upon me," replied Katharine, " in her 
 way, that is ; " she added, with an April smile bright- 
 ening her face, " which is a w^ay I don't at all care 
 for ; but it wdll keep me from doing her good, even 
 if it were in me. I don't know whether I am right, 
 Miss Sinclair, but I think sometimes that people 
 must have gone some steps already in the right way 
 before they learn anything from those they fancy 
 beneath them." — " Yes, possibly," replied Jane,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 131 
 
 thoughtfully; "but I cannot say myself that I see the 
 great difference, unless" — and she laughed — "unless 
 you will allow the advantage to be on your side." — 
 " There is the shop," replied Katharine, " and you 
 know I am part of the shop ; but I don't care about 
 myself in the least; only — John — he is my only 
 brother" (the quick tears again rushed to her eyes, 
 but they were l3ravely kept back), " and I used to 
 hope he would marry some one sensible, who would 
 keep him up to business, and help him on to do his 
 duty. Marriage is such a very important thing." — 
 " Yes, indeed," was Jane's short, but emphatic re- 
 ply " It must have such a great influence upon 
 
 people's future lives," continued Katharine ; " if it 
 does not help them on it must draw them back ; and 
 if it is not happy it must be so very unhappy." — 
 " Yes," again repeated Jane, keeping her eyes fixed 
 upon the ground ; " I have heard all this said by 
 others," continued Katharine, her face becoming 
 animated, and her eyes kindling with eagerness ; 
 " but I never felt how true it was till now. Oh ! 
 Miss Sinclair, it is a terrible risk!" A pale pink 
 flush coloured Jane's cheek : she looked up suddenly. 
 — "Katharine, you must not frighten me." — " Oh! 
 I forgot — I forgot," and Katharine seized her hand ; 
 " but it cannot be the same with you ; you must 
 have judged so wisely." — " I hope so," said Jane, 
 quietly. " I don't doubt it," she added, after a 
 moment's pause. Something — it was a feeling which 
 often recurred to Katharine in after years — an un- 
 defined, yet vivid sense, of painful misgiving — 
 stopped the reply which suggested itself ; she could 
 not say " you can have no cause to doubt." — "I 
 came here partly, this afternoon, to tell you about 
 Thursday," continued Jane, speaking with the quiet 
 simplicity which was habitual to her, "and to ask 
 if you would mind coming to say 'good-bye' to me. 
 K 2
 
 132 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 I shall not be at the breakfast; we are to go some 
 way beyond London, so there would not be time ; 
 but if you were at the house when " — her words 
 came a little more quickly, and with some confusion 
 of manner — " afterwards, when we come back 
 from church. I thought I should like it ; if you 
 Avould not think it a trouble, that is." — " A trouble ! 
 Oh! Miss Sinclair," — and in a moment the cloud 
 passed away from Katharine's face — " it is so very, 
 very kind! I could not have hoped you would have 
 thought of me." — " I was sure you would think of 
 me, Katharine," said Jane ; " and we have known 
 each other so many years." — " Yes, a great, great 
 many. I like to look back and remember them ; 
 but somehow it makes me sad. But I ought not to 
 speak of sadness, though, when everything about 
 you is so bright." — " Speak of anything you like," 
 replied Jane, smiling ; my brightness is not of a 
 kind to make me forget other people's cares. Mar- 
 riage puts one at the beginning of a strange, new 
 life, and gives one enough that is sobering to think 
 about." — " And you will live at Maplestead," said 
 Katharine, "and have a house of your own, and 
 visitors, and parties ; I am afraid I shall never see 
 you." — " Sometimes, I hope," said Jane, playfully ; 
 " I don't mean quite to forget all my old I'riends. 
 But, Katharine, I was half-inclined, when I came, 
 to ask a favour of you, "vvhich might bring us more 
 together ; only, I am afraid you have so much upon 
 your mind now, you may not know how to attend to 
 other things." — "I have it in my mind to finish 
 making my mother's gown," said Katharine, lightly, 
 as she held up her -work, " but I don't know that I 
 have anything else. If you mean as to John and 
 Selina, the less I think about them the better, for I 
 can do them no good in the world." — " Then, per- 
 haps you would not care for having your thoughts
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 133 
 
 distracted," said Jane, " by taking a little charge of 
 mj poor people." Katharine felt very uncomfort- 
 able. Was she really to become a district visitor? 
 What would her father say ? — " Pray don't mind 
 saying 'no,'" continued Jane; "I depend upon your 
 being honest. I would not have mentioned the 
 subject if I had not felt sure you would be ; and 
 you must not think I want to leave all the charge 
 upon you ; — but the fact is, I cannot quite bear 
 giving up the people all of a sudden, they are so 
 used to me, and I like some of them so much ; but, 
 of course, when I am at Maplestead, it will be 
 impossible to go on as I have done ; and, when I 
 was thinking about it, it struck me that, perhaps, if 
 you and I were to join together, and you were to 
 see them regularly when I could not, it might be 
 the means of keeping them still under my own eye. 
 Was that very selfish ? Would you rather have a 
 district all to yourself?" — "No! indeed," exclaimed 
 Katharine, hastily ; "I never thought of having a 
 district at all ; I should not know what to do with 
 one, and I have so very little time ; and I don't think 
 my father and mother would quite like it." — Jane 
 looked disappointed and uncomfortable, as a very shy, 
 nervous person naturally would, who had made an 
 unacceptable request. She hastened to escape from 
 her difficulty. " Oh ! that is enough ; pray don't 
 trouble about it ; don't think anything more upon 
 the subject ; I shall do quite well. I assure you it 
 would vex me if you were to put yourself out of 
 your way on my account. I can easily give up the 
 district ; in fact, perhaps I ought to do so, for I 
 shall have enough to attend to with the poor people 
 at Maplestead." Katharine said nothing, and the 
 pause was extremely awkward. Jane Avished to go, 
 but she did not like to move, because it would seem 
 as if she was annoyed. '• Have you seen Jemmy 
 K 3
 
 134 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 Dawes, lately?" she asked, not being able to think 
 of anything else to say. — " I saw him once last week, 
 and once this," said Katharine ; " he is getting a 
 great deal better. His aunt told me you were kind 
 enough to talk of putting him to school." — "Yes; 
 to the National School. Mrs. Reeves snys she will 
 undertake to see that the penny a-week is paid for 
 him." Another pause. Katharine was thinking all 
 this time. When a thinking fit came upon her, she 
 generally gave way to it ; she had not learnt the 
 lesson of society, to talk all the more lightly and 
 indifferently, because the heart is engrossed with 
 other subjects. 
 
 The result of her thoughts was known when Jane 
 stood up to go. " I should not like quite to say, ' no,' 
 to your notion about the district, Miss Sinclair ; 
 perhaps I ought to take it." — "I don't see any 
 ought in the case," replied Jane, " if you have not 
 time, and if your father and mother would not like 
 it." — " I said that because it came into my head at 
 the moment," replied Katharine ; '* perhaps I might 
 make time; perhaps my father and mother would not 
 care after I had talked to them a little about it." — 
 " And perhaps you would burden yourself, and put 
 yourself quite out of your way to please me," 
 said Jane kindly. " No, no, Katharine, don't think 
 anything more about it; I only mentioned it because 
 it was an idea which came into my head last night; 
 and after all, as I said before, it may be better for 
 me not to try and continue the district ; it may be 
 much better cared for — I dare say it will be — by 
 some one else." — " But is there any one else wish- 
 ing to take it?" inquired Katharine. — "Not just 
 at this moment that I know of, but I shall hear to- 
 morrow; there is a district-meeting to-morrow." 
 — "And if you give it up then, you won't have 
 any chance of it again," said Katharine, with an air
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 135 
 
 of thought. " No ; but pray, Katharine, don't trouble 
 about it, indeed you will vex me if you do." — 
 " Perhaps I ought," said Katharine, as if she was 
 speaking to herself. Jane laughed. " Dear Katha- 
 rine, what a conscience you have ! I shall be afraid 
 ever to mention anything of the kind to you again." 
 — "If I ought I will," said Katharine, resolutely, 
 and not heeding Jane's remark. Then looking up 
 more brightly, she added, " I should like to helj) 
 you. Miss Sinclair. — it is not that. You don't 
 think I would not do anything in the world to help 
 you, do you?" — "No, indeed Katharine, I could 
 
 never doubt you, but" *' I suppose it is not 
 
 right to send away duties any more than beggars, 
 when they knock at one's door," said Katharine, 
 interrupting the excuse which she felt was going to 
 be made for her ; " so, if you please, I will hear 
 some more ; won't you sit down again? " She moved 
 a chair towards Jane, and sat down herself. It 
 would have been impossible to resist her determina- 
 tion, and Jane, though not at all satisfied that she 
 was doing wisely, sat down. " Will you tell me 
 how often you go to your district, and how often I 
 ought to go, if I undertook it ? " asked Katharine. 
 " 1 am obliged to go round once a fortnight to change 
 the tracts," said Jane. " I beg your pardon — 
 ciiange what did you say ? " — " The tracts, — the 
 little books, — you must have seen them at Jemmy's 
 cottage, marked ' District Visiting Society,' on the 
 outside." Katharine did remember some thin 
 pamphlets, covered with paper — brown by nature, 
 doubly brown by dirt. She had looked into ono 
 once, and thought it contained very long, hard 
 words. "And would that be part of my business?" 
 she asked. " Well ! yes," said Jane, with a smile on 
 her face, but a little hesitation of manner. " I don't 
 see how it could be avoided ; because I could not bo 
 K 4
 
 136 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 sure of being in Rilworth regularly, though it seems 
 
 hard to put off the most disagreeable part of the duty 
 
 upon you. The tracts we have are most of them 
 
 very old and very dirty, but Mr. Reeves promises us 
 
 a new set soon. I always put them in a basket 
 
 though," she added, laughing, " and go down the 
 
 back street, for I don't wish exactly to be known, 
 
 as the boys say, for one of the ladies that go ' a- 
 
 tracking.'" — " And what is the good of the tracts ?" 
 
 asked Katharine simply. " I suppose they may be 
 
 a good deal of good if the people read them, or if 
 
 when they read they can understand them," replied 
 
 Jane, " which sometimes I doubt. But at any rate, 
 
 they are useful in giving one an excuse for going to 
 
 houses w^hich otherwise one should have no reason 
 
 for visiting." — " And what do you do when you do 
 
 go to those houses ? " inquired Katharine. " Not 
 
 much," answered Jane, " perhaps only ask how the 
 
 people are, and say what a fine day it is, — but it is 
 
 a means of becoming acquainted with them, and 
 
 then if they are in distress they will come to one as 
 
 a friend. And there is a great deal of distress — 
 
 more than people have any idea of," she added, "in 
 
 those respectable rows of white cottages, with little 
 
 gardens before them, in the outskirts of Rilworth." 
 
 — "But," said Katharine, — and she paused — "if 
 
 people come to me in distress, I shall not know^ 
 
 what to say to them. I sliall only be able to tell 
 
 them to go to ]\Ir. Reeves." — " Precisely the very 
 
 thing," said Jane, in a tone of amusement ; " the 
 
 very direction which Mr. Reeves gives himself. If 
 
 the people are in distress, they must be sent to 
 
 him. But, Katharine, there is a great deal of trouble 
 
 in the world — not clergymen's trouble — not what 
 
 they can help ; little tiny things, about w^hich no 
 
 one w^ould like to take up their time, but wMiich I 
 
 am sure it is a great comfort to be able to tell to 
 
 some one; money troubles, and frettings of temper,
 
 KATHARINE ASIITON. 137 
 
 and discomforts ; and the better class of people have 
 just as much of this kind of care as the very poor, 
 and that is the reason why the tracts are good things. 
 Once a fortnight, at least, you have a reason for 
 going to them, and hearing something about their 
 affairs. And then there are so many little kindnesses 
 to be done, not a clergyman's work ; which no clergy- 
 man in fact could attend to; such as getting their 
 children admitted to schools, or finding places for 
 them as servants." Katharine looked a little aghast. 
 " You think it will take up a great deal of time," 
 said Jane, noticing the change in her counte- 
 nance. " Yes, more a great deal, I am afraid, 
 than I shall have to spare," was the reply. '^''It 
 does take time," continued Jane, "but you don't 
 know, Katharine, how much can be managed in that 
 way, by doing a little often. I never have been 
 as busy as you, but 1 have sometimes had a great 
 many interruptions and occupations, when people 
 have been staying with us ; and lately," she added, 
 blushing, " you know I have not been able to be my 
 own mistress ; but I have contrived still to go on 
 with the district. Sometimes I have not been able 
 to give round the tracts as often as I should, but I 
 never troubled myself about that. I did what I 
 could, and left the rest. And 1 used to manage to 
 go and see any persons I wanted to see particularly, 
 at odd times; sometimes just before 1 w^ent for a 
 walk, and sometimes when I came back ; and now 
 and then, if I was very much behindhand, I gave up 
 everything else for a day, and went out both in the 
 morning and the afternoon. I think tlie more one has 
 to do, the more time one learns to find to do it in." 
 — "And your mamma never objected to your going 
 about, then?" asked Katharine. " She would have 
 objected perhaps," said Jane, "if I had followed my 
 own way. She used to object sometimes at the
 
 138 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 place we lived in before we came to Rilworth, 
 because then I was so very much bent upon giving 
 up everything for my district, that I made myself 
 quite ill. But Mr. Reeves has been my help here. 
 He told me I might do what I could, and not vex 
 myself if it was little ; and he really scolded me one 
 day, when he found that I had given up reading with 
 mamma, because I thought I had not time for that 
 and the district too. He said that people who 
 could not discipline themselves in home duties were 
 not fit to go abroad and offer to help others." — " But 
 I don't know Mr. Reeves," said Katharine ; " I shall 
 have no one to help me." — '' But you will know him 
 if you are a district visitor/' said Jane, " because 
 you will go to the district meetings, and then you 
 will become acquainted with him. I was thinking," 
 she continued,! after a moment's consideration, 
 '• whether, if you really had any notion of kindly 
 helping me, you would go with me to-morrow 
 morning to the district meeting ; it is at eleven 
 o'clock. It would be the only opportunity we 
 might have of being there together." Katharine 
 could not suddenly acquiesce. She said she would 
 think over the matter, and talk to her parents, and 
 send Miss Sinclair an answer in the evening. One 
 difficulty more, an appalling one, presented itself to 
 her mind as she accompanied Jane to the street- 
 door. " When they are ill," she said, — and she 
 stopped Jane from proceeding further, — "do you 
 think it your duty to go and read to them, and talk 
 to them?" — "Now and then, to the old women 
 who are only sickly ; or sometimes, if Mr. Reeves 
 tells me, when it is a lingering case, and reading 
 is a comfort ; but I don't talk much, I don't know 
 how. I read what Mr. Reeves advises. It is better 
 here, a great deal," she continued, earnestly, " than 
 at Breme, where we were last. The clergyman did
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 139 
 
 not go about tliere as Mr. Reeves does, and it was 
 a very large parish ; and though I had only a few 
 houses in a good part of the town, because mamma 
 objected to anything else, there were some very 
 distressing cases, — people who were ill, and whom 
 I was nearly sure had been very careless and 
 wicked, but they were not dangerously ill, and so 
 the clergyman did not visit them much. I used to 
 long to say something to them, but I never knew 
 what. Now and then I read a little, but I did not 
 not know what to choose, and it seemed unkind not 
 to find out the comforting parts of the Bible, and 
 yet I was certain in my own mind that they wanted 
 to be roused and frightened. That was very bad ; 
 it almost made me feel as if I was doing more harm 
 than good. Perhaps I should have done better to 
 leave the matter alone; but I was not very experi- 
 enced, and the place was so poor, no one scarcely 
 went about to see the people except mamma and 
 myself. But it is very different here. Mr. Reeves 
 knows every one ; and if you ask him what you 
 ought to do, he will tell you at once, and then the 
 responsibility will be off your mind." 
 
 That was a comfort to Katharine ; yet it still 
 seemed a very awful undertaking to be a district 
 visitor. 
 
 A note was sent to Jane in the evening. 
 
 " Dear Miss Sinclair, 
 
 " My father and mother do not mind my 
 trying the district for a little while ; so, if you please, 
 I will go to the meeting to-morrow, if you will 
 kindly take me. I think you said eleven o'clock, 
 and I will try to be at your house at the time, 
 unless you had rather not. 
 
 " Believe me, dear Miss Sinclair, 
 
 " Yours sincerely and respectfully, 
 
 " Katharine Asuton."
 
 140 KATiiArjXE Asnxox. 
 
 It was a short note, easily read and easily un- 
 derstood by Jane, but it had cost Katharine a 
 great deal of trouble, or rather its contents had. 
 Mr. Ashton's prejudice against district visitors was 
 not the less violent because it had no tangible 
 foundation ; and Mrs. Ashton's fears that Katharine 
 would go into close, unwholesome rooms, and catch 
 a fever and die, were not the less vivid because 
 there was no precedent of any such dire calamity 
 in the annals of the Rilworth District Visiting 
 Society. Katharine had a hard task, aud she ac- 
 complished it with a tact which was more the re- 
 sult of instinct than of reasoning. She did not 
 attempt to argue, but she coaxed and pleaded, 
 and said how pleasant it would be to help Miss 
 Sinclair, and how much she should like to be 
 friends with Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, till Mr. Ashton's 
 good nature was won over, as usual, to consent to 
 anything which Katharine seemed to fancy ; and 
 Mrs. Ashton's maternal vanity was soothed by the 
 idea that her child's acquaintance with Miss 
 Sinclair would still be kept up. These Avere not 
 very high motives for such a consent, and it is 
 not said that they were the only ones. There 
 were many considerations of usefulness and kind- 
 ness brought forward, and talked over, but the 
 balance for and against the question was nearly 
 equal ; and nothing but a rigid self-examination, 
 to which neither Mr. Ashton nor his wife had ever 
 been accustomed, would liave enabled them to see 
 what it was that finally decided them. 
 
 Katharine was satisfied, but not glad. She was 
 undertaking what she felt to be a duty, but she did 
 not like the idea of it. One feeling she had was, 
 that it would be a check upon her freedom, a con- 
 stant claim, interfering with her walks and her 
 home pursuits. If she engaged in the work she
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 141 
 
 must, she felt, do it thoroughly, and then it would 
 be a care always upon her mind. She had an idea 
 that people can avoid responsibilities by not under- 
 taking them, overlooking the fact that there is a 
 responsibility of omission as pressing as that of 
 commission, and far more fearful, because, in the 
 generality of instances, we never wake up to be 
 conscious of it until it is too late to remedy our 
 neglect. She went to her room that night with the 
 sense of a burden upon her. Life seemed to have 
 more cares than she was prepared for; — there were 
 to be cares for other people as well as for her own 
 family ; but Katharine had no idea of shrinking 
 from the duty. She never had allowed herself to 
 do that, even in her childhood. At school, if a 
 lesson was to be learnt, whatever it might be, it 
 was begun and carried through without delay or 
 hesitation. Her moral step was slow, straight- 
 forward, and resolute ; slow to determine, straight- 
 forward in its direction, resolute in its progress. 
 As yet she wanted warmth and love ; but those are 
 the rewards of duty. Yet a feeling, momentary, 
 but not to be forgotten, did come over her as she 
 opened her Bible to read a few verses, according to 
 her constant practice, the last thing before she got 
 into bed — a solemn but thrilling sense of happiness, 
 and it followed upon the words, " Inasmuch as ye 
 have done it unto one of the least of these my 
 brethren, ye have done it unto Me." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Mr. Reeves' study, with the bookcase filled with 
 volumes of divinity, pamphlets, and ollicial reports —
 
 142 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 and the writing-table, inconvenient to all but one 
 person — and the great arm- chair taking up all the 
 space on one side of the fire-place — assumed an 
 awful aspect to Katharine when she entered it the 
 next morning, notwithstanding the support which 
 she received from Jane's presence. She could not 
 dispossess herself of the feeling that she was going 
 to make a profession of being better than her neigh- 
 bours ; and was really relieved when Mr. Reeves 
 shook hands in a good-humoured matter-of-fact way, 
 and, without any special remarks upon her new 
 duties, thanked her for offering her assistance, and 
 begged her to sit down. Mr. Reeves was an elderly 
 grey-headed man, with a singularly composed busi- 
 ness-like manner. He disappointed many people in 
 consequence. They said he did not impress them 
 in any way — they were not always reminded of his 
 being a clergyman. Perhaps that w^as a disadvan- 
 tage in some respects — it made his ordinary actions 
 less regarded ; but it had the effect of heightening 
 the value of his earnest advice when he did think it 
 necessary to give it. If such a very practical, 
 raatter-of-fact person thought certain duties and 
 feelings of importance, no one could doubt that 
 they were so. In his case there could be no fear of 
 an opinion being the result of poetical enthusiasm. 
 The generality of the persons assembled struck 
 Katharine as being of the same business-like cast, 
 not excepting even Jane Sinclair, wnth her graceful 
 refinement of manner and most melodious voice. 
 There were two or three elderly ladies, quiet, 
 steady people, who dressed in brown silks, and 
 always w^ore dark ribbons in their bonnets ; and 
 there were the Miss Lockes, two sisters, whose 
 father had been a clerk in some public office, and 
 whom Katharine knew perfectly by sight, though 
 she had never spoken to them ; and Mrs. Pearson, the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 143 
 
 widow of a great ironmonger, a bustling-mannered, 
 active person, who appeared to know the concerns 
 of every one as well as her own, and who was con- 
 stantly appealed to as an authority ; and a young, 
 timid-looking girl, whose name Katharine did not 
 know, but who, like herself, appeared only recently 
 to have entered the society ; and last, though not 
 least in her own estimation, Betsy Carter, the 
 eldest daughter of Mr. Carter the linendraper, the 
 same individual who had excited Mr. Ashton's anti- 
 pathy to district visitors. Three gentlemen visitors 
 also belonged to the society, but they were to have 
 private meetings of their own on another day. 
 The ladies sat round the room at some distance from 
 the table, and a little murmuring conversation went 
 on, whilst Mr. Reeves looked over some accounts. 
 They seemed all quite at home with Jane, and 
 shook hands with her, and inquired for Mrs. Sinclair; 
 and Jane was not as shy as usual, though she 
 coloured rather when Mrs. Pearson asked if it was 
 true that they were going to lose her as a district 
 visitor. Miss Carter was vehement in her regrets 
 when she heard Jane's answer, and equally vehe- 
 ment in her hope that Katharine would take ad- 
 vantage of the good instruction Miss Sinclair would 
 be sure to give ; and then she began to offer a little 
 advice of her own upon the best way of dealing 
 with Dissenters, which made Mr. Reeves put aside 
 his accounts, and, standing up, say, after glancing 
 round the room to see that all were present, " I am 
 sorry to say Mrs. Reeves is not well enough to be 
 here to-day, so perhaps we had better begin." 
 Every one knelt down, Katharine of course with 
 them ; but the prayers came upon her rather as a 
 surprise, and she could not collect her thoughts im- 
 mediately and attend properly. They were very 
 short, and Katharine did not exactly see why some
 
 144 KATHAKIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 of the collects which were used should have been 
 selected ; but the prayers gave her a feeling of unity, 
 and she felt as if it would not do to gossip and talk 
 upon useless subjects afterwards. Mr. Reeves re- 
 seated himself and asked for the reports. One of 
 the brown ladies happened to be sitting nearest to 
 him and delivered hers first. It was chiefly statis- 
 tical ; how many visits had been paid, how many 
 tickets given, &c. Mr. Reeves noted them in a book, 
 and gave the tickets required for the next month. 
 So he went round the circle, but not always without 
 comment. Some of the reports had cases of distress 
 marked down, and the details were given to Mr. 
 Reeves, or occasionally reserved for a private inter- 
 view. Other subjects were discussed more generally ; 
 these were, for the most part, when persons had re- 
 moved from one district to another, or w^hen, as was 
 frequently the case, the children of the family were 
 in fault, and then references were made to tlie rules 
 of the National Schools, and precedents quoted, and 
 opinions given in parliamentary style. Miss Carter 
 was especially prominent in her remarks, put- 
 ting Mr. Reeves right in two instances, and sug- 
 gesting to him that he had better call himself and 
 give some advice to a woman whose child had been 
 taken from the school unnecessarily. Katharine 
 quite felt with her father, that if it was necessary 
 for all district visitors to be like her, the office was 
 not a desirable one ; but Betsey was the exception. 
 Generally speaking, nothing could be more unpre- 
 tending, unexciting, even dull, than the meeting. 
 It required more imagination and more enthusiasm 
 than Katharine possessed, or than she thought 
 she was ever likely to possess, to elevate such 
 prosaic duties into a religious devotion to the ser- 
 vice of God. She wondered more and more that 
 Jane Sinclar, with her peculiarly high-bred tone
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 145 
 
 of thought and feeling, her cultivation of mind, and 
 dreamy poetic enthusiasm, the influence of which 
 Katharine always felt even when she did not com- 
 prehend it, could bring herself to work heartily 
 with persons so unlike herself, and not only listen 
 to, but thoroughly interest herself in the every-day 
 details of the lives of the poor. 
 
 Mr. Reeves was very kind and cordial in all he 
 said and did, and showed a wonderfully accurate 
 knowledge of his parish ; but his way of speaking 
 of everything was too business-like to be attractive. 
 It did not make Katharine feel that she could ask 
 him questions if she were in a difficulty ; yet she 
 saw that there was a general feeling of confidence 
 in him, and that he listened as attentively to small 
 matters as to great ones. Perhaps by and by she 
 might be more accustomed to him and more at ease; 
 if not, she thought there would be but little to 
 help her, and district visiting would be even more 
 difficult and disagreeable than she had imagined. 
 The tickets for the month were given to Jane, so 
 that Katharine really had nothing either to say or 
 to do. She grew very weary when the conversation 
 became discursive, and the Miss Lockes began 
 talking to one of the brown ladies about some of 
 their home affairs ; and Mrs. Pearson and Betsy 
 Carter entered into a long argument as to some new 
 kind of work which had been introduced into the 
 school. Mr. Reeves appeared to her to possess a 
 wonderful amount of patience; he finished his copy 
 of the reports, and waited without any irritation of 
 manner till Mrs. Pearson had concluded a descrip- 
 tion of a sampler worked when she was young, and 
 afterwards framed and glazed ; and then he stood 
 up as before, and said, "I think our business 
 is finished," and all knelt down again, and there 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 were two or three more short prayers, and the 
 meeting was at an end. 
 
 Some shook hands with Jane as they went away, 
 some did not ; but there was no question of worldly 
 distinction, only of degrees of acquaintance. In a 
 certain sense all were one — that was the chief im- 
 pression left upon Katharine's mind when the rest of 
 the visitors departed, and she, at Jane's request, re- 
 mained to speak to Mr. Reeves. Somehow, in spite 
 of the dulness, and dryness, and coldness, and odd 
 mixture of prayers and business, they were one. 
 
 Mr. Reeves' manner changed when he was left 
 alone with Katharine and Jane. He was very 
 methodical wdien he had business to do ; he showed 
 that he had not leisure for subjects not immediately 
 concerning his parish ; but the accounts and the 
 district tickets put aside, he took Katharine's hand 
 cordially, and said that it had given him great plea- 
 sure to see her there, — pleasure, if he might say so, 
 as much for her own sake as for that of the poor. 
 Katharine was a little frightened, and very much 
 pleased.—" She should like," she said, " to be of use, 
 but she was afraid she should make a very bad 
 visitor, especially after Miss Sinclair." — "Especially 
 with Miss Sinclair, you mean," said Jane, laughing. 
 — "I am not going to give up my poor people en- 
 tirely, Katharine." — " We hope not," said Mr. 
 Reeves, kindly ; " the poor people would be very 
 sorry. — But, my dear Miss Ashton, what I wanted 
 to say to you, and what I asked Miss Sinclair to 
 keep you behind for was, to beg you to come to me 
 at any time or any moment and let me know your 
 difficulties, and how I can help you. — You know," 
 he added, with a smile, " that I am especially bound 
 to aid those who are v/orking for me." — "If their 
 work is worth anything," said Katharine." — "Per- 
 haps I may be a better judge than you are of the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 147 
 
 value of the work," said Mr. Reeves ; " but one 
 thing I will venture to say, that if you will only 
 take courage and continue it, you will find it an in- 
 calculable blessing to yourself if not to your poor 
 people." — "Katharine has a faint heart, I am afraid," 
 said Jane, looking at her affectionately, and noticing 
 that she was pale, and had a more tired, distressed 
 air than usual. — " All our duties might give us 
 faint hearts if we had nothing besides to depend 
 upon," answered Mr. Reeves thoughtfully ; " but it 
 is quite true that district visiting — all visiting 
 amongst the poor — must give us faint hearts ; and 
 that is what I should like. Miss Ashton, and in fact 
 every one engaging in it, to consider beforehand. I 
 dread most especially sentimental enthusiasm in 
 such matters. It never lasts, and it always does 
 harm. The work which you have undertaken, my 
 dear Miss Ashton, is very up-hill and trying ; often 
 extremely disheartening, always to a certain degree 
 oppressive." — " And I don't think I shall have 
 time enough," said Katharine, bringing out boldly 
 the fear which at the moment weighed most upon 
 her. — " Perhaps not the time that you would 
 wish, but give what you can ; if every one did that, 
 the world would be a very different place from 
 what it is. And, to tell you the truth, I doubt if you, 
 or any person who has not been accustomed to 
 really hard work, can at all tell how much it is pos- 
 sible to do in the day." — " And Katharine need only 
 learn by degrees, need she ?" observed Jane. "She 
 may begin Avith very little, and then go on to 
 more — that is what I did." — " But I should not like 
 that," replied Katharine ; " I should be glad to 
 know at once all that I have to undertake, and then 
 I should be able to make up my mind to it." — " Is 
 not that a little impatient?" asked Mr. Reeves. 
 "It is not the way in which it is God's will to deal 
 
 L 2
 
 148 KATHAPwINE ASHTOX. 
 
 with us. He begins with us gently, and leads us 
 on step by step. I think we might do well to prac- 
 tice something of the same lesson in dealing with 
 ourselves. I should rather advise that Miss Sin- 
 clair's experience slionld be your guide. She knows 
 all the poor people, and she will tell you what she 
 has been accustomed to do, and which are the most 
 pressing cases to be attended to. If you will con- 
 tent yourself with these for a beginning, I think 
 you will do wisely ; and don't look forward, don't 
 try to fancy what you will do in any sudden emer- 
 gency or difficulty, but go on quietly from day to 
 day, doing, as I said before, what you can — only," 
 he added more seriously, " let it be wdiat you can, — 
 not what you happen to w^ish or like." — " That is 
 not in Katharine's way," said Jane ; "the fear with 
 her will be that she will overwork herself." — Katha- 
 rine was thoughtful for a moment ; then she said : 
 " No, Miss Sinclair, it is not that. I can work very 
 hard when I see what I have to do, but I am not 
 quick in seeing." — "A common fault," remarked Mr. 
 Reeves, in a tone of kindness which Katharine felt 
 
 to be very encouraging, " especially amongst" 
 
 He seemed a little doubtful how to express him- 
 self. — "Amongst tradespeople?" said Katharine. 
 He smiled. — "Not exclusively amongst trades- 
 people ; they form part of the class I mean — a large 
 part, certainly; — but generally speaking amongst 
 persons who lead useful, domestic lives, and have 
 daily business to attend to." — " They are so very 
 useful already," said flane, " it seems hard to expect 
 them to think of anything more. Idle people, like 
 myself, on the contrary, would be miserable without 
 the work." — " Exactly so ; and yet, my dear INIiss 
 Sinclair, Avhen one looks at the present state of Eng- 
 land, and its vast needs, it is impossible not to feel 
 that all — not only idle people, but busy people— must
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 149 
 
 exert themselves, if any radical improvement is to 
 be etfected." — " And there are not many idle people 
 in Rilworth," said Katharine. — " No, nor in any of 
 our country towns. The influential persons are per- 
 sons in trade ; and if real good amongst the lower 
 classes is to be effected, it must be by their means." 
 — " They don't all think so," said Katharine, quickly, 
 as she remembered how strange this doctrine would 
 sound to her father and mother. — "I don't think 
 they do," replied Mr. Reeves; "there are many ex- 
 ceptions of course ; but very often they seem to 
 consider the care of the poor as the peculiar pro- 
 vince of the clergyman, assisted, perhaps, by one or 
 two idle persons, like Miss Sinclair. And so it is," 
 he added, " that I hail with greater satisfaction a 
 recruit from the business ranks than I do from any 
 other. Your example, my dear Miss Ashton, may 
 do more than Miss Sinclair's, and she will not mind 
 my saying so." — " But I never thought about the 
 duty before," said Katharine, " and I don't see why 
 I am to expect that others should." — " One may 
 hope, though one may not venture to expect," said 
 Mr. Reeves ; " I quite agree with you that it is dif- 
 ficult to open people's eyes to new duties, and espe- 
 cially so when they have already enough before 
 them to occupy all their attention. But that is the 
 peculiar danger of persons in business, in any busi- 
 ness, whether professional or trading. They seem to 
 have no surplus either of time, or thought, or money, 
 and it does not enter their heads that they ought to 
 make any." — "And then people are shy," said Katha- 
 rine, in an apologetic tone. " I should never have 
 liked to oflTer myself if it had not been ibr Miss 
 Sinclair." — Mr. Reeves looked pained, not at Katha- 
 rine's speech, but at something in his own mind. — 
 "Yes," he said, "our English exclusiveness comes 
 in there — we are all afraid of each other." — " We 
 
 L 3
 
 150 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 need not be," said Jane, and she involuntarily 
 glanced at Katharine, as if feeling that in her case 
 there could be no obstacle in the way of kindly 
 feeling. " There are faults on both sides," said Mr. 
 Reeves, '• but I will not enter upon that subject now. 
 Some day or other, when Miss Ashton and I are 
 better acquainted, we may be able to talk about it. 
 Besides," and he took out his watch, "I must send 
 you away now, for I have a person coming to 
 me on business at half-past twelve." 
 
 Could it be so late? Katharine did not believe 
 it possible ; the time had gone very quickly, at 
 least the latter part of it. " Then you will apply 
 to me in any difficulty," said Mr. Reeves, as Katha- 
 rine wished him good-bye ; " and you must let me 
 call and see you sometimes, and bring Mrs. Reeves 
 with me : she will be able to help you in many 
 matters which are out of my province. I need not 
 say," he added very earnestly, " that new duties are 
 a reason for new prayers. We shall all go wrong 
 if we forget that." 
 
 Katharine went home with Jane, and they spent 
 another half-hour in going over the names of 
 the people in the district, and settling what was 
 to be done with them. Jane very much wished 
 to have gone round with Katharine, and thus to 
 have introduced her to the people whom she did 
 not know ; but it was not possible ; the next 
 three days would be incessantly employed ; and 
 Colonel Forbes (though Jane did not say so) was 
 so exacting, so grudging of every moment of her 
 time, that she could not venture to undertake any 
 new work. All she could do was to give Katha- 
 rine the tracts which were to be distributed the 
 next time, properly numbered and marked ; and to 
 advise her, when she went to any house, to say that 
 she was come instead of Miss Sinclair, who hoped
 
 KATIIAEIXE ASHTOX. 151 
 
 to pay tliem a visit again very soon. Jane heaved 
 a sigh of mingled relief and regret as she gave 
 Katharine her tract basket, and delivered up the 
 tickets which were to supply the district for the 
 next month. " It seems saying good-bye to it all/' 
 she said; " I can never again do what I have done. 
 Oh ! Katharine, how good-byes make one wish that 
 one had done better!" Katharine put the basket 
 on the table — her heart almost misgave her. " That 
 was naughty of me," said Jane, " I have frightened 
 you, but I did not intend it. One thing I can say 
 honestly, that I would not but have done it for all 
 that the world can give." Katharine took up the 
 basket again, but she was very grave. " I shall 
 not see you again, dear Miss Sinclair, only on 
 Thursday. What time must I be here ? " — " At 
 half-past ten, if you don't mind waiting. I should 
 not like to miss you, and I might if you came 
 later." — " And you will never be Miss Sinclair 
 again," observed Katharine. " Do you mind my 
 saying, I shall never like tlie other name as well?" 
 — " Wait till you are used to it," said Jane, with 
 a bright smile ; " and Katharine, I promise you, 
 whatever I may be in name to others, I will 
 always be Miss Sinclair in heart to you." Katha- 
 rine's heart was too full for any words ; her pres- 
 sure of Jane's hand was almost convulsive ; and. 
 gathering up the tickets which were scattered on 
 the table, she hurried away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was Thursday morning. Katharine came doAvn 
 
 to breakfast, dressed in a dark green silk, her 
 
 ♦ Sund;iy dress ; Mrs. Ashton in a dark brown one. 
 
 L 4
 
 152 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 The breakfast hour was eight, rather before than 
 after; but this morning Mr. Ashton was particu- 
 larly busy, and they were late. Katharine tried 
 not to be impatient. " Mother, dear," she said, 
 after they had waited more than ten minutes, 
 " don't you think I might go and hurry my father? 
 I should be so sorry not to get a good place." — 
 " Yes ; and tell him the tea has been standing 
 nearly a quarter of an hour ; he can't bear cold 
 tea." Katharine put the tea-kettle on the fire to 
 avoid the necessity of such a punishment, and went 
 to call her father, stopping, as she passed the win- 
 dow, to look out, in order to be quite sure that the 
 morning was going to be fine. " We are to begin 
 breakfast without him," she said, as slie came back. 
 *' Mr. Fowler is just come in." — "Then no need 
 for us to trouble ourselves about him," observed Mrs. 
 Ashton, " they will be talking for another lialf- 
 Iiour. Where's John?" — "Not down yet, but I 
 suppose he will be directly ; that won't do for the 
 farm, mother, will it ?" — " He will get up fast 
 enough when he has business of his own to attend 
 to," said Mrs. Ashton, w^ho could not endure the 
 slightest imputation upon her son : " your father 
 never got up properly till he was forced to do it. 
 But sit down, Kitty, and give me some tea, and make 
 haste, for I must give Susan directions about the 
 market before w^e go to the church." Katliarine 
 did not talk very much during breakfust, thougli 
 she answered all lier mother said with a very tolerable 
 show of attention. She was obliged to be more 
 alive to common matters however, when her father 
 came in, which he did when breakfast w^as about 
 half over, and happily after, and not before, John 
 made his appearance. His first exclamation drew 
 from her the plan of the day's proceedings. " AVhy 
 how brave you look, Kitty, this morning I And
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 153 
 
 you too, wife ! What's the matter with you both ? 
 John, my boy, you and I are not half-good enough 
 for such company." — " One would think they were 
 going to be married," said John, gazing on his 
 sister's pleasant face, and slight, neat figure, with 
 evident complacency ; " I'm sure Kitty is smart 
 enough." — " Who knows but what I may be going 
 to be married? one of these days, that is," said 
 Katharine, laughing ; " but, John, I really am 
 going to see a wedding, and my father knows it, only 
 he has forgotten it." — " Of course I have," said Mr. 
 Ashton. " What is the use of remembering such 
 fooleries ? Bad enough to have made a show of 
 oneself once in one's life, hey, wife ? Do you re- 
 member my fine blue coat, and how it did not come 
 in time from the tailor's, and how your father 
 offered to lend me the one he was married in ? I 
 warrant, Kate, your Colonel and his bride won't 
 have anything half so fine as that." — " I dare say 
 not," said Katharine ; " but I don't much care for 
 Colonel Forbes, only I hope he will make Miss 
 Sinclair happy." — " So like you women," said Mr. 
 Ashton, " all for dress : a bridegroom is nobody, 
 because he doesn't wear a white veil and orange 
 flowers." — " Well ! somehow," observed Mrs. Ash- 
 ton, " one does think very little of the bridegroom 
 at a wedding," — " Except that it could not go on 
 without him," said John, a little fiercely, think- 
 ing, probably, of his own prospective happiness, 
 and not choosing to be so overlooked. " No 
 one would be lilvcly either to overlook Colonel 
 Forbes," he added, " he will make himself first 
 wherever he is." — " And very right, too," observed 
 Mr. Ashton ; " defend me from a man who is ruled 
 by his wife." — " Miss Sinclair is much more likely to 
 spoil her husband than to rule him," said Katharine. 
 *' I should like to know what you mean by spoiling,
 
 154 KATHAKINE ASHTOX. 
 
 Kate," said John. — "" Aye, let us hear," added Mr. 
 Ashton ; " it won't do, you know, John, to have 
 bad counsel given by-and-by, will it ?" — " No," 
 replied John, wnth a smile ; for he was always 
 pleased when any allusion was made to his own 
 marriage. " I won't have bad notions put into 
 Selly's head, I warn you of that, Kitty I" — "^ I 
 should be very sorry to put bad notions, as you 
 call them, into any one's head," replied Katharine ; 
 " and I don't know much about how people go on 
 when they are married ; but I do think that living 
 with a person like Miss Sinclair, w^ho would be 
 always giving up her own will, would be spoiling to 
 any one." — " Trust Miss Sinclair for that ! " replied 
 John ; " she will know fast enough how to have a will 
 of her own when she is Mrs. Forbes. Where is 
 the woman who does not know it ?" — '''Aye, where ?" 
 echoed Mr. Ashton, triumphantly. " I just ask yon 
 now, wife, whether, when there's a question between 
 you and me, you don't always carry the day ?" — " I 
 can't say for that, my dear," was the reply. " I 
 think it's pretty equal; but we don't often have 
 questions that I can remember." — "But," said 
 Katharine, "what I should call spoihng would not 
 be giving up in great matters, but being afraid 
 to differ, and ab.vays humouring little fancies, and 
 that sort of thing." — "■ And that you wouldn't do, 
 Kitty, hey ?" asked Mr. Ashton ; " take my advice, 
 and never let that secret out, or depend upon it you'll 
 never get a husband." — " I don't say that I should 
 not do it," said Katharine. " I dare say if I was 
 very fond of a person I should, because I should 
 like to please him ; but it wouldn't be the less spoil- 
 ing for that, and it would not be the less likely to 
 make a man selfish, and so end in taking away one's 
 respect." Katharine did not add, " That is what I 
 am afraid for Miss Sinclair;" she could not bear
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 155 
 
 to realise her own fears, especially before those who 
 would not be likely to understand them. " Well ! 
 you must have a husband made expressly for you, 
 Kitty," said Mr. Ashton ; " it is not every one that 
 will do for you, that's clear. I should have thought 
 now such a man as Colonel Forbes was just the 
 person likely to take every woman's fancy — good 
 looking, and smooth spoken, with an air of being 
 somebody which there's no mistaking. I wonder 
 what you would Avant more ?" — " I couldn't say," 
 replied Katharine, " and happily for me I am not 
 obliged to say — I am not going to marry Colonel 
 Forbes." — " But still what would you wish more ?" 
 inquired John. "I should just like to know for curi- 
 osity's sake." — "Well," replied Katharine, " it would 
 be hard to tell ; but in any case I should like to be 
 quite sure of what a man is at home as well as 
 abroad, and I should like to hear something about 
 him from his mother and sisters, if he had any. I 
 have a great notion that a man who does not make 
 himself pleasant in his own family is not likely to do 
 so in the long run to his wife." — " Nonsense, " ex- 
 claimed John," howwould you get the sisters to speak 
 the truth about their brother ? " — " There, again, I 
 don't know how I should do it," replied Katharine ; 
 " but there would be certainly some way of finding 
 out. At any rate, if his own family were not much 
 to him, which is easily known by a person's way 
 of talking, I should think that I had better not 
 have anything to do with him." — "Vastly prudent, 
 Kitty," said Mr. Ashton, laughing ; " but, unfortu- 
 nately, you don't know anything about the matter. 
 People tumble into love and marry, and then begin 
 to ask questions when tlie deed is done. As for Co- 
 lonel Forbes, I never heard he had any sisters or 
 mother either." — "Oh! yes he lias," replied Katha- 
 rine, "sisters at least; two of them are to be Miss
 
 156 KATHARINE ASIITON. 
 
 Sinclair's bridesmaids." — " Well, they can't have been 
 much at Maplestead," observed Mr. Ashton, "or we 
 should have been sure to have seen them." — "He is 
 a curious man, the Colonel," said John, thoughtfully. 
 "I have been talking to some of his tenants lately, and 
 they say they would rather confront a wild bull than 
 thwart him." — " Passionate is he ? " said Mr. Ashton, 
 "I should not have thought that." — "Not pas- 
 sionate," replied John ; " but he just turns off and 
 says nothing, and does n't forget." — " Umph ! " 
 was Mr. Ashton's comment. Katharine did not 
 v.'ant to hear anything further. She asked if any 
 one wished for more tea, and when the answer was 
 given in the negative, rose from the table, locked the 
 tea-caddy, and went up stairs. — " Kate does not like 
 the Colonel, but she won't have him abused," said 
 John Ashton, as his sister left the room — " That's 
 natural enough," replied Mrs. Ashton, " so fond as 
 she is of Miss Sinclair. But what is the use of 
 troubling about it all beforehand. When people 
 are married they must get on somehow^" — "Or 
 anyhow, hey, wife?" observed Mr. Ashton, patting 
 his wife on the shoulder. " But never mind, the 
 ' anj^how^' has done well enough for us, and we will 
 hope it will do the same for the Colonel and Miss 
 Sinclair. 
 
 Katharine was provoked with herself for having 
 encouraged the conversation. It had filled her with 
 uncomfortable thoughts. She w'ished that she had 
 been contented to go as she had promised, and say 
 "good-bye" to Jane, and had not persuaded her 
 mother to accompany her to the church. Then she 
 might have stolen aw^ay quietly, and nothing would 
 have been said. She did not like it to be supposed 
 that she had any feeling against Colonel Forbes, it 
 was so silly. What reason had she for disliking 
 him ? She who, except on that one occasion at the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 157 
 
 ball, had never exchanged half a dozen words with 
 him. And why should she not trust to Jane Sin- 
 clair's opinion ? Why should the fact of his ap- 
 parent separation from his family, and the chance 
 opinion expressed of him by a tenant, tell more 
 against him in her mind than all Jane's devoted ad- 
 miration and affection ? She tried to shake off the 
 impression, and, putting on her bonnet, went into 
 the kitchen to her mother to see if she could help 
 her in any way before they went out; and then she 
 returned to the parlour, and when Susan had taken 
 away the breakfast things busied herself with put- 
 ting it in order, arranging the books in their 
 shelves, and dusting the little china ornaments on 
 the mantelpiece — anything rather than stand still 
 and think that it was Jane Sinclair's wedding-day. 
 " Come, Kitty, are you ready ; we shall be late ;" 
 and Mrs. Ashton, having kept her daughter waiting 
 for at least ten minutes, became at last extremely 
 impatient. — "One moment, mother." Katharine 
 folded up her duster and put it where it was always 
 kept, in the drawer of the bureau, and hurried after 
 Mrs. Ashton. — " Ten was the time I think you said, 
 Kate? Just look up at the town-clock ; my eyes are 
 rather weak this morning. It wants twenty mi- 
 nutes, doesn't it?" — "Yes, mother, just twenty; 
 we shall be in very good time and no one will take 
 our seat." — " I don't know that, Kitty. Folks are 
 not over particular at a wedding." — Mrs. Ashton 
 quickened her step, so that Katharine could scarcely 
 keep pace with her. Happily there was in conse- 
 quence no fear of talking, and no leisure for thinking. 
 At the church-door a crowd of idle boys and untidy 
 women were assembled, and a few well-dressed per- 
 sons were straggling into the building one after the 
 other; but there Avere not so very many, as Mrs. 
 Ashton remarked, so it was to be hoped their seat
 
 158 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 was not taken. It would have been if they had 
 been five minutes later, for it was one of the best 
 seats in the church for seeing ; — in the transept, but 
 close to the chancel. The west end of tlie church 
 was hidden, but that did not so much signify. A 
 good deal of walking about and whispering was 
 going on between the clerk and the sexton, and 
 benches were being moved from the chancel, so 
 as to give greater space. It was not much like the 
 preparation for a religious service, and the people 
 in the pews were some standing up, some sitting 
 down, and all looking about. Katharine placed 
 herself as much out of sight as possible behind a 
 pillar, and then she knelt down and prayed, not only 
 the usual prayer, that she might remember that she 
 was in the house of God, but a special one, deeply, 
 intensely earnest, for Jane Sinclair, — for her happi- 
 ness — her goodness ; — for happiness even more than 
 for goodness. Katharine had faith in the one ; she 
 did not know why she distrusted the other. She 
 sat down afterwards and tried not to be disturbed 
 by all the movement about her; and looked steadily 
 at the altar and the coloured glass in the east win- 
 dow in order to sober her thoughts, till at last there 
 were sounds of carriage-wheels, and her mother 
 whispered, " They are coming, Kate," and then, 
 like every one else, she turned towards the entrance 
 to look. They came up the aisle — a party of gaily- 
 dressed ladies in their brilliant silks and muslins, 
 and gentlemen in full dress — and crowded into the 
 chancel ; and Mr. Reeves came out from the vestry 
 and took his place at the altar ; and, after a very 
 short delay, Jane Sinclair followed, leaning upon 
 the arm of her uncle — her mother's only brother. 
 Katharine saw that she was dressed in white, that 
 she wore a white veil, but she noticed nothing else, 
 not even the young bridesmaids who followed ; only,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON 159 
 
 as the little procession entered the chancel, she bent 
 forward to look at Jane's sweet colourless face, and 
 saw that it Avas untroubled in its inward peace, 
 though very serious; and her own heart grew lighter 
 and beat less anxiously. 
 
 The wedding party ranged themselves round the 
 altar, and Katharine could see little of any coun- 
 tenance then, except that of Mrs. Sinclair. She 
 ■was standing close to Jane, but so as rather to look 
 down the church. It was a face not easily to be 
 read; time had traced upon it the furrow^s of many 
 griefs; they seemed more deeply imprinted upon 
 it at that moment than they had ever been before ; 
 But were they the sorrows of the past or the future? 
 — Katharine could not guess; but she thought of the 
 lonely hearth, the empty chamber, and marvelled 
 that a wedding should ever be considered gay. 
 
 And the service began and continued without 
 pause. The promise was made to love, and comfort, 
 and honour, and keep in sickness and in health; and 
 who that looked upon the gallant, honourable, true- 
 hearted English gentleman, and the gentle girl 
 at his side, so graceful in her loving timidity, yet 
 so honest in the open avowal of her affection, could 
 doubt that the vow would be kept ? 
 
 Not Katharine. As they knelt together at the 
 altar, and she heard Jane, with a clear voice, steadily 
 and unfalteringly give her troth, every shadow of 
 misgiving vanished. 
 
 To grieve her, to disappoint her, — so pure, so 
 unselfish, so devoted, it would be impossible I Only 
 one pang shot through Katharine's mind as they left 
 the church. It had been Jane's wish that the 
 service should be concluded with the Holy Com- 
 munion. Why was this — the first wish of lier 
 married life — set aside ? 
 
 Katharine and her mother parted at the church-
 
 160 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 door — Mrs. Ashton to hurry home and see that 
 nothing had gone wrong in her absence, Katharine 
 to make her way as well as she could through the 
 crowfl, and hasten through quiet, back streets to 
 Mrs. Sinclair's house. She was expected, and the 
 servants took her up stairs to Jane's dressing-room. 
 The lobby on the outside was filled with a large 
 imperial, and several smaller packages and baskets, 
 ranged ready for departure; her maid was busy 
 putting up the few last things. Katharine asked if 
 she could be of any use, and occupied a few moments 
 in assisting to fold some dresses, but she was soon 
 interrupted. The carriage had driven back quickly, 
 and Jane stayed but a short time in the drawing-room 
 to receive the congratulations of her friends, and 
 then was hurried away by Colonel Forbes to prepare 
 for her journey. 
 
 Two of the bridesmaids (Colonel Forbes' sisters) 
 accompanied her ; they all came into the room 
 together, and Katharine drew back. Jane looked 
 eagerly round the room. " I thought — Oh ! Katha- 
 rine, you are there. How kind of you !" She held 
 out her hand to Katharine, and a warm pressure 
 was interchanged. But Katharine could only say 
 "Dear Miss Sinclair," and then blush, and apolo- 
 gise, and retreat again to the side of the lady's-maid. 
 "Please go down stairs, dear," said Jane, addressing 
 her sisters-in-law, "and do what you can to make Philip 
 patient, and I will be ready in two minutes. And 
 don't let them keep dear mamma talking in the draw- 
 ing-room, I must have her with me." jNIrs. Sinclair 
 was already at the dressing-room door, and Miss 
 Forbes and her sister retreated. Katharine was 
 going too. " No, please not," and Jane laid her 
 hand upon her arm to stop her; "you will help 
 me." Mrs. Sinclair came in as quietly composed 
 as in her every-day life, only there was a little
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 161 
 
 tremulousness in her voice, as she said, " My child, 
 are you ready?" Jane threw herself into her arms: 
 "My own mother! how cruel to leave you !" She 
 sat down in a chair and buried her face in her 
 hands. Mrs. Sinclair stooped down and kissed her, 
 and whispered something in her ear; and Jane rose 
 up self-collected and tearless, but she could not speak 
 again. Her mother and the maid assisted her to 
 change her dress, and Katharine took the rich white 
 silk, and folded it, and laid it in the trunk left open 
 for it. The room looked out into the street, and 
 they heard the servants packing the carriage, and 
 Colonel Forbes giving orders. Some one came for 
 the last box, and Katharine helped the maid to carry 
 it out of tiie room, and returned alone. She felt 
 then that she must go, and she went up to Jane and 
 asked if she could do anything else for her. Jane 
 took her hand, and placed on her finger a small ring. 
 " Please wear it, dear Katharine, and remember me, 
 and to-day ; — and pray for me," she added, in a low, 
 broken whisper, as she bent forward and kissed her 
 forehead. The eager blood rushed to Katharine's 
 cheek : — " Remember you. Miss Sinclair, — how 
 could I ever forget ? " She turned away, and 
 walked slowly down the stairs. 
 
 Katharine stood in the hall with the servants; she 
 could not make up her mind to go till she had seen 
 the carriage drive oif. There was great bustle and 
 confusion in the house, andagooddeal of talkingin the 
 drawing-room; in the dining-room servants and wai- 
 ters were preparing the wedding breakfast. Colonel 
 Forbes came several times into the hall, and went 
 out to the carriage to see that everything was pro- 
 perly packed, for he did not seem to like trusting 
 to servants. He was extremely particular about, 
 all Jane's packages, and made the maid tell him 
 what she would especially want, and got into the 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 carriage himself to be sure that everything was 
 placed comfortably for her. "Now, is that the last?" 
 lie said, as the small trunk which Katharine had 
 assisted to pack, was lifted up to the carriage-box. 
 " Yes, sir, ail." — " Then go, and tell your mistress 
 that we have not a moment to spare." He took out 
 his watch and held it in his hand, counting the 
 minutes as he walked up and down the hall. Jane 
 appeared immediately, not with her mother, but her 
 uncle. Her veil was down, but Katharine saw the 
 large tears rolling down her cheek. Colonel Forbes 
 took her from her uncle, whom he shook heartily 
 but impatiently by the hand, handed her into the 
 carriage, and placed himself behind her. " My 
 shawl — I have forgotten my shawl," Katharine heard 
 her say. Before any one else could move, Katharine 
 had rushed up herself to the dressing-room for it. 
 She brought it to the carriage-door. " Thank you, 
 thank you," said Colonel Forbes, as he took it from 
 her. " Anything else, my love ? " and he turned to 
 his wife, — "then drive on." He closed the door 
 with a loud sound. Katharine saw Jane's nod, 
 and sweet smile of thanks, and she heard also the 
 Colonel's eager words, as he threw himself back in 
 the carriage, and drew his wife towards him — "' Now, 
 at last, my own." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "Kate, what are you doing with all those dirty 
 little books ? " asked Mrs. Ashton. Katharine was 
 seated at the table with a pile of district tracts 
 before her. " Marking them, mother, to give round ; 
 arranging them rather, I should say, for they are
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 163 
 
 marked. Miss Sinclair — Mrs. Forbes, I mean — 
 marked them for me." — " What blunders you do 
 make about names, child," said Mrs. Ashton ; " your 
 father told me that it was only yesterday you 
 happened to be in the shop, when Mrs. Sinclair 
 came in, and you asked her if she had heard from 
 Miss Sinclair." — " Not very strange," replied Katha- 
 rine, "considering that I have known one name so 
 much longer than the other. By the by, mother, 
 Mrs. Sinclair said they were gone into Wales to see 
 some friends, and they would not be at Maplestead for 
 another month." — " It seems a wonderfully long time 
 since they went away," observed Mrs. Ashton ; " no 
 one would think it was only this day week." — "And 
 I have not been round with the tracts yet," said 
 Katharine. " I don't know what Mr. Reeves will 
 say to me." — " What you will say to him is the 
 chief matter," replied Mrs. Ashton ; " you must tell 
 him that you have been very busy, and that the 
 weather has been very bad, and the only fine day, 
 which was yesterday, I wanted you to go out 
 with me." — " All the more reason why I must go 
 round the district to-day," said Katharine ; " you 
 don't want me at home, mother, do you, fur any- 
 thing ? " — " There's the new tablecloth to be 
 hemmed," said Mrs. Ashton ; " and I told Peggy 
 Dore, that if she would have the body of my new 
 gown ready by Saturday, you and I would finish 
 the skirt." — "But Susan can hem the tablecloth," 
 said Katharine. " I know she is not busy this 
 afternoon; and if I work hard, mother, this evening, 
 I think I can make up the skirt in time ; there is 
 not much to be done to it. To-morrow, you 
 know, John wants you, and me, and Selina too, to 
 go over to Moorlands in Mr. Fowler's chaise; so 1 
 can't go anywhere else then. That farm is beginning 
 to take up a great deal of time," she added, laugh- 
 M 2
 
 164 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 ing ; " it is much worse than the district." — " I don't 
 know that," replied Mrs. Ashton ; " the farm is a 
 good way off, and the district is close ; but I suppose 
 you must go, Kitty, as you promised Mrs. Forbes 
 you would ; only don't be late for tea, and mind if 
 there's any fever your father won't choose you to go 
 near it." 
 
 Katharine promised all that was required, and 
 ran up stairs to put on her bonnet. " It is worse 
 tlian going to a dentist, I declare," she said, as she 
 came back into the parlour to fetch the tracts and 
 arrange them in the covered basket ; " I don't 
 know what in the world I shall say to the people, 
 and I am sure I shall get confused with the names. 
 Let me see : Long-lane comes first ; then the houses 
 in Briton's-court, and the south end of Woodgate- 
 street. I never know in Rilworth which is south 
 and w^hich is north. The south end, mother, must 
 be where Anne Crossin lives. I don't know quite 
 now," she continued, looking at some of Jane's me- 
 moranda, " whether I am to take in both sides of 
 the way; however, I need not trouble about 
 that to-day ; Long-lane will be as much as I can 
 manage in one afternoon, let me work as hard as I 
 may. Good-bye, mother, dear, and wish me well 
 through it." And she went up to her mother, and 
 gave her a half merry, half nervous kiss, and 
 set off. 
 
 Katharine was obliged to go a little way up 
 High- street to arrive at Long-lane ; and on her 
 way she met several people whom she knew, but 
 she did not stop to speak to them. She had a 
 fancy that everybody must be able to tell the con- 
 tents of the covered brown basket. But there was 
 one of the Miss Lockes stealing into a back street, 
 no doubt, like herself, going into her district. It 
 was singular to find what a bond of sympathy the
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON". 165 
 
 idea created. She who had known nothing of Miss 
 Locke before, except by sight, felt now that she was 
 quite like a companion and friend. Jemmy Dawes' 
 cottage was the only house, except the alms-houses, 
 that she had ever been into in Long-lane ; and that 
 was at the further end, near Briton's-court, and the 
 tracts were numbered in regular order for her to 
 begin at the corner of High-street. Katharine 
 turned into the lane, and stopped before a little 
 green door — a very puzzling door : it did not look 
 quite like the entrance to a poor person's house, 
 and yet it could not well belong to anything else ; 
 and besides, she had been told that some of the 
 houses in Jane's district looked so respectable that 
 no one would imagine they were inhabited by 
 persons in want. She pondered for some seconds, 
 and then, with a sudden bold impulse, tapped at the 
 door. No answer was made, and she lifted the 
 latch. The door opened into a garden ; but there 
 was another low open door close by, and within was 
 what looked like a labourer's kitchen. Katharine 
 was hesitating whether to advance or draw back, 
 when a pleasant-featured homely young woman 
 came out of the house, and asked her to walk in ; 
 and of course she entered. The young woman 
 did not ask her to sit down in the kitchen, as she 
 expected, but led the way through a stone passage, 
 opened another door, and calling out, " A lady come 
 to see you, ma'am," ushered Katharine into a long, 
 low room, furnished with great neatness, and 
 lighted by two deep windows, in which were placed 
 stands of geraniums, and a cage with a canary. 
 In this apartment two most respectable elderly 
 females were seated, one knitting, the other reading 
 to her. Katharine's impulse was to rush away, 
 throw aside her tracts, and never attempt district 
 visiting again. "Pray sit down." said the elder of 
 
 M 3
 
 166 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 the two respectable ladies, offering her a chair. 
 But Katharine declined ; " she had made a mis- 
 take," she said ; " she hoped they would excuse it, 
 for she had really no intention of intruding." The 
 two ladies looked at her with an expression in their 
 countenances, which, in spite of their amiability, 
 showed surprise and a little nervousness. " I beg 
 your pardon ; have you no business ? — nothing to 
 gay?" — "Nothing at all," was Katharine's reply, 
 dictated by her native boldness ; and then recover- 
 ing herself, she added, with a blush, " I — I am a 
 district visitor." — " Oh!" The elderly ladies under, 
 stood the mistake in a moment: — she had entered 
 by the back door ; there was not the slightest occa- 
 sion for an apology ; would she not sit down and 
 rest ? Katharine declined, but she could not go 
 without making an excuse ; and she explained that 
 she was a stranger to her work, — this was the first 
 time she had undertaken to go round the district, — 
 she had taken it for Miss Sinclair — Mrs. Forbes. 
 " Oh ! then, we have not the pleasure of speaking to 
 Miss Sinclair," said the reading lady, adjusting her 
 spectacles, for a nearer inspection of Katharine's 
 face. " My name is Ashton," replied Katharine ; 
 and the two ladies gave a simultaneous start, which 
 made her start also. " Ashton ! Oh ! yes, to be 
 sure ; Mr.Ashton, the bookseller's daughter. How 
 stupid of us ! But — " and they turned to each other 
 — " did you ever see anything so grown and 
 altered ?" — " You don't recollect us, my dear," con- 
 tinued the reading lady, " but we recollect 3'ou ; 
 yes, a good long time ago, we can assure you. 1 dare 
 say you may have heard our names — Konaldson, 
 sisters of Harry Konaldson, of Shene : but ah!" 
 and there came a heavy sigh, " that was before your 
 time." — " You must know our nephew Charlie, 
 though, — I am sure you know him," interrupted
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 167 
 
 the knitting lady; "I have heard him speak of 
 you many a time." The familiar name was the 
 greatest relief possible to Katharine. She had 
 stumbled, then, upon the two Miss Ronaldsons, who 
 had lately, she knew, settled in Rilworth. It was 
 quite a pleasant acquaintance, and would be par- 
 ticularly so for her mother ; there would be so 
 many reminiscences of old times to talk about. She 
 sat down, and her new friends drew their chairs 
 nearer to her, and scarcely waiting for her to 
 speak, began to ask a series of questions about 
 uncles, and aunts, and cousins, some of whom were 
 dead, whilst others she had never heard of. But 
 the Miss Ronaldsons appeared to have an inti- 
 mate acquaintance with all; and they could re- 
 member her mother's wedding-day, and had a clear 
 recollection of having seen her father in petticoats ; 
 and they quickened each other's memory, and re- 
 called so many odd stories, that it seemed as if they 
 w^ould never tire, whilst Katharine listened, and 
 laughed, and every now and then thought of her 
 tract-basket, and at last in despair rose up with des- 
 perate resolution, and declared she must go. " No, 
 my dear, not yet ; we could not think of letting you 
 go. Priscilla," — and Miss Ronaldson nodded to 
 her sister, and looked at the corner cupboard. Miss 
 Priscilla quickly took the hint, and proceeded to 
 unlock the cupboard, and produce a bottle of 
 ginger wine, and some sweet cake. " Now, my 
 dear, just one glass; it won't hurt you ; it's home- 
 made — Priscilla's making. Prissy, my dear, are you 
 sure that is not gooseberry ? We make gooseberry 
 Avine, too, my dear Miss Ashton, but the ginger this 
 year happens to be the best. Our nephew Charlie 
 always likes ginger when he comes to see us 
 Have you seen Charlie lately, my dear?" Katha- 
 rine took a piece of cake, not liking to refuse, and, 
 M 4
 
 168 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 after a moment's thought, said she had not seen jVEr. 
 Ronaldson for more than three weeks, and she had 
 understood he was gone to London. " So he is, my 
 dear, but he is come back again. He went up to 
 London to see some person about the land-survey- 
 ing. The Duke of Lowther recommended him to 
 go. He has been a kind friend to him, has the 
 Duke of Lowther, and Charlie deserves it. We 
 can say that, can't we, Priscilla ? " — " Surely," 
 replied Miss Priscilla, who being the stronger- 
 minded of the two, was always required to put her 
 seal to her sister's assertions ; " there isn't a 
 better young man in Rilworth, Miss Ashton, than 
 our nephew Charlie ; so steady, and so fond of his 
 mother, and so given to his work. I say sometimes 
 that he is quite an example to the young men in 
 these days." — " I hope he will succeed, sincerely," 
 said Katharine, a little impatient of this new subject, 
 as she thought again of her tracts. " I know he is a 
 very good young man ; every one says so," she added, 
 fearing that she might have appeared cold. " Yes, 
 and every one has good cause to say so," continued 
 Miss Ronaldson ; "such a dutiful son as he has been 
 ever since his father's death, and before it indeed. 
 He never gave his parents a moment's uneasiness 
 at any time. But, my dear Miss Ashton, must you 
 really go ? this is such a very short visit." — " I 
 must come another day, and pay you a visit when I 
 have no business on my hands," said Katharine. 
 " Do, pray ; we shall be most happy at any time. " — 
 " And we are in your district, remember," said Miss 
 Priscilla. — " Yes, in your district," echoed Miss 
 Ronaldson, " so you must not forget us." — " I am 
 not likely to forget the door," observed Katharine, 
 with a laugh ; " it was a most awkward blunder." — 
 "A most fortunate one, my dear, you mean ; we have 
 not had such a pleasant little talk, I can't tell the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 169 
 
 time when; have we, Priscilla?" — "No, indeed; a 
 most pleasant talk," replied Miss Priscilla ; " we 
 only hope it will be repeated." — " And if your 
 mother would be kind enough to look in upon us 
 some day, we should bo delighted," continued Miss 
 Ronaldson. " Prissy and I don't go out much, 
 especially in cold weather. Prissy is troubled with 
 rheumatism, and I get such had colds on my chest ; 
 don't I, Priscilla ? "— " Surely," replied Miss Pris- 
 cilla; "but can't Deborah carry your basket for 
 you Avherever you are going, my dear IVIiss 
 Ashton ?" — " Oh ! no, thank you," replied Katharine, 
 " there is nothing heavy in it." — " Ah ! so you say," 
 observed Miss Ronaldson ; " but you district ladies 
 are wonderful people for taking things about. The 
 people in the lane talk of nothing but of what Miss 
 Sinclair did for them." — " Mrs. Forbes, you mean, 
 sister," said Miss Priscilla, with a reproving nod. 
 " Thank you. Prissy ; yes, you are right. Mrs. 
 Forbes, as you say, not Miss Sinclair ; but she did 
 go about a great deal, didn't she ? " — " Yes," replied 
 Katharine; "a great deal more, I am afraid, than 
 I shall." — " Ah ! so you say, my dear ; but we shall 
 hear you talked of just the same ; shan't we. Prissy ? 
 I am glad, though, the basket is not heavy." There 
 might have been a little curiosity in this last obser- 
 vation. Miss Ronaldson certainly fixed her eyes on 
 the covered basket, as if she would fain have had a 
 glimpse into the interior, but Katharine's instinct 
 told her that the little brown books would have re- 
 quired too long an explanation; and therefore, taking 
 advantage of tlie pause, she retreated, after many 
 hearty good-byes, mingled with assurances from 
 Miss Ronaldson, signed and sealed by Miss Priscilla, 
 that they wished her all success, and had no doubt 
 she would soon be as much talked about as Mrs. 
 Forbes.
 
 170 KATHAKINE ASHTOX. 
 
 District visiting, doubtless, would occupy a very- 
 large portion of time, if all visits were like that 
 paid to the Miss Ronaldsons. Katharine had been 
 with them half an hour, and she had only an hour more 
 to bestow on all the people in Long-lane. But the 
 interview had amused and pleased her, and it would 
 be something to make her father laugh when she 
 went home ; and upon the whole it had rather raised 
 her spirits, and given her a stimulus for her ^vork. 
 It was not quite possible to make any more such 
 blunders, for there was no other doubtful door in 
 the lane, and boldly, therefore, she went on. 
 
 She knocked at the next door ; a clean-looking, 
 fierce-eyed woman, fresh from the washing-tub, 
 with her sleeves tucked up to the elbow, came down 
 a wet stone passage leading into a back court, and 
 confronted her. Katharine held out the tract, and 
 said, "I think you are Mrs. Mears ? " — "Yes, my 
 name is Mears." — " I am come to change the tract. 
 I have taken Miss Sinclair's — Mrs. Forbes' — district 
 for the present. She hopes to see you again herself 
 soon." — "Oh! — Gary, what have you done with the 
 tract ? here's a lady come for it. Isn't it upon 
 the top shelf?" There was a scuffle in some room 
 behind the passage, and then an untidy-looking girl 
 of about twelve years of age rushed down the pass- 
 age, thrust the tract into her mother's hand, stared 
 at Katharine, and having satisfied her curiosity, 
 rushed back again. Katharine's business was ended ; 
 she could not think of another word to say. Some 
 vague ideas of a speech about wet passages and 
 draughts crossed her mind, but she could not frame 
 any rational sentence. " Good afternoon, I will 
 call again another day," she said. " Good afternoon, 
 Miss," was the answer, in a quick voice, and the 
 instant Katharine was out of the house the door 
 was closed behind her.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 171 
 
 Two steps brought her to another door very 
 much like the first ; the entrance to the house too 
 was the same — the long passage and the back court : 
 but here she was received by a sickly woman, with 
 a baby in her arms ; and as the tract was not to be 
 found, she was asked to walk in, and was shown 
 into a good-sized room, utterly without furniture 
 except two or three broken chairs and a round table ; 
 and near the window worked a shoemaker, with a 
 face as sickly as his wife's, and bis unshaven black 
 beard making him look yet more ghastly ; and on 
 the floor played two little dirty half-clothed children, 
 and on a low stool near the almost empty grate, sat 
 a boy who had injured his leg and could not walk. 
 Very wretched it was, but it gave Katharine an 
 occasion for asking questions and showing sympathy; 
 and the " Thank you. Miss," when she promised to 
 bring the boy a picture-book next time, was en- 
 couraging. Not that she could feel she was doing 
 any good ; it was a very blind work ; but then she 
 was only a beginner, perhaps it would be better by- 
 and-by. 
 
 She had only time to go down one side of the 
 lane, but that seemed enough work both for mind 
 and body for one day. It gave her so much to 
 think of, and there was such an oppressive sense of 
 helplessness upon her. One scene of poverty and 
 distress followed upon another, and how could it be 
 possible to relieve all ? Especially, what was the 
 good of her trying to do anything without money, 
 or talent, or even time ? And if there was not 
 poverty, there was generally an indifference of 
 manner which repelled her, and made her feel that 
 the people wanted to be talked to and lectured into 
 good manners. Jane had told her that Long-lane 
 and Briton's-court were the worst parts of her dis- 
 trict, and that she would find some very nice people
 
 172 KATHARINE ASHTON". 
 
 in Woodgate-street, but that did not help her very 
 much at the moment. She went home feeling that 
 she had not done half she intended, that she had 
 undertaken a work quite beyond her powers, and 
 that if Mr. Reeves expected her to be of any use 
 to him in the parish he would find himself utterly 
 mistaken. One thing, however, struck her as she 
 went into the parlour in her own home : how com- 
 fortable it looked ! how bright the fire was ! how 
 nice it was to sit down to work again ! And that 
 evening the hour at tea was particularly pleasant ; 
 Mr. Ashton was so amused with the story of her 
 stumbling upon the Miss Ronaldsons, and ISIi's. 
 Ashton promised to go and call upon them, and 
 asked Katharine some questions about the other 
 people she had seen, and agreed that Susan should 
 put by the scraps for the shoemakers family. Ka- 
 tharine was very light-hearted when she went to 
 bed, but it could not have been on account of her 
 district, because that, she had made up her mind, 
 was to be a perpetual burden. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIT. 
 
 KATiiAmNE had time the next day to hurry down 
 to the shoemaker's cottage with an old picture-book, 
 and return just in time to be ready for the drive to 
 Moorlands. Mr. Fowler's double-seated chaise was 
 at the door, and John and Selina were seated in it. 
 Selina was in the front seat, which seemed a little 
 thoughtless in both of them, for the back seat was 
 cramped, and would be very uncomfortable for 
 Mrs. Ashton ; but then John and Selina were in 
 love, and a certain amount of selfishness is always
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 173 
 
 allowed to persons under such circumstances. Selina 
 was so very gay in her dress that Katharine was 
 not sorry to be spared the necessity of sitting side 
 by side with her, in contrast ; and Mrs. Ashton, in 
 lier extreme good-nature, did not care at all about 
 the back seat, and was only glad, as she said, that 
 the young people should have it all their own way. 
 She looked very proud and smiling, and bowed to 
 all her acquaintance as they drove down the street, 
 and observed to Katharine that, after all, she must 
 own there was some good in the marriage, for they 
 did not get a drive every day. Katharine was only 
 too willing to discover any advantages she could, and 
 quite agreed that it was a delightful afternoon, and 
 much pleasanter to be driving over to Moorlands 
 than going in and out of the cottages in Long-lane. 
 
 Moorlands was on the Maplestead road^ a little 
 to the right, about a quarter of a mile beyond the 
 upper lodge gate. Katharine looked up the long 
 beech avenue, and thought of the day when she, 
 and Selina, and Julia Madden, had met Colonel 
 Forbes and Jane at the entrance. How rapidly 
 events had crowded upon each other since then ! 
 how fixed Jane's fate was ! and John and Selina's 
 almost equally so ! and yet circumstances had glided 
 on very smoothly, one bringing another in a mea- 
 sure unperceived. So it might be, so it must be 
 with herself, and with every one — all were travel- 
 ling on to something important as regarded this 
 life, even without the thought of another. She 
 wondered what it would be in her own case. 
 
 " You have been to Moorlands, haven't you, 
 Kitty?" said John, turning round, and interrupting 
 her reverie. " No, never; not close, that is: I have 
 seen it passing the lane." — "Well, there it is, 
 through the trees ; you can just catch the chimneys. 
 The Colonel and we shall be near neighbours,
 
 174 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 eh, Selly ?" — "Yes, it will be quite pleasant," said 
 Selina. "Jane Forbes and I " — Katharine could not 
 possibly resist touching her arm : " Now, really, 
 Selina, you must not say that. Nobody calls mar- 
 ried women by their Christian names." — " I beg 
 your pardon, Katharine, I know a great many 
 people who do." — " Then they must be relations, or 
 persons who have known them intimately before," 
 replied Katharine ; *' Colonel Forbes won't like it 
 — indeed he won't. John, you mustn't let her do 
 it." — " I am not going to call her Jane to her face," 
 observed Selina; " but if I speak of her behind her 
 'back I shall call her what I choose, and so I must beg, 
 Katharine, that you won't interfere." — " What is the 
 matter, my dear?" asked Mrs. Ashton, innocently, 
 as after straining her eyes to discover the chimneys 
 of Moorlands, she sank back in the seat, and awoke 
 to the consciousness that something was amiss. 
 "Nothing, dear mother, nothing ; only Selina and 
 I differed a little. I am afraid you are not comfort- 
 able," she added, trying to distract her mother's 
 attention and her own. " Oh, yes, my dear, thank 
 you, quite — there's plenty of room. John, don't you 
 upset us round the corner." There was no fear of 
 that. John was a most expert charioteer, and took 
 them not only safe round the corner, but along a 
 very rough, bad lane, full of stones and ruts, which 
 made ]\Irs. Ashton keep her eyes fixed upon the 
 ground in order to give warning of all dangers be- 
 forehand, and caused one or two faint shrieks from 
 Selina, and consequent soothing words and fond 
 attentions from John. Katharine was never timid 
 in a carriage, and she had perfect faith in her bro- 
 ther's power of driving, so she had full leisure to 
 occupy herself with looking at Maplestead, of which 
 they had a very good view as they drove along the 
 side of the park. It was a red brick house, with
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTOK. 176 
 
 stone facings, low and long : the wings were mo- 
 dern, and had large sash windows ; the centre was 
 old, and there the windows were smaller and the 
 mullions very heavy. There was a good deal of 
 ornament about it, but of what kind Katharine 
 could not quite see, only she remembered having 
 been told that the Clare family, of whom Colonel 
 Forbes had bought it, had carved the figure of a 
 lion, their. family crest, wherever room could pos- 
 sibly be found for it. The sun was shining plea- 
 santly on the smooth lawn, and though the season 
 was late the flower beds were gay with colour, and 
 Maplestead, with its noble park and wide-spreading 
 trees, looked a very bright home on that autumn 
 afternoon. But Katharine could not fancy Jane 
 Sinclair its mistress ; it was too large for her, too 
 stately, too much shut out from the rest of the 
 neighbourhood ; and to live there year after year with 
 Colonel Forbes ! — Katharine internally shuddered 
 at the thought. " Very foolish," as she said to her- 
 self afterwards ; " no doubt if she had been brought 
 up like Miss Sinclair, she would feel like her. It 
 was only because she was not accustomed to gran- 
 deur and grand people, that she did not fancy them." 
 Yet there was certainly a relief in driving up to 
 Moorlands in spite of its associations. It was a 
 substantial looking place; the house old but 
 comfortable, and just beginning to be overrun 
 with creepers : in front was a small lawn, at one 
 side a kitchen-garden, at the back, and at the other 
 side, a farm-yard. Affluence, and what people call 
 respectability, were stamped upon it, and Mrs. 
 Asliton was much pleased, and thought it only too 
 much of a place for a beginning, and Selina really 
 did hope that something could be made of it. As 
 they were all satisfied, Katharine could not help 
 being so; in fact, just at that moment she did not
 
 176 KATHARINE ASHTON". 
 
 feel that she had much cause to be the reverse. 
 Now that the marriage was really settled, she was 
 beginning to take it, according to her custom, in its 
 best point of view, and Moorlands certainly was a 
 most favourable spot from which to regard it. It 
 would be a very pleasant change for her father, who 
 was so fond of the country ; and when her mother 
 was troubled with head-ache, as she was sometimes, 
 it might really be of service to her health to have 
 a little fresh pure air ; and the house must be quite 
 large enough to hold them all, if they wished to be 
 there together. What she feared was, like her 
 mother, that it might be rather too much of a place 
 for a beginning. 
 
 John helped them out of the chaise, and walked 
 into the house with the air of a master. ^' A very 
 good parlour, you see, mother, and a capital kitchen 
 and offices, and as many bed-rooms as we shall 
 want. We might build on more behind, the Colonel 
 says, if necessary." — " Build ! my dear," repeated 
 Mrs. Ashton, who had a virtuous horror of bricks 
 and mortar. — " If necessary, mother ; and it might 
 be. Selina doesn't think she shall be able to do 
 without a drawing-room, and if so, that will take the 
 best room up stairs." — " Of course I must have a 
 drawing-room," said Selina ; " how am I to receive 
 my friends else ? and what is mamma to do when she 
 comes to stay with me ?" A conclusive argument ! 
 Mrs. Ashton was silent, because she did not know 
 what to say ; Katharine, because she did not think 
 it desirable to interfere. So they, went upstairs to 
 see the rooms, and the best, the onlyreaUy good 
 room, was immediately marked by Selina for the 
 drawing-room, and she made John take out his 
 pocket-book and make a memorandum of the furni- 
 ture which would be wanted, including, of course, 
 a round table, a chiffonier, a book-case, and a sofa.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 177 
 
 " Her own piano," she said, " would be brought from 
 home, and would fill up the space that was left very 
 well." Katharine was anxious herself to go over the 
 offices, the kitchen, scullery, pantry, dairy, &c. 
 She felt these to be much more important than the 
 drawing-room ; but Selina kept John so long up- 
 stairs settling where everything was to be placed, 
 that she had not patience to wait for them, and she 
 and her mother went down stairs together. John 
 had called the offices good, but they did not strike 
 Katharine as being so. They were small, and some 
 of the out-houses were a good deal out of repair. 
 Katharine made notes herself of what she remarked, 
 meaning to show them to John or her father when 
 she was alone with them. It seemed to her that 
 the bargain would not be as great as she had at first 
 imagined. She believed that John was to pay a 
 diminished rent on condition of undertaking the 
 repairs. This might have been all very well if the 
 repairs had been within moderate compass ; but it 
 certainly seemed to her that there were dangerous 
 temptations to make unnecessary improvements, 
 from the fact of so much requiring to be done. 
 She had a little misgiving too about her father 
 — he was so very fond of work of the kind ; and 
 Selina would be sure to urge John even beyond 
 his own inclinations in the way of extravagance. 
 The idea was so strong in her mind, that when at last 
 John and Selina came down stairs, she ventured to 
 point out to them the state of the premises and sug- 
 gest whether it might not be as well to reconsider 
 the agreement with Colonel Forbes, since it was not 
 quite concluded, and be contented to pay a larger 
 rent if Colonel Forbes would put the place in order. 
 John seemed inclined to listen to the idea; but he 
 had no sooner said that it was something at least to 
 be thought of, when Selina interposed, " What ! leave 
 
 YOL. I. N
 
 178 KATHARINE ASHTOI?'. 
 
 the alterations to Colonel Forbes ; let him do just as 
 he might wish I — it was mere folly and absurdity. 
 How was he to tell what would be wanted ? And 
 he would be sure to do it in a shabby, skimping way. 
 And then the increased rent would be such a bur- 
 den, so much more than they could afford ! She 
 was sure if such a thing were proposed, the place 
 must be given up ; in fact, it would be quite im- 
 possible to undertake it ; they could not attempt 
 it ; it would be ruin : " and tears rushed to her eyes, 
 and even fell down her cheeks, very much to Katha- 
 rine's discomfiture, and to John's distress. Again 
 Katharine blamed herself for making wise sugges- 
 tions at unwise times, and to unwise people. The 
 same thing said to her father might have been 
 really useful. She had a good deal to learn in that 
 way, for, with her natural impetuosity of dispo- 
 sition, it was very difficult to be silent when an idea 
 was pressing upon her mind. 
 
 Selina recovered herself after a little sympathy 
 from Mrs. Ashton, who thought it hard she should 
 be thwarted in a matter which seemed to her of 
 slight consequence, and a good deal of soothing from 
 John, accompanied by a promise that she should 
 have it all her own way ; and they went out into 
 the garden. It was, strictly speaking, a kitchen- 
 garden, old fashioned and formal, with an abundant 
 supply of cabbages, carrots, lettuces, and other 
 vegetables, and a moderate space left for flowers 
 in the front borders. Mrs. Ashton was charmed 
 with it; Katharine thought it the best thing 
 she had yet seen at Moorlands ; and Selina acknow- 
 ledged it would be all very well if they could 
 plant it out, but as it was it was merely a desight ; 
 and she called John away from the inspection 
 of the vegetables to plan some flower-beds for 
 the front lawn. " Selina thinks Moorlands is 
 what people call a villa," said Katharine to her
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 179 
 
 mother ; " I always thought it a farm-house." 
 — " Ah ! that's just at first, my dear, she will know 
 better by-and-by. But it won't do to cross her 
 just at the beginning ; and, besides, it will vex 
 John." That was the important point, kept, as 
 people say the real business of a lady's letter is, 
 for the postscript. Katharine was quite in the mi- 
 nority, and it was a considerable trial to her, feel- 
 ing herself, as she did, in the right. But it was a 
 much greater trial to be put aside in her brother's 
 affections. With all his faults, he had always 
 hitherto been very fond of her, and he was so still, 
 she was sure ; but he had no thought for her ; he 
 did not care whether she gave her opinion or not ; 
 he did not notice if she was present or absent. He 
 made Selina sit down, because he thought she would 
 be tired ; but it did not seem to enter his head that 
 Katharine might be tired, too. Katharine was not 
 of a jealous disposition ; but it was not in human 
 nature to be so suddenly thrust out of her natural 
 place, and not to feel it. She walked about with 
 her mother, and left John and Selina to themselves, 
 feeling very unhappy. She thought she could have 
 borne it if Selina had been less silly ; but she was 
 mistaken. If Selina had been perfect it would 
 have been quite impossible to know that she was 
 second where she had once been first, and not to 
 suffer. And then it seemed so wrong, so unkind, 
 unsympathising, selfish, — and her mother did not 
 seem to care at all ! she was only glad that John 
 should be happy ! Why should not a sister's feel- 
 ings be the same as a mother's ? Katharine began 
 to lecture herself very severely, as she walked up 
 and down the centre walk in the kitchen-garden, 
 waiting till John and Selina were ready to go ovei- 
 the farm-buildings. Mrs. Ashton busied herself in 
 gathering a few autumn flowers to take buck with 
 
 N 2
 
 180 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 them, and Katharine began to do the same ; but she 
 could not go on very long, her thoughts interfered 
 with her work. First came the self-scolding ; then 
 a kind of apology and explanation; then a wonder 
 whether her feelings w^ere unusual ; then a little 
 something like envy of John and Selina — not envy 
 of them, but of their happiness, of that pleasant feel- 
 ing of being all in all to each other. She would not 
 change with Selina, or with Miss Sinclair, or with any 
 married person she had ever known ; she had never 
 seen the person she would like to marry; she scarcely 
 knew herself what she would wish him to be like, 
 she had thought so little about it ; but if it were pos- 
 sible to meet with any one quite, — in every respect, 
 — faultless in fact, then it seemed as if it might be 
 a happy life, very happy. She felt that she could 
 make a good wife. She could love, yes, most deeply 
 — there was a rush of feeling at the vision she had 
 conjured up, which told her that the well-spring of 
 her affections had never yet been reached ; and she 
 could honour, she must honour, — without it there 
 could be no love ; and she could obey, — in spite of 
 her theory, that it might be w^ell for a w^oman not 
 to spoil her husband, she could yield her own will 
 cheerfully and trustingly ; only — she smiled to her- 
 self as she woke up suddenly from her reverie, and 
 felt herself thrown back upon the stern fact, that 
 the being of whom she had been dreaming was not 
 to her knowledge in existence, or likely to be so. 
 
 " Mother, dear," — and she went up to Mrs. 
 Ashton, and took from her the flowers she had been 
 collecting, — "had we not better put these into the 
 house, and then go and hurry John and Selina? 
 We shall be late home else." JNIrs. Ashton looked 
 at her watch : — " So we shall, I declare ; it's past 
 four ; — just go and call them, my dear." — " Won't 
 you come too, mother ? " Katharine was beginning 
 to fear that she might gain the character of a mar-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 181 
 
 plot if she came in their waj often. Mrs. Ashton 
 walked towards the front of the house. — "I wonder 
 what they are at. — Just see how John is striding; 
 up and down." — " Measuring, I suppose," said 
 Katharine ; " but it can't be a flower-bed." — No, it 
 was not a flower-bed, but a greenhouse ; — a gl'een- 
 house which might be built on close to the parlour, 
 and might be heated by a flue from the parlour 
 chimney, and might be put up for twenty pounds, 
 and in fact would make the place quite another 
 thing, — quite a genteel country-house, as Selina 
 observed. " A greenhouse, and a farm-yard, Selly, 
 how absurd ! " and Katharine laughed heartily one 
 moment, and grew quite serious the next. Mistake 
 the third ! Poor Katharine ! how often she w^as to 
 repent that day of her hasty words. Neither John 
 nor Selina deiigned to reply to her, but went on 
 planning and talking, as if the idea was the most 
 feasible possible, till Mrs. Ashton insisted upon their 
 going round the farm-yard, if they meant to go at all, 
 since she was determined not to keep her husband 
 waiting for his tea. Selina was too tired then to 
 move a step further, and proposed to wait in the 
 parlour whilst the rest walked round. John offered 
 his arm to his mother, and told Katharine not to 
 keep behind. He seemed now to like having them 
 with him ; perhaps he felt that the farm-yard and 
 the farm-buildings were more to their taste than 
 Selina's. He talked a great deal of his schemes, and 
 of what he hoped Colonel Forbes would do for him 
 in the course of a year or two, and how many 
 labourers would be required, and how he should pay 
 them ; and as Katharine listened with interest, he 
 grew quite affectionate in his manner, and promised 
 her that she should come and be his bailiff when 
 she was tired of the shop ; and Katharine, in tlie 
 simple confidence of her own affections, thought 
 
 N 3
 
 182 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 herself more wicked than ever, because she had 
 been jealous. She did not perceive that "I," not 
 " Thou," was still, as it had always been, the first 
 person of importance in John's mind. 
 
 The horse had been put up in the farm-stable. 
 John went to find the man who had taken it from, 
 him ; but he had gone away, and only a stupid carter's 
 boy was left about the place. John gave his orders 
 that the horse should be put in, and the chaise 
 brought round to the front door, and then returned 
 to Selina, from whom he had already, in his own 
 opinion, been an unconscionably long time absent. 
 She was engaged in discussing w^ith Mrs. Ashton 
 and Katharine what colour would be best for the 
 furniture of the parlour and drawang-room ; and 
 John joined willingly in the conversation, and did 
 not notice, as Katharine did, that the business of 
 putting the horse into the carriage took double the 
 time that was necessary. The chaise came to the 
 door at last, and they all seated tliemselves ; and 
 John took the whip in his hand, and with a munifi- 
 cent air tossed sixpence to the boy and drove off. 
 "The chaise shakes a great deal, Kitty," said Mrs. 
 Ashton, as they turned into the lane. "I never 
 knew anything go so oddly." — " Only the ruts, 
 mother," replied Katharine ; '* John will do more 
 wisely in spending his money in mending the road 
 than in building a greenhouse." — " Iley ? yes, what 
 did you say?" asked Mrs, Ashton, looking anxiously 
 over the side of the carriage. " It does go very 
 oddly; John, what is the matter with the horse?'* 
 — " Nothing, mother, only it is a desperate road. I 
 declare the Colonel is a fortunate man in having his 
 farm taken with such a break-nock drive to it. 
 Now, take care of yourselves, hold fast," and down 
 went one wheel into a deep rut ; and heavily, and 
 with a very strange movement, the horse dragged 
 the chaise on a few yards, while John looked over
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 183 
 
 into the road as his mother had done; and then bent 
 forward to glance at the harness ; and as the figure 
 of a man crossed the high road at the further end 
 of the lane, called out, "Holloa! come here, will 
 you, my good fellow." — " It's Charles Ronaldson," 
 said Katharine, laughing ; " he won't know you, if 
 you call him good fellow." — " He is a good fellow, 
 I hope," said John ; " he will be a good fellow to us 
 if he helps out of this mess. — Here, Selly, take 
 the reins;" and he stopped the horse and jumped 
 out to overtake Charles, who had not heard his call. 
 " What's the matter, John ? John, what's the mat- 
 ter ? Oh ! he's going on," screamed Selina. " Of 
 course he is," said Katharine quietly ; " you have 
 dropped the reins." Selina put up her hands to 
 her eyes, and before Katharine could speak again 
 there was a great jerk, and down came both the 
 horse and the chaise, and Mrs. Ash ton, Selina, and 
 Katharine were thrown out upon the bank at the 
 side of the road. Selina lay upon the jiround crying 
 out in piteous accents that she was killed, and Mrs. 
 Ashton seemed at first doubtful of the same fact ; 
 but they were neither of them in as bad a condi- 
 tion as Katharine, who had fallen under them, and 
 bruised her arm against a stone. Even she, how- 
 ever, was not materially hurt, and when Charles 
 Ronaldson and John came up to them she was quite 
 ready to laugh at her own share in the misfortune, 
 and help to quiet the nerves of Mrs. Ashton and 
 Selina. The chaise was the chief object of atten- 
 tion, even to John ; it was much scratched, and 
 one of the wheels was broken. This was a most 
 uncomfortable story to carry back to his future 
 father-in-law, and poor John looked not a little dis- 
 turbed in his mind. Selina, however, had no sliare 
 in the blame ; it was all laid to the charge of the 
 stupid carter's boy, who had pretended, John said, to 
 
 N 4
 
 184 KATHAEINE ASHTOX 
 
 harness the horse when he knew no more about it 
 than he did of catching a rhinoceros. The horse 
 was raised with the assistance of Charles Ronald- 
 son, and then it was agreed that the chaise should 
 be taken to the farm and left there till it was settled 
 what should be done with it, whilst the horse was 
 to be led into Eilworth ; and so, after a little delay 
 in dragging back the chaise to Moorlands, the pro- 
 cession set off, John leading the horse, and Selina 
 walking by his side, whilst Charles joined Mrs. 
 Ashton and Katharine. 
 
 It was not a very long w^alk, and but for the 
 misadventure it would have been a very pleasant 
 one. Charles was not as shy now as he had been 
 when last they met ; the downfall of the chaise 
 had broken the ice ; and they talked about Moor- 
 lands, and Maplestead, and Colonel Forbes, and 
 Jane, and the district, and the Miss Ronaldsons, 
 so that there was no lack of subjects for discourse. 
 Katharine still, however, had the larger share in 
 the conversation ; not because she wished it, but 
 because she could not help it. When Charles did 
 say anything, it seemed always with a view to 
 bringing out her opinions and feelings rather than 
 expressing his own. He was chiefly communicative 
 upon the subject of his aunts, of whom he seemed 
 particularly fond, quite strangely so, as Mrs. Ashton 
 afterwards remarked, for a young man. " They were 
 such good people," he said, " so thoroughly religious 
 and kind-hearted, and had done so much for him ; 
 he should never have been in the position he then 
 was if it had not been for them." — " I thought the 
 Duke of Lowther had been your great friend, Mr. 
 Ronaldson," said Katharine. — " My largest friend ; 
 1 don't know that I can say my greatest, except in 
 a worldly sense. I don't mean that he has not 
 helped me far beyond what I could possibly have
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 185 
 
 expected ; but there are some favours which cart 
 only be conferred by relations — which we can only 
 accept from relations. Don't you understand tliat, 
 Miss Ashton ? " — " Yes," said Katharine, " that is, 
 I think I do ; but I don't know much about receiv- 
 ing favours except from my father and mother." 
 — " It is something to learn in life," said Charles 
 thoughtfully, " and it takes a long time to learn it ; 
 but it was never difficult with my aunts, even when 
 at one time, before my father's affairs were settled, 
 they gave my mother and me a home, and shared 
 their small income with us. The obligation was 
 never painful. Favours bestowed from affection, 
 Miss Ashton, are very different from favours be- 
 stowed from duty." — " That must have been twelve 
 years ago that you were living with them, Charlie," 
 said Mrs. Ashton ; " you must not mind my calling 
 you ' Charlie,' it comes so natural." — " I should be 
 very sorry if it did not," he replied. " As one grows 
 older, one's Christian-name becomes much more 
 valuable, because one only hears it from old friends." 
 — "I don't like being called by my Christian- 
 name unless people know me very well indeed," said 
 Katharine ; " and I never can bear it's being done 
 unless I am asked first." — "I can't fancy any person's 
 calling you by your Christian-name without asking," 
 
 said Charles, "unless" He paused. — ''Unless 
 
 what ?" asked Katharine. — " Unless it were to come 
 out without their meaning it — knowing it, that is ; 
 should you be very angry then ?" His voice had 
 sunk into that deep under tone which Katharine 
 had once before remarked. It frightened her a 
 little ; it made her think she did not understand 
 him, and yet he seemed very simple and plain in all 
 he said. " I should be angry with anything I 
 thought a liberty," she said. " I learnt that from 
 my mother. Don't you remember, mother, telling
 
 186 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 me one day that I was not to let George Andrews 
 go on calling me Katharine to my face ? It was 
 very awkward stopping him, but I did manage it. I 
 think it was by saying something which came round 
 to him. — Oh ! I remember, I said to Selina Fowler 
 that it was not like a gentleman ; and he took the 
 hint directly, for he can't bear not being considered 
 a gentleman." — " He is a very good-natured young 
 man," said Mrs. Ashton ; " I don't know any one who 
 take's a hint better." — "Then he must be the 
 essence of good-nature," exclaimed Katharine ; " I 
 can bear anything said plainly, but I can't endure 
 hints." — "Neither can I," said Charles quietly. 
 " Miss Ashton, if I ever have anything to say to 
 you, will you promise to forgive me if I say it very 
 openly." Katharine was thrown back again into 
 awe, his manner was so very strange ; but she rallied 
 herself to reply, "Oh, yes, say anything in the 
 world you choose ; I can bear a good deal, can't I, 
 mother, dear ? when," she added, laughing, " it is put 
 in the way I like." — " Only not what you would 
 call a liberty," said Charles. — "I don't think I 
 should be likely to call anything you would say a 
 liberty," replied Katharine simply. He turned very 
 pale. Katharine scarcely heard the words, " Thank 
 you." — " Kate is very good in the way of bearing 
 things," observed Mrs. Ashton. " There are not 
 many young girls in Rilworth that would submit 
 to be kept in order like her, but that was the good 
 early teaching of Miss Richardson. I must say 
 that for her, she made all her girls obedient if 
 she did nothing else." — "But she did a great deal 
 else," observed Katharine; "half the good — that 
 is, if I have any good — I mean half the notions 
 I have of what I should wish to be — came from 
 ]\[iss Richardson. She was so honest-hearted, 
 mother, was not she? and she did all she did
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 187 
 
 SO thoroughlj. I remember when as a child I 
 used to go to church and hear about a straight and 
 narrow way to Heaven, I always used to fancy that 
 I saw it a long distance before me, with a bright light 
 at the end, and that Miss Richardson was walking 
 along it ; and I used to long so that I could get into 
 it like her and never wander out again." Charles 
 Ronaldson was silent. They had reached the turn- 
 pike-gate at Rilworth, and there his road home 
 separated from Katharine's. " Won't you come and 
 drink tea with us, Charlie?" asked Mrs. Ashton. 
 " Mr. Ashton would be most glad to see you." — 
 " Thank you, thank you ; — no, thank you ; not to- 
 night, I am engaged." He shook hands and hurried 
 away, and then turned back to say, " You will go 
 and see my aunts sometimes, I hope, Miss Ashton ; " 
 but he did not wait for a reply. 
 
 " Such a very strange person !" said Katharine ; 
 *'but, mother, I like him better, I think, than any one 
 else in Rilworth ; only I never know what he 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Katharine saw a good deal of Charles Ronaldson 
 after that day. She met him often at his aunts,' 
 and he and John grew rather intimate, and fre- 
 quently went over to Moorlands together to talk 
 about farm matters, with which Charles was much 
 better acquainted than John ; and this was an excuse 
 for his coming back to drink tea, and have a little 
 more conversation with Mr. Ashton. Katharine 
 liked his being there, though she did not feel, as the 
 phrase is, "that she got on with him." She never 
 could quite prevent a certain feeling of awe ; and 
 this feeling increased as she knew more of him.
 
 188 KATHAKINE ASHTOIf. 
 
 When his shyness was overcome, and he brought 
 out his opinions boldly, he struck her more and 
 more as being something unlike other people, — in 
 a degree superior to them. He had a way of 
 putting things upon high grounds, suggesting high 
 motives, which sometimes actually surprised her, — 
 it was so unlike what she was accustomed to hear. 
 He did not agree with her father and John in a 
 great many things, and she sometimes wondered 
 that he could choose to be as much with them as he 
 was. At last it crossed her mind that perhaps he 
 liked to be with her ; that was after he had stayed 
 very late one evening, when Selina Fowler was 
 drinking tea with them also, and Selina had 
 laughed at her, and put the notion into her head ; 
 and though Katharine was angry at the time, she 
 could not in a moment put aside the thought. But 
 she did her best, and lectured herself most heartily 
 and sincerely, and remembered how silly she should 
 think such fancies in any one else. As for atten- 
 tions, Charles Ronaldson never scarcely showed 
 her any ; there was not really any ground for the 
 idea beyond Selina's folly ; and Katharine being 
 determined to treat the disease rationally, as she 
 thought, would not allow herself to be at all shy, or 
 awkward, or in any way self-conscious, which had 
 been her first impulse ; but resolved to go and see 
 the Miss Ronaldsons that very day, as she had 
 promised, before Selina had teazed her, and not 
 to think whether or not she should meet Charles 
 there ; and if he came in in the evening, she deter- 
 mined to talk to him just the same as usual. 
 Only one thing she resolved to be careful about, 
 she would never put herself in the power of Selina's 
 gossip, nor that of any other person. 
 
 She had once or tw^ice lately met Charles at his 
 aunts', and he had walked home with her. This
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 189 
 
 should not be again, — not for his sake, nor for hers ; 
 the action she felt sure was as indifferent to him as 
 it was to her, but she would not have her own. name 
 bandied about from one to the other, and she could 
 not in justice allow his to be so either. Happily he 
 was going to leave Kilworth in another month, to 
 enter upon his regular business, and then nothing 
 more could by any possibility be said. 
 
 Her district business was now proceeding in 
 regular train, and so far it was less burdensome. 
 She knew generally what she had to do, and could 
 arrange how it was to be done ; but it was oppres- 
 sive to her in many ways, which she had not cal- 
 culated upon. It opened her eyes to so much evil, so 
 much irremediable suffering ; and, notwithstanding 
 Mr. Reeves' assurance that the great responsibility 
 rested upon him, and not upon her, she could not 
 give herself the relief which he intended to offer. 
 Certainly he was the clergyman, and answerable 
 for the spiritual welfare of his people — he was the 
 person bound to advise and direct ; and she might 
 and indeed would, be going out of her province in 
 attempting anything of the kind. But Mr. Reeves 
 could not be everywhere at all times ; work as hard 
 as he and his curate could, it was impossible, with 
 such a parish upon their hands, to enter minutely 
 into the affairs of every family ; and there were 
 cases of over-indulged children, and careless mo- 
 thers, and vain, flighty daughters continually 
 brought before Katharine's notice, which she did 
 not in the least know how to deal with. Poor 
 people told her their stories, and seemed to think, 
 that because she could give them district tickets, 
 therefore she could help them in their other needs ; 
 and now and tiien, if the matter was very trifling, 
 she ventured to give an opinion ; and at other 
 times it seemed advisable to go and talk to Mr.
 
 190 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 Reeves. But Mr. Reeves was often out, often ex- 
 cessively engaged with business which could not 
 possibly be put aside. Katharine made the expe- 
 riment two or three times ; but when she had said 
 what she had to say, the difficulty brought before 
 him seemed so trifling, that she was ashamed of 
 herself for having troubled him with it. He told 
 her one day that she must learn to give an inde- 
 pendent opinion in small matters ; and she knew 
 what he meant. He certainly had not time to 
 decide every question that might arise in every 
 household in Rilvvorth, and yet the point must be 
 settled, and the responsibility must rest upon the 
 person who helped to settle it ; and so Katharine 
 was thrown back upon herself and her own judg- 
 ment, and her conscience was troubled, and her 
 mind perplexed. Her mother was an assistance to 
 her in some ways. Mrs. Ashton had a good deal of 
 wordly sense naturally, and she had, moreover, the 
 experience of fifty years to guide her, and in cases 
 simply involving prudence and ordinary judg- 
 ment she could direct Katharine very usefully ; but 
 she did not understand any of the more refined 
 or abstruse difficulties which sometimes came in 
 Katharine's way ; and for these she most frequently 
 applied to the Miss Ronaldsons. They had worked 
 for years amongst the poor in a country parish, 
 where the clergyman had not been at all active. 
 They could understand, therefore, the feelings of 
 the poor; and this was Katharine's great need. 
 Very often she did not know what to say, or if she 
 knew, she could not tell how to say it. Little sug- 
 gestions even, as to the treatment of invalids, — 
 giving fresh air, — keeping them quiet, — were diffi- 
 culties to Katharine, because she did not know how 
 far she might venture to interfere ; and if it came 
 to the point of telling a mother that she ought to
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 191 
 
 send her boys to school, or keep her daughters at 
 home, she would worry herself for several days, 
 because she was not quite certain whether it was 
 her business to advise. If she might have con- 
 tented herself with giving out district tickets, and 
 chanojing tracts, her work would have been easy ; 
 but Katharine was beginning to open her eyes to 
 the fact, that we cannot, even if we would, escape 
 the necessity of influencing our fellow creatures, 
 either for good or for evil ; and life was in con- 
 sequence becoming more serious and oppressive. 
 It was a comfort though to feel that she was gaining 
 experience, and so it was to be hoped improving. 
 Notwithstanding her dread of interference, she 
 might have begun too boldly, even from her very 
 dread of being a moral coward, but for a hint from 
 Miss Ronaldson, who said one day, in her very kind 
 voice, when Katharine had been complaining of 
 some rudeness she had experienced : — " You see, 
 my dear, what the poor people want is friendliness, 
 and we cannot become friends all of a sudden ; ex- 
 cept, you know, when people have known about each 
 other very long, as Prissy and I knew you. After 
 a time, they will come to know you, and the look 
 of your face will be natural to them, and then they 
 will take better what you have to say ; but I don't 
 think English poor people ever fancy having folks 
 coming into their cottages, and giving them advice 
 suddenly. At least that was what Prissy and I 
 found when we lived in the country ; didn't we. 
 Prissy ?" Katharine acted upon this suggestion, 
 and tried to make herself, as Miss Ronaldson said, 
 " natural," before she took upon herself, even in a 
 slight degree, the oflice of an adviser. 
 
 Mr. Reeves also gave her very substantial com- 
 fort, though it was more for the general practice of 
 life, than for any particular occasion. He called
 
 192 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 one day witli his wife and found Katharine grave 
 and almost out of spirits; the cares of the dis- 
 trict were pressing upon her, so that she was almost 
 tempted to give up her work, and own it a failure. 
 " She was sure," she said, "that she did no good; 
 the people took advantage of her, and deceived 
 her. The little she could give in the way of money 
 would be given just the same, whether she bad the 
 district or not; and her mother would be very glad 
 to provide broth or pudding occasionally, as she had 
 been accustomed to do lately ; but she w^as sure it 
 required a more experienced person to undertake 
 such a duty, and therefore when Mrs. Forbes 
 came home she could not help thinking it would 
 be better to give up her share, and trust that 
 some one else would be found who knew better 
 what to do." Mr. Reeves listened very patiently 
 whilst Katharine said this, and then asked her 
 whether she was in earnest. " Quite," was Katha- 
 rine's reply; "that is," she added, with her usual 
 candour, " quite earnest in wishing it, though I 
 don't know that I should entirely like to do it." 
 Mr. Reeves smiled. " Do you know, Miss Ashton, 
 I have had the same thoughts in my mind lately 
 about my clerical duties ? " Katharine stared. 
 " Yes," he said, " I feel myself utterly incompetent ; 
 notwithstanding my long experience, I am constantly 
 failing, and making blunders. I really see very 
 little fruit from my labours, and therefore it is 
 natural to conclude that I am unfitted for my office, 
 and shall do better to resign it." — "But, — but," 
 Katharine hesitated, and was very much afraid of 
 being impertinent. " Pray say what is in your 
 mind," he continued — " I don't quite see, sir, how a 
 clergyman can give give up his office." — " Once a 
 clergyman always a clergyman, you mean ? " he 
 replied. " Precisely the difficulty which stops me."
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 193 
 
 Katharine looked relieved. " Then you are not 
 going to leave Rilworth, sir?" — "Not just yet, I 
 only mentioned ray feelings that you might under- 
 stand I could sympathise with yours." There was 
 a lurking smile upon his lips, which puzzled Katha- 
 rine extremely. " If I were a clergyman," she said, 
 " I should know that I could not give up my 
 duties." The smile vanished, and Mr. Reeves be- 
 came serious in an instant. " And though you are 
 not a clergyman, my dear Miss Ashton, are you 
 really more at liberty ? There is not indeed the 
 same solemn vow binding you down, but there is 
 an equally clear outward call, — the solemn ordering 
 of Providential circumstances, which have placed 
 you in your present position, led you to your work, 
 opened the way for it, put you in the way of begin- 
 ing it." — "Yes, if I were fitted for it," said Katha- 
 rine. — " Then it is in your power to change the 
 hearts of your fellow creatures ; you can yourself 
 make them all that they ought to be? " — " No, no," 
 exclaimed Katharine, " it is exactly that which 
 troubles me, — that I cannot do so." — "Neither can 
 I," said Mr. Reeves ; " I may preach, and talk, 
 and labour from morning till night, and from 
 night till morning, but I can do nothing. Yet you 
 tell me I should do wrong in giving up my Avork." 
 — "Ye.-," said Katharine, thoughtfully, " I see; one's 
 failings ought not to dishearten one so much," — 
 "No; and if we Avere thoroughly humble, thoroughly 
 imbued with a sense of our own helplessness, they 
 would not do so. it is the one great lesson of the 
 Bible, especially of the Old Testament, that means 
 are nothing. It is taught us continually in the 
 history of the Judges, and the Kings ; and in 
 the most striking way. The prayer of Asa is a 
 prayer for us in every undertaking." Katharine 
 did not at the moment recollect the prayer of Asa, 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 but she determined to look for it when Mr. Reeves 
 was gone. " You must go on with your work, cheer- 
 fully and hopefully, my dear Miss Ashton," continued 
 Mr. Reeves, in a lighter tone ; " not troubling your- 
 self with howmuch you do but inwhat wayyou do it ; 
 making up your mind to commit blunders, and to see 
 little or no fruit; remembering that, if you were to 
 give up your district at once, and never again to take 
 upon yourself such a burden, the responsibility would 
 not be one iota lessened, but rather a thousand- 
 fold increased. It is what I long to make the people 
 of Rilworth feel," he continued. " The excuse meets 
 me at every turn, with regard to district visiting, 
 and the schools, and the duties of sponsors, and 
 numberless other claims of the kind. Again and 
 again people say to me, ' I would, but I am afraid 
 of the responsibility — I am not competent;' as if we 
 were any of us competent ! Depend upon it, if wc 
 will take the burden, which God in His Providence 
 brings us, He will bear it for us; if we will not 
 take it, it will one day fall upon us and crush us." 
 — "But there are a good many district visitors," 
 said Katharine. " Not as many as are wanted," 
 replied Mr. Reeves ; " the districts are a great deal 
 too large, that is one reason why they are so burden- 
 some. And then we want men; and they are much 
 more difficult to find than women — they have more 
 regular, daily employment, and I am afraid very 
 often they have not quite the same spirit. Young 
 Ronaldson is the only volunteer w^e have had since 
 I have been here. I think I am correct, my dear," 
 he added, turning to his wife. " Yes, the others 
 belonged to the society before," replied ]\Irs. Reeves; 
 " but he has been an incalculable help ; unfortu- 
 natel}", he will be going soon." — " He is an example 
 of what I want to make others see," continued Mr. 
 Reeves, " that it is right to do w^hatever we can
 
 KATHAIilNE ASIITOX. 195 
 
 without nice calculations as to time and the power 
 of continuance." — " When Ronaldson offered him- 
 self to me as a visitor in Pebble-street — which I need 
 not say to you, Miss Ashton, is the worst street in 
 Rilworth — all his plans and prospects were uncer- 
 tain — he knew that he might be called away at any 
 moment ; but he heard that the street was left, that 
 in fact it was so bad no one would undertake it, 
 and he came to me and told me exactly how he was 
 circumstanced, and said he could not promise to 
 give up any amount of time, because he had other 
 duties to be considered ; but he offered to do what 
 he could." — " And that has been quite as much, if 
 not more, than any one else," said JMrs. Reeves. — 
 " Yes, and the advantage is, that he has paved the 
 way for others ; the street is a bad street, and will 
 remain bad, 1 fear; but some of the very worst evils 
 have been removed, and the next person who may 
 have it will have comparatively a light task. I 
 really know no one whose help I have valued more 
 than Charles Ronaldson's," he continued. " It was 
 just one of those cases in which a man might have 
 made such a fair excuse to himself for doing nothing; 
 actually not an inhabitant of the town, — here only 
 for a time, — for his mother only took lodgings in 
 Rilworth till his London plans were fixed — all hispro- 
 Sj)ects at a distance, and really feeling the necessity 
 of studying for his business. I am sure I never 
 should have blamed him for refusing to assist me; in 
 fact, it never entered my head that it would be right 
 to ask hira." It was very pleasant to Katharine to 
 hear this praise ; it made her feel that she was right 
 in liking Charles Ronaldson better than anyone else 
 in Rilworth; but it rather increased her awe of him. 
 She wondered also how it was she had never heard 
 of his having a district, till she recollected that 
 his name was not down in the last printed report, 
 o 2
 
 196 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 and that he himself was not likelv to mention the 
 circumstance. 
 
 " And now," said Mrs. Reeves, " havinor rjiven 
 you a lecture upon the subject of duties, I hope, 
 Miss Asliton, that Mr. Reeves is going to propose 
 himself the business which was partly our object in 
 calling upon you to-day. I really feel he ought to 
 do it." — Katharine's heart sank. Was she to be 
 made superintendent of the Sunday-school? Or 
 what other overpowering dignity was to be thrust 
 upon her ? — " Can you cover books," said Mr. 
 Reeves, bluntly. — Katharine looked surprised. — 
 " I hope so, sir ; I don't know that there is anything 
 very difficult in it." — " But can you cover a great 
 many books ? " said Mrs. Reeves, laughing ; " little 
 troublesome books — and can you go on working a 
 whole evening?" — "Without once leaving off and 
 saying your fingers ache ? " added Mr. Reeves. — Ka- 
 tharine could not quite promise, but she said she had 
 had a good deal of practice. — " Just the very thing," 
 said Mr. Reeves. " Then will you come and drink 
 tea with us to-morrow evening, and help Mrs. 
 Reeves and your fellow-labourers in the Rilwortli 
 districts to cover and mark a large set of new tracts, 
 and some volumes for the lending library?" — " Yes, 
 indeed," Katharine said, with a bright smile ; " she 
 should like it very much indeed. At what hour 
 should she come ? " — " At seven, if that will suit 
 you," replied Mrs. Reeves ; " and please bring with 
 you the largest and least spoilable pair of scissors 
 you possess." — *' And remember," said Mr. Reeves, 
 " that you are to be very grateful to me for provid- 
 ing you with the tracts, I have heard nothing but 
 complaints of the old ones for the last three months." 
 — " And not quite undeserved, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Reeves. " A great many of them are uncommonly 
 dry, and all wonderfully dirty." Mr. Reeves laughed
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 197 
 
 " It was Mrs. Forbes who put you up to that," he 
 replied. '* She always read her tracts, which I am 
 quite sure you never do." — " Then we shall have 
 the pleasure of seeing you to-morrow at seven," 
 said Mrs. Reeves, shaking hands with Katharine. 
 " And don't let your father and mother scold us for 
 taking you away from them/' added Mr. Reeves. 
 " Will you, now I think of it, ask your father if he 
 has had any tidings of the book I asked him to get for 
 me ? He promised he would be on the look out for 
 it, and I have been intending to call every day and 
 hear if he had received, any tidings of it." — " And 
 pray tell Mrs. Ashton," said Mrs. Reeves, that she 
 need not trouble about your returning home at night, 
 because there will be two or three of our party 
 coming from your part of the town." — Again there 
 was a cordial good-bye; but Mr. Reeves could not 
 help returning to say : " I don't know, Miss Ashton, 
 whether you have heard a name which our friends 
 on the opposite side of the Atlantic sometimes give 
 to joint working parties — I heard it from a cousin 
 of mine who had been a good deal among them — they 
 call them 'Bees.' So now I give you a formal invi- 
 tation to a Parish Bee, and remember you are 
 punctual. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Katharine was quite punctual. She entered Mr. 
 Reeves' drawing-room exactly as the town-clock 
 struck seven. Yet she was not the first arrival. 
 Betsy Carter was there before her, and very busy, 
 so it seemed, for the books and tracts were laid iii)ou 
 the table, and she was sorting them. Katharine 
 o 3
 
 198 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 doubted, however, afterward?, -whether it was not a 
 self-imposed task, for Mr. Reeves, after shaking 
 hands with her, turned round, and said with a very 
 little impatience of manner : " Thank you, ISIiss 
 Carter, for troubling yourself with those books, but 
 I think I understand their arrangement best as they 
 are." — Miss Carter left the books ; but she wanted 
 extremely to find out whether there was a sufficient 
 quantity of coarse brown paper provided, and in- 
 sisted upon knowing whether Katharine had brought 
 her scissors. She appeared thoroughly at home, 
 and evidently did not seem to think it in the least 
 necessary to say "sir," to Mr. Reeves. Katharine 
 disliked her more than ever, and was quite glad 
 when some more arrivals threw her into the back- 
 ground. They were to have tea first in the dining- 
 room ; but it was not quite ready, so there was 
 about a quarter of an hour's conversation before- 
 hand. Katharine felt a little stiiF for a few minutes, 
 and sat up in a corner, and said nothing ; but she 
 found herself drawn out by degrees. Every one 
 talked about districts and poor people — that was 
 natural, — but then all had the same interests, so it 
 did not signify ; and Mr. Reeves managed cleverly 
 to lead them away from the state of Rilworth to 
 that of other places, and thence to the position of 
 the country at large ; till by degrees the conver- 
 sation ceased to be local, and became so interest- 
 ing, that Katharine was quite sorry when tea was 
 announced. She went down stairs last, and hap- 
 pened to sit next to Mr. Reeves ; and he pursued 
 the subject, and asked her if she had ever read any 
 account of the state of the poor in France before 
 the great Revolution. Katharine coloured, and 
 felt extremely awkward. Very little of her time 
 was given to reading, except when she read out 
 a novel to her mother. She had learnt about the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 199 
 
 French Revolution when she was at school ; but the 
 details had quite passed away from her mind. 
 Betsy Carter, however, knew a great deal about 
 it, and talked very learnedly, and gave it as her 
 opinion that the French Revolution was clearly 
 marked out in the Book of Revelations ; an obser- 
 vation which Mr. Reeves allowed to drop without 
 notice. Books, however, were evidently his favourite 
 topic, and when he found that Katharine did not say 
 much about them, he addressed himself to the Miss 
 Lockes, who were also near him. Katharine was 
 very much amused in listening to w^hat was said. 
 The Miss Lockes were both well informed and 
 w^ell bred, and so were the two elderly brown ladies, 
 the Miss Tracys, opposite to them ; and at times, 
 when any book was mentioned which was univer- 
 sally popular, the conversation became quite general. 
 Katharine did not feel herself as ignorant when story 
 books w^ere named as she did when there was an 
 allusion to history ; but she could not venture to say 
 much, though Mr. Reeves made several attempts to 
 draw her out. — " I suppose you have not much time 
 for reading," he said at length. — " Not much, sir," 
 was the answer. " I read books from the library 
 sometimes to my mother." — " And you have a very 
 fair choice there," said Mr. Reeves ; " I don't know 
 a better circulating library anywhere than Mr. 
 Ashton's, he has so many books of a better stamp 
 than novels." — " I think I read most of the novels/' 
 said Kathariiie, candidly ; " my mother likes them 
 best." — " I shall quarrel with you if you do that," 
 said Mr. Reeves, good-naturedly. " You should 
 take example from my friend here, Miss Locke, 
 who studies everything from algebra downwards." 
 — " Study would be very nice, I dare siiy, if one had 
 a good deal of time lor it," said Katharine. — " And 
 it is very nice when one has very little time for it," 
 o 4
 
 200 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 replied Mr. Reeves ; " especially if a person wants 
 to be useful, which I am sure you do." — " But 
 reading about the French Revolution will not help 
 to make me useful, though it may be very interest- 
 ing," said Katharine. — "I should like to argue that 
 point with you," said Mr. Reeves, lightly ; " but 
 my tracts will never have their new covers if we 
 begin now, so I shall leave you to your work, and 
 look in again upon you by-and-by." — He retreated to 
 his study, and the rest of the party went up stairs 
 again. Tea had made every one sociable ; and as 
 they all drew round the table, with the blazing 
 lire, and the bright lamp lighting up the room, 
 Katharine thought they were a very comfort- 
 able party, and wonderfully at home, considering 
 how very little they knew of each other. Mrs. 
 Reeves suggested what each was to do. It was 
 evident that she was an orderly person, and had 
 planned it all beforehand, for there was no time lost 
 in discussion ; and when the division of labour was 
 made, she proposed to read out whilst the work 
 went on, and at once brought out a light book of 
 travels ; and in this way the business of the evening 
 proceeded. It was all very odd to Katharine — it 
 seemed extremely like playing at work ; but there was 
 something pleasant in it, cheerful, and hearty ; and 
 she felt drawn in a manner towards those who were 
 working with her, much more so than she could 
 ever have been to INlatty Andrews, or the Miss 
 Maddens, if she had visited them every evening for 
 a month. The work took a longer time than could 
 have been expected. Mrs. Reeves read till she was 
 tired ; so did Miss Locke, and one of the Miss 
 Tracys ; and then Mrs. Reeves proposed that they 
 should have some music, and went herself to the 
 piano, and sang. Katharine enjoyed that extremely. 
 She had a quick ear for music, and could play a
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 201 
 
 little herself, but she had never practised much since 
 she left school, and had not often an opportunity 
 of hearing good music. One of the Miss Lockes 
 also sang nicely, and she and Mrs. Reeves tried 
 some duets together ; and then Mr. Reeves, hearing 
 the music going on, came in, and there was some 
 more conversation about music in general, and the 
 church music ; and Mr. Reeves suggested a plan for 
 making the school children practise better ; and two 
 or three of the persons present engaged to meet at 
 the church, once a week, to practise with them. 
 Katharine felt strongly that she was in an atmo- 
 sphere of usefulness, and it suited her active mind 
 much better thtin any other. But it was not a kind 
 of society which every one would enjoy ; Selina. 
 for instance, would have been quite out of her 
 element in it. The party broke up about half-past 
 nine. Katharine was to walk home with the Miss 
 Lockes, who lived at the bottom of High-street. 
 She was ready before them, and waited in the 
 drawing-room whilst they were putting on their 
 bonnets, and talking to Mrs. Reeves in another 
 room. Mr. Reeves was with her, and, rather to 
 Katharine's alarm, renewed the conversation about 
 books, by offering to lend her the volume of travels 
 they had been reading, if she would like to have it. 
 " I should like to think you were a reading person," 
 he said ; " it would save you a good deal of pain in 
 life." — "And make me useful?" said Katharine. — 
 "Yes, help very much — a great deal more than 
 you think — to make you useful. I wish you would 
 begin to read." Katharine laughed. '•' I should 
 
 like it, sir, if I had books, and time, and " " Oh ! 
 
 but make time," interrupted Mr. Reeves; "real 
 readers always make time." — "How ? "asked Katha- 
 rine. — "In the same way that every one makes time 
 for what he likes. It is an instinct, to be proved
 
 202 KATHAKIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 by experience, not by rule. And, my dear Miss 
 Ashton, if you don't begin now, you never will do 
 so." — " Not when I am old and infirm, and have 
 nothing else to do?" said Katharine. " No, indeed. 
 There is no taste more ditRcult to acquire, and no 
 habit more easily lost, than that of reading. Begin 
 early, and it will be a blessing to you tlirough life ; 
 neglect it, and you mny spend weeks, and months, 
 and even years, of helpless old age, longing that 
 you could care for books, and yet unable to take an 
 interest in them." — " But you must not think I 
 never read," said Katharine ; " I do very often read 
 to my mother ; and now and then I do in the evening 
 to my father, only he falls asleep generally." — "But 
 that kind of desultory reading is not what I mean," 
 said Mr. Reeves. " Really sensible, useful reading 
 is what I want to see you, and many like you, taking 
 delight in ; history, biography, travels, and of 
 course religious reading, — but that I don't think you 
 are so likely to omit." — Persons like me," said Katha- 
 rine, " think so much of household duties, that it 
 seems almost out of place, and not exactly a waste 
 of time, but something very like it, to spend our 
 leisure in what can be of so very little importance to 
 us." — "Yet you — I don't mean you individually — 
 think it no waste of time to learn a little French, 
 and a little music, and to make beautiful figures in 
 coloured worsteds, and all those wonderful ins and 
 outs with crooked needles, which are so much the 
 fashion." Katharine laughed. " I dare say it is 
 very ignorant of me not to know the advantage of 
 such occupations," continued Mr. Reeves ; " but you 
 must own that they are not more decidedly useful — 
 since you insist so much upon that point — than 
 reading history." — "I quite think the reading 
 history would be much more agreeable, and much 
 more profitable than worsted work and crochet,"
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 203 
 
 replied Katharine ; " but really I scarcely ever do 
 
 either." — " I quite believe you ; lam sure you are 
 
 an excellent housekeeper, and keep your lather's 
 
 accounts, and make his shirts, and do everything 
 
 which people say our grandmothers used to do ; and 
 
 I should be the very last person to suggest putting 
 
 a stop to any of these things. All I beg for is, that 
 
 if there should be a few leisure moments in the 
 
 course of the day they may be devoted to regular 
 
 reading, — what, perhaps, I may call study, — and 
 
 not merely to amusement. I should like to think 
 
 that you had always some sensible book in hand ; 
 
 that when one was finished, another was begun. I 
 
 will tell you one reason why I am so earnest upon 
 
 this point," he continued, becoming more grave ; 
 
 " it will not perhaps at once approve itself to your 
 
 mind, but I think you will enter into it when you 
 
 have thought it over. Tliere is an immense impetus 
 
 given to education now amongst the lower classes, — 
 
 they are treading very fast upon the heels of those 
 
 immediately above them. National education has 
 
 done this, whether wisely or unwisely I will not 
 
 pretend to say ; but if we wish to keep society in its 
 
 proper state, we must not let those who are below 
 
 us in outward circumstances rise above us in 
 
 intellect and information. If they do they Avill 
 
 naturally rebel against our superiority, and desire 
 
 to take our place. As an instance, in a town like 
 
 Rilworth a great deal of the work must be done by 
 
 the help of persons like yourself, very much engaged 
 
 in daily business, but willing to spare a little time 
 
 to the poor. Sunday-school work is almost entirely 
 
 carried on in this way ; but it requires more than a 
 
 good heart to be a really good Sunday-school 
 
 teacher. There must be thought, and study, and 
 
 acquaintance with history, and the manners and 
 
 customs of foreign countries ; for though it did very
 
 204 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 well in former days to go through a mere routine of 
 lessons, it will not do now. Children whose 
 intellects have been worked during the week will 
 also require a stimulus to their attention on the 
 Sunday ; but I cannot say myself that I know many 
 people able to give it, though I have most kind and 
 useful helpers in the school." Katharine looked 
 puzzled and frightened — the idea was beyond her; 
 and Mr. Reeves saw it, and said, "Perhaps I 
 ought not to have troubled you with a reason of 
 that kind, which principally concerns myself. You 
 must not think I want you to study and become a 
 learned person, in order to seize upon you for my 
 Sunday-school. I was only speaking generally, and 
 perhaps, even more with a view to large manuftic- 
 turing towns, than to Rilworth particularly. But 
 for yourself alone, I am sure you would find that 
 anything which strengthens and enlarges your 
 mind, as steady reading does and must, will also 
 help to fit you for the daily duties of life, and 
 make you more prepared for any position in which 
 it may please God to place you. The very effort 
 which thoughtful reading requires is an inestimable 
 benefit. May I give you the book of travels? " he 
 added, with a smile, as Mrs. Reeves and the Miss 
 Lockes entered the room. Katharine could only 
 say, " Thank you very much, sir/' and tell Mrs. 
 Reeves, as she wished lier good night, that she had 
 had a very pleasant evening. 
 
 " We shall triumph over the Union Ball, now, 
 my dear," said Mr. Reeves to his wife, as he sat 
 down by the fireside, when the party had dispersed, 
 and looked complacently round the room. " There 
 is more unity in covering tracts than in dancing 
 the polka together. Unity in work, not in play, 
 that I suspect is the secret." — '• Only it is such a 
 very small amount of unity,'' replied Mrs. Reeves.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 205 
 
 should never extend further, it is founded on a sure 
 principle, and therefore must last, and have influ- 
 ence." — -^^ The difficulty is, that unity in work must 
 be exclusive/' said Mrs. Reeves ; " people may 
 dance together, whatever principles they hold, but 
 they cannot work. You could not, for instance, 
 have asked dissenters to help you in arranging 
 church tracts." — " Rut is there any real unity where 
 there is not exclusiveness ? " said Mr. Keeves. 
 " Look at the ordering of Providential arrange- 
 ments with regard to families, nations, and even 
 the Christian church. Can anything be more 
 exclusive? — Eeal unity involves unity of feeling," 
 he continued, after a pause ; " feeling is depend- 
 ent upon principles of faith and practice; principles 
 upon truth ; and truth is in its very nature exclu- 
 sive. I grant you that we cannot ask dissenters to 
 help us in our work ; but neither can they ask us ; 
 and so we may agree to differ ; and in that very 
 agreement we shall find a certain amount of unity, 
 because each will be upholding principles which 
 are honestly believed to be truth." — " You will 
 never, I am afraid, find any mere worldly people 
 join with you in your theory of unity," observed 
 
 Mrs. Reeves " Of course not ; but then I shall 
 
 not expect it. You cannot make worldly people one ; 
 because, in order to be so, they must move round 
 one common centre; whilst, being what they are, tlie 
 centre of each is self; therefore there are as many 
 centres as there are individuals." — " And yet, w^hcn 
 one thinks of it, this does not seem to be quite the 
 case always," replied Mrs. Reeves. " Consider how 
 men of all ranks and all characters, good and bad, 
 unite on certain occasions, — elections, for instance ; 
 or even, as one may see every day in a town like 
 Rilworth, wh.cn any public work is to be done." —
 
 20G KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 "Exactly so; but that is just what I say, they 
 unite for work, and they have, for the time, a 
 common centre of interest. Such unity is true, and 
 legitimate, and useful. The misfortune is, that it 
 cannot last, because, when the object is accom- 
 plished, the feeling of unity will die away. If, 
 therefore, we wish for lasting unity, we must have 
 a lasting centre, and lasting work. I confess I see 
 it nowhere except in work done for God's Glory, 
 and the good of His Church. I think St. Paul 
 teaches us something of this kind," he added, taking 
 up a Bible ; and he turned to the fourth chapter of 
 the Epistle to the Ephesians, and pointed to the 
 words, " And he gave some apostles ; and some 
 prophets ; and some evangelists ; and some pas- 
 tors and teachers ; for the perfecting of the saints, 
 for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the 
 body of Christ : till we all come in the unity of the 
 faith, and of the knowdedgeof the Son of God, unto a 
 perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the 
 fulness of Christ." — " Yes," replied Mrs. Reeves, 
 when he had finished reading ; "and if the persons 
 you collect together were all simple and good, like 
 Mrs. Forbes and Katharine Ashton, it might be 
 easy enough to produce a feeling of unity, by 
 making them work for a common object. But 
 when one finds forward, pushing people, like 
 Miss Carter, one involuntarily shrinks back." — 
 " We must take people as they are. There is a 
 great deal of good about INIiss Carter, in spite of her 
 forwardness ; and if we can work upon that, we may 
 hope by-and-by that the worldly taint wdiich makes 
 her forward will diminish. When people are 
 thoroughly Christian, they become also thoroughly 
 well-bred. They see that God no more intends 
 outward distinctions to be done away with, because, 
 in His sight we are one, than He does that we
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 207 
 
 should all be equally rich, because we are equally 
 mortal." — " Then you don't think Miss Carter will 
 be angry with us because we do not ask her to a 
 regular dinner party ? " said Mrs. Reeves. — " She 
 may or may not be ; if she is, the fault will be hers, 
 not ours. Regular dinner parties, of which, by-the- 
 bye, we have not given one, to the best of my 
 knowledge, for the last twelvemonth, are formalities 
 of the w^orld, to be governed by the rules of the 
 world, like visits, or dress, or any other custom." — 
 •^And balls the same," said Mrs. Reeves, laughing. 
 Mr. Reeves looked half-annoyed, and half-amused. 
 " I could tell you such absurdities about that ball," 
 he said ; " grave matters, too, which may have grave 
 consequences. There is a complete split, I find, be- 
 tween what are called the Duchess's party, — young 
 Andrew^s and his friends, for instance, and the 
 town party ; and it is supposed that it will tell con- 
 siderably on the next election ; and that Colonel 
 Forbes will not have half the chance he had ; for 
 they say that the grandee supper, as it is called, 
 was his doing." — " What folly ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Reeves. — " Yes ; but more folly, a thousand times, 
 in those who planned such an absurdity, than in 
 those who carry it out to its natural consequences. 
 Colonel Forbes ought to have known better." — 
 '' I can ftmcy a man's making such a mistake," re- 
 plied Mrs. Reeves, " because men are accustomed 
 to join with people of every kind in matters of 
 business ; and so they may naturally suppose that 
 they would meet just as pleasantly for amusement." 
 — "He should have consulted a few ladies first," said 
 Mr. Reeves, with a smile. "Ril worth ladies, who 
 could understand the feeling of the town ; and 
 not the Duchess of Lowther, who could know 
 nothing about it. Women are the really difficult 
 people to manage when unity is in question." —
 
 208 KATHARINE ASPITOX. 
 
 " Because they are not accustomed to v;ork for a 
 common object, and move round a common centre," 
 said Mrs. Reeves. — " No ; they are essentially indi- 
 vidual, and there is really only one principle to 
 unite them." — " The principle which made us work 
 so diligently to cover your church tracts," said Mrs. 
 Reeves. — "I hope so. I give you credit for it at 
 least. And now we had better ring for prayers." 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Days went quickly on, and Katharine began to 
 count how many more must pass before the arrival 
 of Colonel and Mrs. Forbes at Maplestead. When- 
 ever she went with her brother or her father to 
 Moorlands, and this was not unfrequently, she saw^ 
 something in the way of preparation going on about 
 the house and in the grounds. More gardeners 
 seemed at work, and there were repairs at the lodge, 
 and the chimneys smoked more numerously and 
 constantly, as if the rooms were being well aired. 
 Report said they were to be at home the end 
 of November ; but Katharine had heard nothing 
 to be depended upon, and when she had asked 
 once or twice at the Lodge, all the answer she 
 could obtain was, " Can't say for certain. Mis?." 
 At last, however, a detinite idea was given her in 
 the form of a letter from Colonel Forbe's to her 
 father, giving an order for some very handsome 
 books, which he wished to have placed in Mrs. 
 Forbes' morning room before her return on the 
 8th. There was a pleasant postscript for Katha- 
 rine in the letter : " If it were not too much trouble, 
 it would be a great satisfaction to Colonel Forbes
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON". 209 
 
 if Miss Ashton would be so very kind as to see 
 herself that the books were properly arranged. He 
 should have hesitated to ask the favour, but he 
 believed Miss Ashton would be glad to do anything 
 which might conduce to Mrs. Forbes' pleasure." 
 Katharine's eyes sparkled w th delight. Yes, 
 indeed Colonel Forbes was right ; she should like 
 nothing better ; she would go over that very after- 
 noon. — " Only the books are not ready, my child," 
 said Mr. Ashton, quietly, as he stood by her, hold- 
 ing the open letter in his hand. " So kind of him 
 it is to ask me!" continued Katharine, scarcely 
 hearing what her father said; "I wish he would 
 let me have the whole care of putting her rooms in 
 order for her. Would'nt I work hard ! " — " I don't 
 see much kindness, except to himself," said Mr. 
 Ashton : " he wants the books unpacked and put 
 up, and he doesn't like to trust his servants to 
 touch them ; that's the long and short of the matter. 
 But, Kitty, you are bewitched with Mrs. Forbes, 
 and the Colonel too, I believe." — " Not the Colonel, 
 father ; no, not the Colonel," said Katharine, in a 
 tone of merriment ; " only when he asks me to do 
 the very thing I like best." — " But I don't see how 
 you are to be spared from home next week," said 
 Mrs. Ashton ; " John was talking to your father 
 and me last night, after you went to-bed," — " Oh ! 
 is that it?" exclaimed Katharine ; "I was sure he 
 had something on his mind, by the way he hurried 
 me off to-bed." — " Miss Selly consents to exchange 
 the Miss for Mrs. whenever John chooses," said 
 Mr. Ashton, " and of course John chooses the first 
 day possible, which will be Wednesday week." — 
 " That won't interfere with me," exclaimed Katha- 
 rine : " Wednesday is the 6th." Then, witli rather 
 a vexed smile, she added, " I am glad John was not 
 here to hear me think of myself first ; but I do feel, 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 mother, that he might have told me the day him- 
 self." — " He is a little shy of talking about it with 
 you," said Mrs. Ashton ; "he and Selly both see 
 you don't half like it." — " I wish not to show that I 
 don't, I am sure," replied Katharine ; " and, mother, 
 I really do with all my heart try to think the best 
 of it ; and I quite allow Selina is very handsome, 
 and cheerful, and pleasant, when things go smooth ; 
 and she is very kind to me always. 1 am sure there 
 is no reason for me to feel" — the sentence was not 
 finished, for Katharine bit her lip to prevent the 
 awkward rush of feeling which she feared might es- 
 cape her. " It's a little hard upon poor John, I must 
 say, Kitty," observed Mrs. Ashton ; "so kind as he has 
 always been to you, and thoughtful too I Only the 
 other day saying that he hoped you would go over 
 to Moorlands whenever you liked; and laughing 
 and saying you should be his bailiff when you were 
 tired of the shop." — "Did he say that?" exclaimed 
 Mr. Ashton ; " then he is a wiser man than I took 
 him for. I would match my Kitty's common sense 
 against half the experimental farmers in the king- 
 dom, let alone Charlie Ronaldson, who is a quick- 
 witted youth, only rather given to crotchets. Cheer 
 up, Kitty, my child ; you shall have a farm of your 
 own to manage one of these days." — " Thank you, 
 father," said Katliarine, smiling ; " and when that 
 happens you shall be my bailiff. But, mother, did 
 John say anything to you about my not liking the 
 marriage?" — "He said he did not like to talk to 
 you about Moorlands," replied Mrs. Ashton ; " and 
 he hinted that Selina thought you looked askance 
 at her." — "Now, really," exclaimed Katharine, "that 
 is too bad! I have only been asked to drink tea at 
 the Fowlers' twice since Selly was engaged, and 
 once then she looked so awkward at introducing 
 me when Miss Lane came in that 1 thought she
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 211 
 
 was quite ashamed of me. But, mother, dear, did 
 John saj anything else?" — "Nothing that I re- 
 member, only whether you would choose to be 
 bridesmaid." — " Of course, I shall," said Katharine; 
 " it is my place ; and if I hated the marriage twenty 
 times more than I do, I would not let the world 
 see it." — "Bravely said, Kitty," exclaimed Mr. 
 Ashton, patting her on the shoulder: "if it comes 
 to a fight between you and Miss Selly, remember I 
 back you." Katharine blushed, and looked heartily 
 ashamed of herself. " Oh ! father, I do wish I was 
 not so cross ; I wish things didn't make me so cross ; 
 but, — I won't talk of that though. Mother, do 
 you know what dress the bridesmaids are to 
 wear?" — "And who they are to be?" added Mr. 
 Ashton ; "I have not heard that yet." — "Matty An- 
 drews, and Julia Madden, and a cousin of Selly's, 
 and our Kate," replied Mrs. Ashton : " I don't 
 quite know what they have fixed on to wear." — 
 "But I must know to-night or to-morrow," said 
 Katharine ; " there will be no time to get the dress 
 made else. I think," she added, in an under tone, 
 " they might have done me the honour of consulting 
 me." — " Well, you had best go and have your 
 quarrel out with Miss Selly," said Mr. Ashton ; 
 " I see you are determined to pick a fault in her. 
 I am thankful I am not going to be your sister-in- 
 law, Kitty." — "Indeed, father," — and Katharine 
 looked very much distressed ; — " I do mean to be- 
 have kindly, and do all I can to make her and John 
 happy, but you know things are aggravating some- 
 times." — " Because you women make them so," said 
 Mr. Ashton ; " if you had great matters to worry 
 about, you would not trouble yourselves about little 
 ones. What can it signify to you whether you 
 have been consulted about a dress or not, so long as 
 it is ready in time ?" — " Nothing, father, nothing ;
 
 212 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 I was very silly," — and Katharine shut herself up in 
 close reserve, and determined never again to ven- 
 ture upon the smallest expression of her feelings as 
 to the marriage. Yet it did signify a great deal to 
 her. The neglect might appear trifling to Mr. 
 Ashton, but to Katharine it was another symptom 
 of the unkindness from which she suffered in some 
 manner almost every day. Selina was drawing her 
 brother out of his own family into hers ; not per- 
 haps by any premeditated plan, — she had not sense 
 enough for that, — but simply because her pride was 
 great and her will strong. John spent almost every 
 evening at Mr. Fowler's, but Selina made never- 
 ending excuses when it was any question of her 
 drinking tea at Mr. Ashton's. She could find time 
 for a gossiping walk with the Miss Maddens, but 
 she had never a moment to spare for Katharine ; and 
 though she would make Katharine useful in working 
 for her, and even allowed her to assist in making 
 up some of the furniture for Moorlands, she scarcely 
 ever asked her opinion upon any point. Katharine 
 was by nature as proud in her way as Selina was 
 in hers ; her spirit rebelled against anything like 
 impertinence or neglect. It was only by the greatest 
 effort at self-command that she could refrain from 
 giving quick answers, or making contemptuous 
 remarks. In spite of her best endeavours, the 
 feelings which were so frequently and suddenly 
 excited would occasionally find vent, as they had 
 on that particular occasion ; but they were always 
 followed by a bitter repentance. Katharine went 
 to her room now far more angry with herself than 
 she had ever been with Selina, — and yet angry 
 with her too, — and especially pained that her father 
 did not understand her, and her mother did not 
 help her. There was a complete turmoil of con- 
 flicting feelings in her breast. She had cause to
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 213 
 
 complain ; she knew that; yet, as she said to herself, 
 it was so sillj, so wrong, to speak when speaking 
 could do no good, and she had so often resolved not 
 to do it ! It was so weak to break her resolutions 
 in that way ! And, after all, what did she care about 
 being consulted ? It was very little to her whether 
 her dress was to be white, or pink, or blue ; and if 
 her opinion had been asked, it would most probably 
 not have been taken. But Katharine could not 
 reason herself into good-humour ; she had learnt 
 that : all persons with irritable tempers must learn 
 it sooner or later, if they hope to acquire self-com- 
 mand. But she could pray, and she did pray, at 
 first repeating words without being actually able to 
 apply the meaning to them, — her thoughts were so 
 preoccupied, and her feelings so excited, — but be- 
 coming gradually calmer as she tried to fix her 
 attention, and at last feeling that the victory was 
 gained, and she could think of Selina charitably, 
 of her father and mother dutifully, and of herself 
 humbly and with sorrow, yet not without a certain 
 consciousness of having been enabled to struggle, 
 and in a measure to conquer, which was a great 
 support to her resolutions. 
 
 And then she went out into her district. That 
 was better for Katharine than a sermon. Life there 
 was so real in its suffering, so serious in its events 
 and their consequences, that the trifling worries of 
 a home like hers sank into utter nothingness. The 
 poor shoemaker was dying, his wife nursing him 
 with a despairing hope which would not see the 
 evil that stared her in her face ; and the help that 
 was given could not keep her and her cliildren 
 from heavy privations ; and the past was dreary, 
 and the future at that moment without a ray of 
 light to brighten it. Katharine sat down by the 
 bedside, and heard moans for which she had no 
 
 V 3
 
 214 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 relief, and saw tears ^vhich she had no power to 
 dry, and thought with shame of those which she 
 had herself wasted upon the passing annoyances 
 of a moment. And from the shoemaker's she went 
 to another and a smaller cottage, where an only 
 daughter was dying of consumption, killed by hard 
 work and insufficient food ; and from thence to a 
 house, respectable in appearance, which was about 
 to be left for a wretched hovel in Briton's-court, 
 because the father of the family had met with an 
 accident, and lost his health and his work ; and from 
 thence she visited her lirst acquaintance. Jemmy 
 Dawes, and listened to his aunt's story of the 
 boy's drunken father, who had brought his wife and 
 the children to ruin ; and at last she turned into 
 Woodgate-street, to say a few words to Anne 
 Crossin, the washerwoman, and found her working 
 for her blind husband and her nine children, cheer- 
 ful, thankful, and hopeful, — and by that time her 
 own lesson of resignation was thoroughly learnt. 
 
 The parlour at home was, as it always was after 
 these district visits, a paradise of rest and comfort; 
 and still more resting to Katharine's mind was the 
 volume of travels which Mr. Reeves had lent her, 
 and which she was reading through regularly. She 
 had but one half-hour to devote to it — the half- 
 hour before tea; but Katharine was very methodical 
 in her habits, and when she had made up her mind 
 that the book was to be read, she fixed the time 
 and kept to it. And she was already reaping the 
 benefit, feeling that she was gaining new ideas and 
 enlarging her subjects of thought. Not that it was 
 always easy to read; it was very difficult, indeed, at 
 first, for she had acquired a habit of reading out 
 light books to her mother, without much attention, 
 and it was long since she had applied herself to 
 anything like study. But Katharine, besides being
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 215 
 
 naturally very intelligent, was blessed with great 
 power of will, strengthened by continual exercise in 
 a right direction. — What she ought to do she felt 
 she could do. Mr. Reeves had told her she ought 
 to cultivate her mind, and she determined that she 
 would do so, first by reading, then by conversation. 
 Katharine found, that when people talked of things 
 they understood, there was a good deal to be gained 
 from conversation. Her father was a very well in- 
 formed man upon subjects connected with his busi- 
 ness, and many others of general interest and there 
 were several persons like him whom she occasion- 
 ally saw. — It was a pleasant thought that Charles 
 Ronaldson would be drinking tea with them that 
 evening : his conversation was always improving, 
 only Katharine was too much afraid of him to ask 
 questions. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The bridesmaids' dresses were to be pale violet 
 silk, and the bonnets were to be pink satin ; and 
 a satin bonnet was Katharine's abhorrence ; but 
 she behaved uncommonly well when the un- 
 pleasant fact was communicated to her, and only 
 petitioned, rather too urgently since it was all in 
 vain, for a straw bonnet — fancy straw, if necessary, 
 — which might be trimmed with white, and so serve 
 for ordinary occasions. It seemed to Katharine as 
 if she had done nothing but think of, and buy, 
 useless dresses of late. There was the ball dress — 
 the white muslin with the pink sash — lying in her 
 drawer, unthought of; and this dreadful new bon- 
 net was likely, she was sure, to have the same fate. 
 Why did people choose things which could be no
 
 216 KATHARINE ASHTON 
 
 good afterwards ? Selina was very little with them 
 now ; all her thoughts were of course occupied 
 with preparations ; and Katharine could not help 
 contrasting Jane Sinclair's quiet seriousness, when 
 she spoke of the future, and the thoughtful care 
 which could arrange for the comfort of others up to 
 almost the last moment before her marriage, with 
 the whirl of folly and expense in which Selina was 
 involved. But there was no opening for remon- 
 strance; Katharine knew she was looked down 
 upon ; and, besides, Selina had an excuse ready for 
 every wish : " She was not likely to be married 
 more than once in her life, and so she had better 
 make the most of the occasion." 
 
 Moorlands was beginning to look very comfort- 
 able, though there was a good deal still to be done 
 in the way of repairs ; but these were chiefly in the 
 outhouses, and could be managed best, John said, 
 after they were settled there ; so the ornamental 
 part of the work was attended to first, as being the 
 most pressing. After the wedding it was pro- 
 posed that John and Selina should spend a fortnight 
 with one of Mrs. Fowler's sisters, who lived at a 
 small watering place about twenty miles from Ril- 
 worth ; and during that time Mr. Ashton agreed 
 that Moorlands should be made quite ready for 
 them. No one in Mr. Fowler's house talked of 
 anything but the marriage, neither did any one in 
 Mr. Ashton's, except Katharine ; and she, though 
 she did not talk, worked, and that most diligently. 
 As far as she could assist in saving John from 
 foolish expense, she was determined she would ; 
 and many things which he would have ordered 
 from an upholsterer's were contrived by her and 
 her mother. Selina, too, made her useful as re- 
 garded dress; in fact, the last week before the 
 marriage was so fully occupied, that she had no
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 217 
 
 time for reading, and could not attend to any 
 district business except that which was especially 
 urgent. Katharine found the benefit of all this in 
 its soothing effect upon her own ruffled temper and 
 spirits ; whilst she was doing kindnesses, she could 
 not continue to feel unkindly; and John and Selina, 
 and even Mrs. Fowler, were at last aware that 
 Katharine would make a very useful, sensible, good- 
 natured sister-in-law, and, in consequence, began to 
 show her more attention. Mrs. Fowler asked her to 
 drink tea, and said something civil about her to her 
 mother, though it was a little too condescending 
 in style to please Katharine's taste. One thing she 
 was beginning to perceive, and it made the future 
 seem more easy : usefulness was what she was in- 
 tended for in life, evidently ; her quickness in work 
 to be done by the hand, and her quiet, domestic 
 tastes, all tended that way. If, therefore, she 
 wished to do good to John and Selina, or to any 
 one, she must not try to be agreeable to them, or to 
 humour their tastes, and be like them, — she must 
 simply content herself with being useful. 
 
 And with this determination to be useful, Ka- 
 tharine put on her violet silk at half-past eight 
 o'clock on the morning of her brother's wedding- 
 day, and went up to Mrs. Fowler's to know how 
 she could best assist everybody. Such a curious 
 contrast the whole thing was to Jane Sinclair's 
 wedding! The comparison was continually in 
 Katharine's mind. Selina so excited, and Mrs. 
 Fowler so bustling ! and nothing, as it seemed, to 
 be found in its right place ; and not a fourth part of 
 the breakfast preparations ready : Katharine offered 
 to take upon herself that department, and actually 
 went into the dining-room and assisted in putting 
 the dishes upon the table, and twice went up and 
 down the street to fetch things which were wanting
 
 218 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 from her own home, putting a shawl though over 
 the new silk, and borrowing an old bonnet of 
 Selina's, that she might not have the little boys 
 pointing at her for a bridesmaid. And then she 
 and Mr. Fowler consulted about the quantity of 
 wine which would be required ; and she went with 
 him to the cellar, and stood at the door, and loaded 
 herself with black bottles, and took care that they 
 were properly decantered, all the time feeling that 
 the new silk dress, though she had put an apron 
 over it, was sadly out of place, and would very 
 likely be spoiled. But all was ready at last, and 
 then Katharine went into the drawing-room to meet 
 her violet sisters. Miss Julia Madden and Matty 
 Andrews, and the cousin Constantia, who had 
 arrived the night before, expressly for the occa- 
 sion, and had just made her appearance from her 
 bed-room; and no one, except Mrs. Fowler, knew 
 that she, like them, was not fresh from an elaborate 
 toilet. 
 
 Numerous were the guests ; very gay the dresses ; 
 very well decked out the carriages and servants. 
 Selina kept them all waiting about twenty minutes, 
 and then appeared veiled and wreathed in true 
 bridal fashion, and looking very handsome, very 
 merry, and very much at her ease ; and the party 
 drove off to the church, and as they went up the 
 church-yard a number of little children threw the 
 scattered remains of dying autumnal flowers into 
 the path, and held out their hands for half-pence. 
 And then, — it was a solemn service, — it can never 
 be otherwise ; but it seemed to Katharine wonder- 
 fully soon over, and in another half-hour she was 
 sitting at Mr. Fowler's breakfast-table, listening to 
 the cheers and speeches in honour of Mr. and Mrs. 
 John Ashton. 
 
 A lonsr afternoon that was ! It would have been in-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 2 19 
 
 terminable but for the necessity of cutting up wedding 
 cake, in three-cornered slices, and packing it in white 
 paper, and tying together glazed cards with satin rib- 
 bon and silver thread. That, happily, was something 
 to do, and the bridesmaids were indefatigable for 
 about an hour ; but after that time their energy began 
 to flag, and at length failed so entirely that Katharine 
 and Mrs. Fowler were left to complete the work, 
 whilst they went home to rest and prepare for the 
 evening party. Katharine folded, and sealed, and 
 directed till five o'clock ; then sat down to dine upon 
 cold mutton with Mr. and Mrs. Fowler, in the back 
 parlour; then helped to put the drawing-room in 
 order for the evening guests ; then went home 
 to array herself once more in white muslin and a 
 pink sash, came back and danced three country 
 dances, and two quadrilles, and about twelve o'clock 
 walked home with her father and mother, and 
 wished them good night with a yawning ejacu- 
 lation : — " Oh ! mother, dear, aren't you glad that 
 marriages don't come every day ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 And the next business was to go over to Maple- 
 stead, to arrange the books for Mrs. Forbes. That 
 was the pleasant thought which suggested itself to 
 Katharine, when, tired with the wedding exertions, 
 she awoke at a late hour the following morning. 
 The books had arrived only the day before, and had 
 been sent over in readiness for her unpacking. 
 There were a good many of them, and Colonel 
 Forbes had written again about them to Mr. Ashton, 
 and expressed a fear that Katharine might find tho
 
 220 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 task she had undertaken a little troublesome, as he 
 imagined that the books in the morning-room would 
 require a completely new arrangement. But Katha- 
 rine was not inclined to think anything a trouble 
 which could please Mrs. Forbes, and it so happened 
 that the occupation came just at the right moment, 
 when she was feeling a little jaded, and was suffer- 
 ing from the reaction of a week of excitement, so 
 that common duties would have been rather irk- 
 some. 
 
 Breakfast was not over till after half-past nine 
 o'clock, and then Katharine attended to all her 
 little household duties, and took care that nothing 
 should be wanting for the comfort of her father 
 and mother during the day, and about eleven set off 
 for her walk. It was a calm, warm, December day — 
 misty, yet with occasional gleams of brightness — 
 almost a remembrance of summer ; and Katharine 
 very much enjoyed her quiet walk on the beautiful 
 Maplestead Road. She was tired, but not so much 
 physically as mentally, and the silence and solitude 
 were very refreshing. It would have been a good 
 occasion for thought with many, but Katharine had 
 not yet learnt to think ; she was laying up materials 
 by quick observation, but she was as yet too eager, 
 too rapid and interested, in all she did or saw — the 
 world was too vivid a reality to give her much 
 power of real thought; only, at times, there came 
 that sudden questioning, — that longing to under- 
 stand the mysteries of life, — that keen perception 
 of the awful depth of misery, and height of happiness, 
 involved in a state of probation, which made her, 
 as it were, pause on the journey of existence, and 
 look round for some one to assist her in bearing the 
 burden of its responsibilities. 
 
 Some such feeling came over her mind on this 
 day, as she entered the hall at Mai)lestead. She
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 221 
 
 had never before been in any place like it. She 
 had never seen anything so handsome and imposing. 
 It was low, but that she did not notice ; it was the 
 vastness which struck her, — the richness of the 
 carvings, — the solemnising effect of the deep win- 
 dows, and the coloured glass, marked with the arms 
 and crest of the old family of the Clares, from whose 
 possession the place had lately passed, on the death 
 of the last direct representative of the race, a 
 solitary, and, as report said, miserable and miserly 
 old bachelor. The buried hopes of the dead seemed 
 struggling with the bright happiness of the living. 
 Katharine, as she looked around, thought of Jane 
 Forbes returning to this place as her home, — to con- 
 centrate in it all her interests, — to fill it with asso- 
 ciations of joy, — to make it a scene of peace, and 
 usefulness, and love, and then, like those who had 
 gone before, to pass away, — to be forgotten, — even 
 as if she had never been. It seemed very strange, 
 very wonderful. But for the evidence of her own 
 feelings, — the indestructible consciousness, that life 
 is inexpressibly, unspeakably valuable — Katharine 
 could have gazed on all she saw with indifference, 
 and believed that life was nothing but a dream, its 
 interests unsubstantial, and the necessity for any 
 work which was so soon to be destroyed a vain 
 delusion. There was no one then at hand to remind 
 her, that, as we work upon the outer surface of the 
 world which we see, we are at the same moment 
 indenting ineffaceable lines upon that true and 
 spiritual world which lies beneath it. 
 
 The housekeeper, who received her in the hall, 
 according, as she said, to her master's orders, saw 
 that the size of the place, and its beauty, gave 
 her pleasure, and offered to take her over tlie 
 house ; but Katharine had come for business, and 
 she was not to be turned aside from it. " The days
 
 222 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 were short," she said, " and she was later than she 
 had intended ; so, if there was no objection, she 
 would go at once to the morning- room, and see 
 what was to be done ; and then, if there was 
 time, she would go over the house before she went 
 home; or, if not, she might have an opportunity 
 another day." 
 
 The housekeeper approved, and led the way up the 
 old-fashioned, shallow steps of the broad oak stair- 
 case, which gave Katharine a longing impulse to 
 run up two stairs at once, and reach the top in half 
 the time taken by her stately and portly conduc- 
 tress. Two long, narrow passages diverged from 
 the open lobby at the head of the stairs — the east 
 and west galleries, as the housekeeper called them, 
 when she grandly pointed them out to Katharine ; 
 but the morning-room opened upon the lobby, and 
 into this she was ushered at once. Much more like 
 Jane this was than the hall: the windows were large 
 and modernised, and the ceiling was not so low, and 
 the furniture not by any means so old-fashioned, 
 and Katharine felt the awe which had crept over 
 her considerably diminished. The housekeeper pro- 
 mised to send a man directly to unpack the boxes, 
 and offered luncheon, and did, in fact, everything 
 which civility could require ; and Katharine took off 
 her bonnet and sat down to rest for a few minutes 
 before she began her work. She w^as looking round 
 the room, thinking how pretty and pleasant it was, 
 and fancying — not exactly wishing, but fancying — 
 how she should like to be in Jane's position, when 
 the housekeeper came back, bringing in her hand 
 a little note. She was full of apologies : " The note 
 had come the evening before, inclosed in one to her- 
 self from the Colonel. She ought to have brought 
 it to Miss Asliton at once, but she had forgotten it 
 at the first moment." Katharine received the note
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 223 
 
 with pleasure, thinking, of course, it was from Jane; 
 but no, it was in Colonel Forbes' handwriting, and 
 only contained a list of books, placed as nearly 
 as possible in the order in which he wished them 
 to be arranged. The housekeeper went away, 
 and Katharine laid down the note ; but, on taking 
 up the paper once more, she saw written on the 
 other side : " Will Miss Ashton be kind enough 
 to see that these directions are fully attended to, 
 and that the room is ready for the reception of 
 Mrs. Forbes on the 7th." — " To-day !" exclaimed 
 Katharine, involuntarily, as she started from her 
 seat; and without pausing to consider, she rang 
 the bell. A housemaid appeared, and Katharine 
 begged again to see the housekeeper; and in her 
 impatience to begin her work, as the man promised 
 had not made his appearance, she knelt down on the 
 floor and tried to unfasten the cords of the book- 
 boxes, but they were quite beyond her strength, 
 accustomed though she was to work of the kind. 
 She was nearly out of breath when the house- 
 keeper appeared. " Colonel Forbes says he is to 
 be here this evening," she began, in a complaining 
 tone, as if the housekeeper and the Colonel had 
 been plotting against her. — "Yes, Miss Ashton, 
 this evening ; we expect the Colonel and his lady 
 about six o'clock," said the surprised Mrs. Brown. 
 — " But you never told me so," continued Katharine, 
 in the same tone, and pulling as she spoke at the 
 cords.— "I thought, of course. Miss Ashton, you 
 knew. The Colonel said he had written to you." 
 — " But I shall not be ready ; it is impossible I 
 should be," observed Katharine : " I quite reckoned 
 upon their not being here till the 8th. I am sure 
 Colonel Forbes said so." — " The 8th was the day 
 fixed at first, and then it was changed to the 7th, 
 JSIiss Ashton ; but can't the maids come and lielp
 
 224 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 you ?" Katharine looked despairingly at the list. 
 " And all the books are to be arranged," she said ; 
 " the old as well as the new : they are all marked 
 down." The housekeeper smiled. " Oh ! yes, Miss 
 Ashton, of course they are. The Colonel never has 
 anything done without knowing how; little matters 
 or great, it's all the same. But don't fret about 
 it," she continued, good-naturedly, seeing Katharine's 
 face of vexation ; " there are two of the maids doing 
 nothing, and they can quite well make themselves 
 of use. I would come myself, only, really, I have 
 half a hundred things to look to." Katharine was 
 glad of the idea of assistance ; but then she recol- 
 lected her father's remark, that the Colonel did not 
 like the servants to touch his books. She must do 
 it all herself; there was no help for it ; but, would 
 the man come and unfasten the cords ? It seemed 
 as if there was a spell against that first necessary 
 step. The housekeeper agreed that, if the Colonel 
 had said Miss Ashton was to do it. Miss Ashton 
 must do it, and she departed. And again Katha- 
 rine sat down, not to rest, but to beat her foot upon 
 the floor in impatience, and then scold herself for 
 naughtiness, feeling all the time as if in some way 
 she had put herself into the power of a master, now 
 that she had once engaged to work for Colonel 
 Forbes. The boxes were unfastened at last, and 
 Katharine began her task, energetically but metho- 
 dically, feeling that it was very hard work — espe- 
 cially hard after the labours of the preceding day, 
 and tlie unusually short night's rest — but not daring 
 to leave off: why, slie did not exactly ask herself. 
 Partly, it certainly was, because she would have been 
 sorry that Jane should return and find her room 
 not ready ; but partly also, perhaps mostly, because 
 she could not possibly displease Colonel Forbes. 
 She worked till it grew dusk, and dusk came
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 225 
 
 alarmingly soon, especially in that room looking to 
 the east, and with the trees of the park rather shut- 
 ting out the sky. The housekeeper had sent her 
 some luncheon, but she had scarcely touched it ; all 
 she thought of was the necessity of finding vol. ii. 
 and placing it next to vol. i., and taking care that 
 there should be no book turned upside down, no 
 mistake made in titles. At last, as the clock struck 
 four, she began to think of herself and to feel rather 
 exhausted ; and she left off for a few minutes and 
 ate the remainder of the sandwiches, and drank the 
 wine which before she had refused. Mrs. Brown 
 had said she expected them about six, but having 
 been once deceived in her calculations, Katharine 
 could not feel quite secure that they would not, by 
 some unforeseen arrangement, arrive sooner ; and 
 she listened to every distant sound, and even to 
 the moanings of the autumnal wind, thinking that 
 they were surely at hand, and that she should be 
 called to account for her unfinished work. At last 
 it grew so dark that she could not see to finish her 
 work without candles, and then she recollected her 
 walk home — a difficulty not easily to be surmounted. 
 Her father would be displeased if she went back 
 late alone, and yet she had no one to accompany 
 her. Even if she set off at once, she could scarcely 
 reach Rilwortli before it was quite dark ; and then 
 to leave the room in such a state — books lying 
 about, packing boxes, paper, dusters — it would put 
 Colonel Forbes in a frenzy to see it. No, she must 
 remain where she was — she must wait and trust 
 that some way would be found of sending her 
 back ; and in the meantime she determined to 
 write a note to her mother, and ask to have it sent 
 into Rilwortli, to let her know how she was cir- 
 cumstanced. The idea was no sooner approved of 
 by Katharine's judgment than it was acted upon. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 Mrs. Brown was summoned, the note written, and 
 dispatched ; candles were brought, and again Ka- 
 tharine set to work. The housemaids also were 
 sent to assist her by putting the room in order, 
 and carrying away the boxes and loose paper ; and 
 there really appeared to be some chance of being 
 ready by the right time. " There is a carriage — I 
 am sure I hear a carriage," said Katharine, laying 
 down a set of small, beautifully-bound volumes of 
 Racine, which she was just going to place upon 
 the top shelf. " Oh ! no, miss ; no carriage," said 
 the upper housemaid ; " the wind always makes 
 that kind of growl when it's getting up." Katha- 
 rine moved the step ladder, mounted it with the 
 books in her hand, and listened again. " It is 
 coming nearer ; I am certain it is in the avenue." — 
 "Dear no, miss; it is always so," was the reply 
 of the impassive housemaid, who had no cause 
 to fear reproof. Not so Katharine. She cast a 
 despairing glance around the room : '' You have 
 not half-done what I wanted," she said impatiently; 
 "can't you carry off all those paper shreds, and 
 that rope in the corner? Just look, the room is 
 in a complete mess." — " Never fear, miss ; it will all 
 be right. Here, Fanny;" and Fanny, the slowest 
 of the slow, waited to be spoken to twice, and then 
 said she would come, and remained to roll up a 
 ball of twine, till Katharine, with her patience 
 utterly exhausted, rushed down from the steps, 
 collected every scrap of rubbish she could find, 
 filled the girl's apron, and bade her carry it ofF 
 instantly; and, mounting the steps again with some 
 volumes of Racine in her hand, lost her balance, 
 and trying to regain it scattered the volumes on the 
 floor. 
 
 " They be come, Esther, and you be wanted.' 
 The provoking Fanny put her head in at tlie door,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 227 
 
 {ind vanished again in an instant, followed by 
 Esther. Katharine sat down upon the upper step 
 of the ladder, and felt almost inclined to cry ; but 
 she conquered the silly feeling, and tried to finish, 
 what the housemaids had left undone. She could 
 not help, however, pausing every now and then to 
 know what was going on in the house, for there 
 was a considerable bustle — distant voices, doors 
 opening and shutting, servants coming up and down 
 the stairs with luggage ; and every moment she ex- 
 pected to see Colonel and Mrs. Forbes enter the 
 room. How cordially she wished herself at home ! 
 It would seem quite like an intrusion for her to be 
 there just at the moment of their arrival, and they 
 might — or at least the Colonel might — fancy it was 
 done on purpose. As for making the room look as 
 it ought to look, it was perfectly hopeless ; and 
 Katharine was becoming so tired and confused, that 
 she gave herself twice the trouble that was neces- 
 sary, because she could not decide what to do ; and 
 so began one thing, and then left it and went to 
 another, and came back again to the first, and in 
 the end scarcely advanced at all. If it had been 
 Miss Sinclair whom she was expecting, w4iat a 
 trifle all this would have seemed ! But Mrs. Forbes 
 — that made a most astonishing difference. 
 
 She heard them at length come up the great 
 staircase — she heard Jane's sweet voice speaking to 
 the housekeeper, and she caught a few softened 
 tones from Colonel Forbes, addressed apparently to 
 his wife. They were coming, certainly, they must 
 be coming ; and Katharine snuffed the tallow 
 candle as the last hope of doing something to make 
 the room comfortable. But there was a little respite ; 
 Jane went to her own apartment, and Katharine 
 worked on again, and thought she was growincj 
 quite callous, till some one touched the handle of 
 Q 2
 
 228 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 the door, and then, as she Avas kneeling on the 
 floor, she turned her head round suddenly, and saw 
 Colonel Forbes. 
 
 He did not see her at first, but she saAV him quite 
 plainly — too plainly. He did not exclaim at all, 
 but he walked up to the fireplace and rang the 
 bell violently, and then stood on the hearth-rug 
 with his arms folded. Katharine came forward as 
 bold as a lion in appearance — as timid as a fright- 
 ened hare in reality. He started as she came into 
 the light, bowed, and, in the stifFest, coldest manner, 
 thanked her for the trouble she had taken. Such 
 a very peculiar emphasis there was on tlie word 
 trouble ! Katharine felt offended, and replied, '-'that 
 he could not think from what he saw tliat she had 
 taken any trouble, but there had been some most 
 unfortunate mistakes." — " Oh ! pray don't distress 
 yourself to explain ; pray don't think it of any con- 
 sequence," and the bell received another violent 
 pull. The first was answered almost at the same 
 moment. " Send the housemaid here to remove all 
 this rubbish, and let candles be carried into my 
 study." He walked up to the bookshelves, and on 
 his way stumbled over an unfortunate volume which 
 had fallen from Katharine's hand, and which she 
 had not perceived. One of the leaves was crumpled, 
 and he brought it to the light, inspected it, but 
 made no observation ; and then, taking up the 
 candle, walked carefully round the room, kicking 
 at every piece of paper which lay in his way, and 
 stooping down, evidently with the idea that he 
 should find some more of his beautiful books in the 
 same unseemly position. 
 
 It really was to Katharine the most uncomfortable 
 moment she had ever experienced ; she did not 
 know whether to stay or go — whether to apologise 
 and explain, or remain silent. She was debating
 
 ELITHARINE ASHTON. 229 
 
 still, when her difficulty was solved, for Jane 
 entered the room. Katharine's impulse was to 
 rush up to her ; but she was stopped, for Jane's 
 first thought and first glance were lor her husband, 
 yet her first words, accompanied by a kind though 
 rather nervous greeting, were for Katharine. " How 
 good it was," she said, " to be there working so hard 
 and so late." She had heard all about the mistake 
 from the housekeeper, and she was so sorry. She 
 should not have thought of giving such trouble herself. 
 It was Colonel Forbes." A pause, and a second glance 
 at her husband. She went up to him, " Dear Pliilip," 
 and her hand was laid fondly on his shoulder, " we 
 will all work hard together to-morrow." He could 
 not resist her smile, and when he looked at her he 
 smiled too, but lie said nothing to Katharine. " We 
 have kept Katharine so late we must send her home 
 in the carriage," continued Jane ; " the horses will 
 scarcely have been taken out." Still the Colonel 
 was silent. " If I might have any one to walk with 
 me," said Katharine, " that is all I should want ; 
 and I might stay then later and finish my work, if 
 there was no objection." She said this to Jane, 
 but it was answered by Colonel Forbes ; " You are 
 very good. Miss Ashton, but I see no necessity for 
 giving you more trouble ; we will take care that 
 you shall have a safe escort." He re-opened the 
 injured book and once more held it to the candle. 
 Jane snuifed the wick, which had again become de- 
 plorably long, and laughed faintly, and said, " It 
 is not a very splendid light, had Ave not better 
 go down stairs?" He laid the book on the table 
 with the air of a martyr, and left the room with a 
 cold " Good evening, Miss Ashton," and " thank 
 you. Jane, are you ready for dinner? — It wants 
 but three minutes." 
 
 "I must not keep him," said Jane, in an accent 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 of relief, as soon as the door was closed ; " but, dear 
 Katharine, I am so infinitely obliged to you, and so 
 distressed at the annoyance you have had. — Don't 
 think about that, pray," she added, as Katharine's 
 eye rested upon the unhappy volume of Racine ; 
 " the crease will soon wear out, and Colonel Forbes 
 will forget it to-morrow. What I want to ar- 
 range now is about your going home ; you can't 
 really walk. I wish — but can't you sleep here ? 
 can't we send word to your father and mother that 
 you will sleep here?" — "Oh, no I " Katharine 
 rejected the idea in a moment. " She did not in 
 the least care for the walk," she said. " She would 
 rather walk indeed." — " The second bell ! " exclaimed 
 Jane. " I must not wait a minute. Dear Katha- 
 rine, thank you a thousand times ; please settle 
 whatever you like with the housekeeper. I shall 
 come and see you the very first day I can. 
 Thank you, once more, so very, very much ; I 
 would wait if I could, but I must not." Jane 
 gave a parting most affectionate shake of the 
 hand, and Katharine was left in the still untidy 
 room, with the candle nearly burnt to its 
 socket, to determine for herself what was to be 
 (lone. She felt very angry, very proud, as much 
 so with Jane as with the Colonel, in the first mo- 
 ments of petulance. What signified kind words 
 when kind deeds were wanting ? The carriage ! — 
 she w^ould sooner set off by herself and walk alone 
 to Rilworth, and trust to make her excuses with 
 her father than accept one out of tw^enty carriages 
 if they were all at the door waiting for her ; and 
 as to sleeping in the house, sooner than put herself 
 under the obligation, she would beg for a bed at 
 the lodge. Yet something in her heart reproached 
 her as she thought this — a recollection of the 
 partina: kiss on the wedding day — the kiss which
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON". 231 
 
 she had felt at the time would bind her to Jane 
 for life. Xo, she Avould not be hard upon her, 
 she would wait and not judge ; but she was dis- 
 appointed bitterly, that she could not help. And 
 now what was to be done ? Katharine thought she 
 heard a housemaid coming up the stairs, and went 
 out to see, but she met one of the men-servants 
 bringing her a message from Colonel Forbes ; " It 
 was raining a little, and if Miss Ashton did not 
 object to go home in the tilted cart, it was quite 
 at her service ;" and there were a few pencil lines 
 scribbled by Jane on the back of a letter. — '* Dear 
 Katharine : Shall you mind the cart very much ? 
 I could not get anything better, because Colonel 
 Forbes says the horses have been such a distance ; 
 and will you object to having tea in the house- 
 keeper's room ? she will be charmed to make you 
 comfortable. So many thanks for all you have 
 done. Affectionately yours, J. F," — If it had been 
 a wheelbarrow which was offered her, Katharine 
 would not have cared then. She felt that she had 
 been unjust. Jane Forbes was still Jane Sinclair, 
 and could not forget her comfort. She went to 
 the housekeeper's room and had her tea, and 
 rested in the armchair, and was waited upon very 
 kindly ; and then the tilted-cart came to the door, 
 and Jane hurried out from the dining-room to bid 
 her once more good-bye, and she was driven home 
 safely. 
 
 A great many thoughts, and fancies, and cogita- 
 tions filled Katharine's mind that evening; but one 
 was uppermost — for what inducement would she 
 consent to change places with Jane Forbes ? 
 
 q4
 
 232 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The next morning Katharine was lingering after 
 breakfast, amusing her mother with her little ad- 
 ventures of the preceding day, when Mr. Ashton 
 came in from the shop, bringing news from Maple- 
 stead : " That set of Racine returned, Kitty ; sent 
 in by a servant, with a note, begging that I will try 
 and dispose of it for Colonel Forbes as a second- 
 hand book, as it has been injured, and procure him 
 another copy. What can be the meaning of it ? Is 
 it my fault or theirs, I wonder." Katharine coloured 
 with vexation, but could not help laughing. '■ It is 
 my doing, father ; all owing to that unfortunate 
 downfall. But can you imagine a man's being so 
 particular ?" — " You don't understand what gentle- 
 men are with their books, when they care for them 
 at all, Kitty," said Mr. Ashton. " It is very pro- 
 voking ; and the Colonel won't look very pleasantly 
 on you, child, for giving him the worry." — " Xo," 
 said Katharine, becoming more vexed as she gave the 
 subject further consideration; — "and he is not a 
 man to make an apology to. Do you think, father ?" 
 She stopped in the middle of her sentence, afraid to 
 mention her wish ; but she was helped by her 
 mother : " If the Colonel really does feel it's Kitty's 
 doing, Mr. Ashton, the shortest way would be to 
 take the books back and sell them second-hand for 
 ourselves, and get him another copy at our expense. 
 It wouldn't be such a very great loss." — " More than 
 you think for, my dear," was the reply ; and Mr. 
 Ashton, who would have been just the person to 
 propose the plan himself, after the deliberation of 
 another five minutes, was now exceedingly annoyed
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 233 
 
 at having it suggested to him. " I don't see," he 
 continued, "why I am to be made to suffer from 
 Kitty's carelessness. If she spoils books she must 
 pay for them. I declare I have a good mind to 
 tai?;e the money from the next fineries she wants." 
 Katharine did not say that was just what she would 
 wish, because she knew that argument would make 
 him more angry than contradiction. She allowed 
 him to give vent to a i'ew more hasty words, and 
 then she said : " If I might w^alk over to Maplestead 
 this morning and see Mrs. Forbes, I might make 
 an apology to her at any rate."' — " Perhaps that 
 would be the best way," said Mrs. Ashton; " at any 
 rate you would see then whether the Colonel is 
 really very much put out." — "Aye, go," said Mr. 
 Ashton, his brow, in spite of himself, relaxing into 
 good humour ; " but mind you tell her that you are 
 to pay for the books yourself. I protest you shalL I 
 won't bear waste and carelessness from any one." 
 Katharine gave him a kiss, and he returned it w^ith 
 the assurance that she was the most good-for- 
 nothing child in Ililworth; and then he went back to 
 his shop looking as pleased as if nothing disagreeable 
 had occurred, and Katharine turned to her mother 
 to thank her for coming to her assistance. " Your 
 father is not in earnest about your paying for those 
 books, Kate," said Mrs. Ashton; " it's only just his 
 fancy of the moment." — "I know that, mother, 
 though I should be very willing to do anything 
 I could about them : but what I really care for is 
 putting Colonel Forbes out. Yet I don't think he 
 can be angry any more when 1 have explained what 
 is to be done. He won't think it a liberty though, 
 will he?" she added, becoming alarmed at her own 
 temerity. "He can't very well do that," said 
 Mrs. Ashton ; " but at any rate Mrs. Forbes will 
 help you out of your difficulty ; as for him, there
 
 234 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 is somethino^ in his mouth which I don't quite 
 fancy." — " There is something in every feature 
 which I don't," exclaimed Katharine ; "but," recol- 
 lecting herself, she added, " that is only my pre- 
 judice, though, mother. People say he is very 
 good, and I am sure Mrs. Forbes thinks him per- 
 fection." — " Wait till she has tried him for a twelve- 
 month, Kitty," said Mrs. Ashton ; and Katharine 
 thought to herself, though she did not say it, that 
 a shorter time than that would suffice for her. 
 
 She prepared for her walk to Maplestead almost 
 immediately afterwards, hoping, as she said;, to be 
 back in time for dinner, but at the same time 
 begging her mother not to wait for her. She had a 
 little district business to attend to besides, so she might 
 be detained; and dinner did not signify: the house- 
 keeper at Maplestead would be sure, she said, to give 
 her some bread and cheese. Just, however, as she 
 was going out of the door, one of the poor shoemaker's 
 children stopped her, with the intelligence that 
 "father was worse, and mother would like to see 
 her." There was no resisting such an application, 
 and Katharine hurried to Long-lane. The case was 
 one of more apparent than real danger; at least at 
 the moment. Katharine, inexperienced though she 
 was in illness, soon saw that. She could only recom- 
 mend that Mr. Fowler should be sent for; and 
 promise some strengthening broth in the course of 
 the day, though feeling in her own mind that she 
 might be rather puzzled to procure it without giving 
 her mother and the servant more trouble than she 
 liked. The Miss Eonaldsons' back door reminded 
 her that broth of some kind was generally at hand 
 in their house, and if they had it they would be sure 
 to give it willingly. She was sufficiently at home 
 now to enter by the kitchen; and she made her way 
 to the parlour, and knocked at the door. The "come
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 235 
 
 in " was not quite as instantaneous as usual. Katka- 
 rine heard smothered voices, and a little pushing 
 aside of chairs. When the door was opened she found 
 herself not only in the presence of the Miss Ronald- 
 sons, but of Charles, his mother, and Mr. Reeves. 
 It was impossible not to remark the startled yet 
 almost amused expression of each face, Charles 
 Ronaldson's only excepted. He coloured crimson, 
 caught up his hat instantly, and after waiting for 
 a few minutes and being told by Katharine that 
 Colonel and Mrs. Forbes were returned, and that 
 she was going over to Maplestead, he shook hands 
 with her, and muttering something to his aunts about 
 seeing them again before he went, hastened out of 
 the room. Mrs. Ronaldson was a gentle-looking, 
 elderly woman, with an anxious expression of coun- 
 tenance. Katharine had never seen much of her 
 before, but she was pleased now with her very kind 
 manner ; there was something of peculiar interest 
 about it, which was winning, without any attempt 
 at being so. Time was precious, but Katharine did 
 not like at once to say what she had to say, and then 
 go. It seemed necessary to ask about Miss Ronald- 
 son's pain in the chest, and Miss Priscilla's rheuma- 
 tism ; and inquiries were to be made also for Mrs. 
 Reeves ; and now that she had an opportunity of 
 speaking to Mr. Reeves, there were several parish 
 matters to be mentioned; all this kept her more 
 than twenty minutes longer than would otherwise 
 have been necessary, the broth matter having been 
 settled as soon as mentioned, and the servant dis- 
 patched with a jug containing enough not only for 
 the poor man, but for half his family besides. 
 Katharine did not at all dislike her little visit, they 
 were all so kind to her, only they were rather 
 too attentive, and would listen to every word she 
 said, Mrs. Ronaldson especially. Even Mr. Reeves
 
 236 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 had something peculiar in his manner, and cTery 
 now and then the corners of his mouth lengthened, 
 and he bit his lips as if almost unable to restrain 
 a smile. 
 
 As Katharine stood up to go every one else 
 stood up too ; and Miss Ronaldson quite grasped 
 her hand : " Good-bye, my dear ; be sure you come 
 again soon, we shall always be delighted to see you, 
 shan't we, Prissy ? " and she looked round a little 
 tremulously at her sister. " I may tell you — it's no 
 secret — do you know, my dear, our nephew Charlie 
 has had a fine situation given him?" — another 
 doubtful glance at Miss Priscilla — "given him by 
 the Duke of Lowther. Three hundred a year at 
 once, and in time may be a great deal more," said 
 Miss Priscilla, solemnly; " Yes, my dear, yes." Miss 
 Ronaldson looked much relieved at this public tes- 
 timony of Miss Priscilla's approval of the subject 
 she had chosen. " Three hundred a year at once, and 
 the last agent made the place worth six, they say. 
 It's for the Duke's estates in the north." — " A great 
 blessing for my dear boy, indeed," said Mrs. Ronald- 
 son, "only it will take him so far from his friends." 
 — " Yes, unless he can get new friends," observed Miss 
 Ronaldson. " There's nothing like family happiness, 
 is there, my dear Katharine ? " — " No, indeed," re- 
 plied Katharine ; " I do hope Mr. Ronaldson will 
 have that w^ierever he may be." — " Yes, we all hope 
 it, we hope it very much, my dear. Mr. Reeves 
 knows we hope it." Mr. Reeves smiled a very 
 odd smile, which was almost a laugh; but his voice 
 and manner were very earnest as he said, " One is 
 afraid to hope too much ; but whatever his happiness 
 may be he will deserve it, as far as a human being 
 can." Katharine thought them all very odd ; she 
 did not know whether they were going to laugh or 
 cry, but she was not inclined to do either herself,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 237 
 
 only she was very glad that Charles Eonaldson was 
 to have three hundred a year. 
 
 " Such an odd feeling it is to cliange suddenly, 
 as one does, from one set of ideas to another," 
 thought Katharine, as she stood at the hall door 
 at Maplestead. The district and the Miss Ronald- 
 sons and Charles, and his situation, were then like 
 things of a year gone by, compared with Jane and 
 the Colonel, and the spoilt volume of Racine. She 
 began to be very nervous now that the moment for 
 making her apology was so near, and to wish that 
 the Colonel might be out, and she might say what she 
 had to say to Mrs. Forbes alone ; yet it was interest- 
 ing to her to be there, she wanted to see Jane again^, 
 to accustom herself to look upon her as the mistress 
 of Maplestead, and to settle if she could the last 
 evening's impressions, which were so strange and 
 disagreeable, that she could not now thoroughly 
 divest herself of the idea that Jane was altered. 
 
 The ring at the door was answered by a tall 
 footman, and Katharine was ushered grandly up the 
 great staircase to the morning-room — a very different 
 room from that which she had left on the preceding 
 evening. No traces of boxes, or shavings, or paper ; 
 it was astonishing to think how the slow Fanny 
 must have worked, under the influence of the Colo- 
 nel's eye. And there were the bookshelves in per- 
 fect order, — only one gap on the top shelf; but that 
 was sufficient to make Katharine's heart sink a little. 
 But Jane came into the room, and everything like 
 fear was forgotten. She was looking almost beauti- 
 ful, a bright glow of pleasure tinging her pale 
 cheek, her soft eyes lighted up with the anima- 
 tion of pure happiness, and her slight and most 
 graceful figure set off to the greatest advantage by 
 the folds of her rich silk dress. Yet she was altered 
 in a way rather to be felt than described ; her step,
 
 238 KATHARIXE ASHTON. 
 
 as slie entered, was firmer, her manner more self- 
 dependent ; she was the mistress of Maplestead. 
 But she was unaltered in her simplicity, her truth, 
 and affection ; and when she made Katharine take 
 a place on the sofa beside her, and relate everything 
 that had happened since she went away, tlie 
 errand, and the apologies were forgotten, and Ka- 
 tharine talked as fast and as eagerly as if she had 
 been sitting, as in old times, with Jane Sinclair, in 
 the parlour behind the shop. It was long before 
 they reached the subject of the spoilt book, so much 
 was to be said about affairs of the poor, which con- 
 cerned them both, and so much of the aflfiiirs of 
 Katharine's family, which Jane was interested in 
 hearing ; and in the midst of the conversation, just 
 as the important point was reached, Colonel Forbes 
 came in. 
 
 It all flashed upon Katharine then in an instant ; — 
 that Jane was not the companion of her school-days, 
 the friend who gave her a share of her confidence, 
 but the wife of a man of fortune and position, des- 
 tined to move in a sphere far above her own ; and 
 it flashed upon her too that she was in disgrace, and 
 w^as come, like a naughty child, to say that she was 
 sorry. If she had not been a little cross with 
 Colonel Forbes, she might have been very much 
 embarrassed. He bowed, stiffly but politely, and 
 then addressed Jane : " I w^ant you, my love ; are 
 you ready?" — "I shall be presently; do you want 
 me very much ?" — " Stone, the gardener, is ready 
 for us," he said, with an accent of impatience. 
 Katharine felt she was in the way. " I must go," 
 she began, and she rose from her seat; but Jane made 
 her sit down again. — "You have had such a long 
 walk, Katharine, you must have something before 
 you go back. Philip, will you ring the bell ?" The 
 Colonel did as he was told, and then came back to
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 239 
 
 Jane's chair, and stood behind it, doing nothing. 
 " Just go out to Stone, and tell him your notions, and 
 then I will come to you," said Jane, looking up at 
 him. — " I can better wait for you, my love." — "Pray 
 don't let me keep you," said Katharine ; " I don't 
 want anything, I assure you, and I am not at all 
 tired. I only wished to say to Colonel Forbes," — 
 the Colonel was all polite attention, — Katharine 
 felt her colour rise most painfully, — "I am very 
 sorry, and my father is extremely vexed about the 
 book, sir." She grew bolder when she had begun, 
 and went on unhesitatingly : " My father will pro- 
 cure another copy immediately." Colonel Forbes 
 bowed. " You are not troubling yourself about 
 that unfortunate book?" interrupted Jane ; "indeed 
 it does not signify in the least, does it, Philip ? " 
 But "Philip's" face did not show any signs of 
 agreement. He merely answered, however, in a 
 constrained tone, that if she did not consider it a 
 matter of consequence, of course it was not so. 
 Jane turned round to him with one of her sweetest 
 smiles : " You were fretted because it was a 
 present to me ; but you don't imagine I value the 
 thought less ;" and she put her hand in his affec- 
 tionately. The clouded brow became smooth 
 again. 
 
 " It would please my father, and satisfy me to 
 procure another copy on our own account," said 
 Katharine; "and the one which has been injured 
 will sell very well as a second-hand book." — " Oh ! 
 no, no," exclaimed Jane; "indeed, I cant hear of 
 such a thing, when you were working so kindly 
 lor me, and the injury so very trifling as it is; 
 indeed it can't be." — " No, indeed it cannot," ob- 
 served Colonel Forbes : " I returned the book to 
 Mr. Ashton because it happened to be of no use to 
 me, being injured, and I thought he might sell it ;
 
 240 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 but I meant to have called to-day to explain the 
 matter. I had not the least idea of putting him to 
 any expense." — " It would be very trifling," per- 
 sisted Katharine, " and I should be more happy." — 
 " Excuse me, Miss Ashton, it cannot be. I think, ray 
 dear," and Colonel Forbes turned to his wife, "I think 
 that bell can scarcely have rung." — " I hear some 
 one coming," said Jane, and immediately afterwards 
 the servant entered: — "Bring luncheon for Miss 
 Ashton instantly," was the Colonel's order. " Only 
 a biscuit, if you please," said Katharine, longing to 
 get away. " But that won't be enough," exclaimed 
 Jane ; " you must liave a sandwich. Bring up 
 some sandwiches as soon as you can." — "And tell 
 Mr. Stone not to wait," said the Colonel, decidedly. 
 " Now, please not. dear Philip," exclaimed Jane, 
 trying not to speak as if she were annoyed ; " if 
 you will only go to him, and begin giving your 
 directions, 1 will be Avith you in a v^ery few 
 minutes." Colonel Forbes did not revoke his word; 
 and the servant, who had been standing with the 
 handle of the door in his hand, waiting for some 
 certain orders, went away. Jane did then look 
 grave, but not at all angry. She went on talking 
 to Katharine ; but she could not prevent herself from 
 showing, by frequent glances at her husband, that 
 her attention was distracted. Colonel Forbes 
 seated himself at a little distance from them, appa- 
 rently with a view not to disturb them, and took up 
 a book. Katharine could not talk at all now ; she 
 could not for a moment forget that he was in the 
 room, and the appearance of the sandw^iches was a 
 great relief. Yet she ate scarcely any ; certainly not 
 as many as she needed, for it was her dinner-time, 
 and she was very hungry ; but though Jane pressed 
 her, and said she had no appetite, Katharine could 
 only be pervailed upon to go through the form of
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 241 
 
 luncheon. When it was over, she fastened her bonnet, 
 took up her gloves, and was about to say good-bye, 
 when it flashed upon her that she had really made 
 no great effort about the book, which was the true 
 object of her visit. She introduced the subject 
 again ; and Jane, beginning to understand it better, 
 asked, in great surprise, whether the books had 
 actually been returned. " Oh ! yes," replied Katha- 
 rine ; " this morning ; did you not know it ? " — " I ! 
 no, indeed ; the subject was never mentioned to 
 me. Philip!" — the Colonel laid down his book, 
 and listened — "you don't want really to return 
 the Racine, do you ? — it could have been merely a 
 fancy of the moment." — " I don't know what fancies 
 of the moment are," he replied ; " when I do a 
 thing for once I do it for always." — " But it seems — 
 indeed, I think you are too fanciful. Why should 
 not the book do perfectly well for me ?" — " I wish 
 to have everything about my wife perfect," he 
 replied. Jane said nothing more. Colonel Forbes 
 saw that Katharine was vexed, and strove to assure 
 her by the most polite phrases that the affair was 
 a matter of indifference to him, as he could easily 
 procure another copy ; but Katharine could see 
 underneath the surface that it was a sore subject. 
 She was anxious now to go, feeling every moment 
 more uncomfortable. Jane went with her down- 
 stairs, and they stood together, talking, for a few 
 seconds in the hall. Jane's last words were : " I am 
 afraid I must leave my district to you entirely, 
 Katharine, for another fortnight or three weeks, at 
 least ; I shall be so incessantly engaged, and you 
 know I cannot leave Colonel Forbes." No : Katha- 
 rine had never felt that necessity so strongly before. 
 " I will settle, as soon as I possibly can, what share 
 I can take in the work ; but I must first see what 
 
 VOL. L R
 
 242 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 he wants me to do at home." Certainly a most 
 wife-like, submissive idea. 
 
 Katharine had no fault to find with it ; but — was 
 Jane going to be happy ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A QUESTION for time to decide. But Katharine 
 was by nature very impatient. She could not 
 bear, and she had as yet scarcely learnt that she 
 ought to try to bear, suspense, either for herself or 
 for those she loved. She thought about Jane's 
 prospects all the way home, and put herself, in ima- 
 gination, in the same situation, and in a great many 
 other situations, some extremely improbable, and 
 none of them, perhaps, such as were likely to befal 
 Jane ; but they were, in Katharine's mind, different 
 phases of married life, and this day she did not 
 feel as she had done when at Moorlands she envied 
 John and Selina. On the contrary, her own lot — 
 its freedom and independence — stood out in bril- 
 liant light, compared with what she felt would be 
 the irksomeness of such a perpetual restraint as 
 that to which Jane submitted so willingly. Love I 
 that, of course, made the difference. Jane loved 
 her husband, and therefore could bear anything 
 from him. But it was very strange that she should 
 love him,— very strange that she did not see, as 
 Katharine saw, that whether Colonel Forbes fol- 
 lowed her wishes or opposed them, petted or 
 thwarted her, it was simply and solely for himself — 
 that his affection for her was but another form of 
 self-love. It was rather frightening to a person 
 looking calmly on, to see how another might be
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 243 
 
 deceived, and that other not a silly, frivolous, vain 
 girl, but a sensible, single-hearted, devoted woman. 
 Katharine never felt more anti-raatrimonially dis- 
 posed in her life. She was very much tempted to 
 go home and talk it all over with her mother ; but 
 that would be wrong — it would be exciting suspi- 
 cion, almost betraying confidence — so she resolved 
 not to touch upon the subject, or say one word 
 about her visit beyond what was absolutely neces- 
 sary, lest she should be led on further than she 
 intended. Katharine's conscientiousness helped her 
 there ; she had learnt from it to keep at a safe 
 distance from that which might be even the lightest 
 form of known evil. 
 
 Yet it was a considerable comfort to her to find, 
 when she reached home, that she was out of the 
 temptation of saying incautious words just at the 
 moment when her thoughts and her heart were 
 full. Her mother was gone over to Moorlands 
 with Mrs. Fowler, to prepare for John and Selina's 
 reception, early in the next week, and her father 
 was busy in the shop. She took off her things, 
 and sat down to work, liking the rest and quietness 
 very much, and still with an inward self-congra- 
 tulation that there was no Colonel Forbes to insist 
 upon her going out when she wished to stay in, or 
 to stay in when she desired to go out. That back 
 parlour was a very still, pleasant room ; none of the 
 street noises could be heard in it, and Katharine 
 took no notice of the murmur of voices in the 
 shop. She did not even hear a bell ring, so deep 
 was her reverie ; and twice there was a knock at 
 the parlour-door before, tliinking it was the servant, 
 she said " Come in." The door Avas opened 
 quietly, and with some doubt even ; but it was a 
 man's step which made Katharine look up from her 
 work, and smila and exclaim, " Oh I Mr. Konald- 
 B 2
 
 244 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 
 
 son, is it you ? How you startled me !" It might 
 have been thought that she had startled him, he 
 looked so very ill, so deadly pale. Katharine 
 noticed it, but she did not quite like to ask him 
 what was the matter ; and he seated himself, and she 
 went on with her work. '' Mrs. Ashton is gone 
 over to Moorlands, I think?" he began. — "Yes, 
 with IMrs. Fowler. John and Selina are to be at 
 home rather earlier than they intended, so there is 
 a good deal to be done." — " Yes, of course ; I 
 thought you might have waited at Maplestead, and 
 returned with them." — " I did not know they were 
 to be at Moorlands, or I should have gone there to 
 meet them," said Katharine ; " it would have been 
 better driving home than having that long walk." 
 — " Along the dusty road ? yes." — " But it is not 
 at all dusty," exclaimed Katharine, laughing ; 
 " you forget the rain we have had lately." — " Oh I 
 yes, I did forget. Did you find Colonel and Mrs. 
 Forbes at Maplestead ? " Katharine could with 
 the greatest difficulty keep her countenance ; it 
 seemed such an absurd question after their morn- 
 ing meeting. " I thought," she said, " tliat I 
 told you I was going over on business to them, 
 when I saw you at your aunts' this morninoj." — 
 " Did you ? I think I remember. Yes, I do re- 
 member, now. Did you stay long with my aunts 
 after I left you ?" — " Longer than I intended," said 
 Katharine ; " but there is always so much to say to 
 them, and I was so glad to meet Mrs. Eonaldson 
 there too : it is very seldom we have the pleasure 
 of seeing her." — " No ; she goes out very little, not 
 so much as she should. But — I suppose my aunts 
 did not tell you — • that " — he hesitated, and his old 
 shy manner returned so painfully, that Katharine 
 felt herself bound, in charity, to assist him. " They 
 told me that we were soon to lose you entirely as
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 245 
 
 a Rilwortli person, Mr. Ronaldson. Your friends 
 will be very sorry ; but they cannot selfishly wish 
 it otherwise, since the change is to be so much for 
 your advantage." — "My friends !"he repeated, in a 
 tremulous voice ; " I can scarcely flatter myself that 
 I have many." — " But those you have — ourselves, 
 for instance, — lam sure we shall miss you very 
 much, Mr. Ronaldson." He looked up quickly, 
 then bent his eyes again upon the ground. Katha- 
 rine was working steadily and diligently, as if all 
 her interest in life was centred in her mother's 
 new apron^ which she was hemming. " I may be 
 alone," he replied ; " my mother talks of remaining 
 with my aunts." Katharine looked very much sur- 
 prised. " It is a long distance for her to travel," 
 he continued ; " and I may be obliged to move again 
 before long : the Duke may wish it. My mother 
 is too old to bear the change, unless it is absolutely 
 necessary. Mr. Reeves, too, considers it will be 
 best, at least for a short time, till I am permanently 
 fixed." — " Your mother will join you," said Katha- 
 rine, in a tone of compassion ; "she will never leave 
 you by yourself." He tried to smile, but it was 
 an effort. " I am very sorry for you," said Katha- 
 rine, gently. — " Are you really sorry, Miss Ash- 
 ton ? it would be an unspeakable comfort to 
 think so." Something in this speech made Katha- 
 rine's cheek burn, and her heart beat quick and 
 faint. She was very angry with herself, and the 
 needle went faster than ever. A reply was waited 
 for, and she was obliged to speak. " It would be 
 very strange and unkind of me if I were not to feel 
 for you, Mr. Ronaldson, when you have been with 
 us so much lately, and have been such a help to 
 us. I don't know what my father would have done 
 without you." — " I am very glad to have been of 
 use to Mr. Ashton. I should have been more glad 
 
 K 3
 
 246 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 to have been of use to you, Miss Ashton." Katha- 
 rine could not answer then ; her heart grew sick 
 with a conviction of the truth, to which she had 
 shut her eyes. Oh ! if she couhl but stop him ! 
 
 But it was too late. He walked to the window, 
 and stood for one second silent ; then returning to 
 Katharine, he said, with that stern self-command 
 which knows that the very least weakness will 
 be ruin : " Miss Ashton, you once told me that 
 if I had anything to say to you, I might say it 
 plainly, without reserve. I am going to leave Ril- 
 v/orth, to form a new home ; it will be no home to 
 
 me, unless" he took her hand eagerly, and his 
 
 voice sank almost to a whisper, as he added, 
 "Would you, could you share it with me?" Ka- 
 tharine withdrew her hand, and her cheek became 
 perfectly colourless. She turned away, and tears 
 rushed to her eyes. " Oh ! Mr. Ronaldson," she 
 exclaimed, "why did you ask?" — "Because life's 
 happiness depends on the answer," was the reply. 
 Katharine leant her head upon her hands : her 
 whole frame trembled with agitation. How many, 
 many thoughts, hopes, dreams of happiness, rushed 
 as a torrent through her mind ! Yet she looked 
 up again, and answered firmly : " Do not be angry 
 with me ; it cannot be." He leant for support 
 against a chair, but he did not speak. "I could 
 not be untrue," continued Katharine, gathering 
 courage ; "I could not feign feelings which I have 
 not." — "Feign! no: Heaven forbid ! but, oh! Miss 
 Ashton" — and his voice became broken and hollow — 
 " is it quite ? — are you so very sure?" — "Very sure,'' 
 interrupted Katharine ; " very certain, that ibr 
 your happiness and for mine, the subject must 
 never be mentioned again." He seemed as if he 
 scarcely understood her meaning ; his eyes were 
 lixed, his lips blanched. " It would be so wrong
 
 KATHAEINE ASIITON. 247 
 
 to deceive you," continued Katharine; "it is so 
 much better to say the whole truth at once." — 
 " Yes ; better, indeed, if — but Katharine — let me 
 call you Katharine this once," — and as he turned 
 aside his head, Katharine saw a tear roll slowly 
 down his cheek, — " to have cherished a hope for 
 months and months ; to have thought of it at first 
 as a vague dream for the end of life ; to have had 
 it fostered and, nurtured ; — unconsciously indeed, — 
 I feel, I know noAV that it was unconsciously, — but 
 still to have had it nurtured; and suddenly, at the 
 very moment when the power of realising it is 
 put within my reach, and all whom I best love and 
 honour sanction my choice, to feel that it is a 
 delusion— a nothing, — that life must henceforth be 
 a dark, lonely journey !" — " Not dark and lonely, I 
 trust," interrupted Katharine, kindly ; "you will find 
 some other far better than I am, far more deserving 
 of your affection." — "Thank you," he replied, with 
 a pained look, which went like a dagger to Katha- 
 rine's heart. — "It is very cold in me — very unkind; 
 I feel it is," she exclaimed ; " but, Mr Ronaldson, 
 would it not be more unkind to mislead you ? 
 Must it not be infinitely better to endure any 
 suffering now, than to wake up, when it Avould be 
 too late, to the knowledge that one had made a 
 mistake?" — "That could never be with me," he 
 said quietly. — " Forgive me," replied Katharine, " if 
 your affection were not returned, it must be, and" 
 — " You would never be able to return it," he 
 added. Again a tear gathered in his eye, and 
 was kept back only by the effort of his strong 
 will. Katharine's heart smote her. So good, so 
 clever, so superior in education and principle, why 
 could she not love him ? For one instant she 
 thought of herself as his wife, — home, friends, as- 
 sociations, all gone from her, — his wife ! no one 
 u 4
 
 248 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 besides to look to, to lean upon, — and her heart 
 sank. It was a sufficient answer to satisfy her 
 conscience. " Mr. Ronaldson," she said, " if any 
 pain which I could bear would save you pain, I 
 would take it thankfully ; whatever it might be, it 
 seems that it would be less than what I now feel ; but 
 the sorrow you may endure at this moment will 
 pass — the sorrow which you would have to endure 
 if, feeling as I do, I were to consent to be your 
 wife, would never pass." — " Not if it were impos- 
 sible for you to change," he replied ; " but there 
 have been, — I have heard of such cases myself, — I 
 have known persons whose feelings were as nothing 
 at the beginning, yet who have been won by devo- 
 tion — long, lingering, steadfast devotion ; and, Ka- 
 tharine, were it to be at the price of the labour of 
 my life, were it to be only the reward of my death- 
 bed, the happiness of knowing you were mine 
 would be cheaply purchased." 
 
 '' If I could be yours in heart," said Katharine, 
 thoughtfully. He read something of hope in her 
 manner ; he heard, or fancied he heard it in her 
 tone ; and earnestly, beseechingly, he implored her 
 to give him but the trial, to suffer him to write to 
 her, to think of her, to leave her free as air, but 
 to consider himself bound, as indeed he ever must 
 be. It would be the support, the guiding star of 
 his life. And Katharine listened, and trembled, and 
 felt weak, oh! very, very weak — so weak that, if a 
 clergyman had been at hand, she would almost 
 have consented to marry him on the spot, to save 
 herself the pain of refusing ; but the same vision 
 of home given up for him came before her again, 
 and, tenified at the influence which compassion, she 
 felt, was beginning to exercise over her judgment, 
 she turned shudderingly from him, and entreated 
 him to leave her.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 249 
 
 Her manner was such, then, as to admit of no 
 hope. " It is enough," he replied ; and something 
 of a man's wounded pride at being rejected min- 
 gled with the tone in which he spoke : " I will 
 never intrude the subject upon you a second time." 
 — " We part friends, Mr. Ronaldson," said Katha- 
 rine, giving him her hand. He took it, and 
 pressed it to his lips : " We shall not meet again, 
 Katharine. Pardon me — Miss Ashton always from 
 henceforth." A wintry smile curled his lips ; he 
 could scarcely add, " God bless you." Katharine 
 pressed his hand warmly, but she could not trust 
 herself to reply ; and when the door closed behind 
 liim, she rushed to her chamber, and, kneeling by 
 her bedside, burst into an agony of tears. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Five years have passed. There is a change in 
 Rilworth — a change in its inhabitants: old houses 
 have been taken down, new ones have been built ; 
 the market-place has been enlarged ; the Mechanics' 
 Institution removed from Corn-street into High- 
 Street ; Mr. Andrews, the retired auctioneer, is 
 dead, and Mr. George Andrews is said to have 
 greatly increased his fortune by entering into some 
 extensive manufacturing speculations, consistent 
 with his anxious desire to live at the same time as 
 a private gentleman. Mr. Lane, too, is dead, and 
 Mr. George Lane, his son, has succeeded him 
 in his business. The Miss Lanes and their mamma, 
 have a small cottage, about half a mile from the 
 town, and may be seen every day walking up and 
 down the raised foot-patli on the London-road,
 
 250 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 with their friend, Miss Andrews. Mr. Madden 
 has met with great misfortunes, and the family 
 pride is so reduced that Mr. Henry Madden has 
 entered Mr. Ashton's shop in the hope of one day 
 being his partner. Mr. Dobson has prospered so 
 much that his little china shop has become a repo- 
 sitory for Bohemian glass and ornamental china. 
 Mr. Carter, too, has contrived to metamorphose his 
 long dark passage, between narrow counters, into 
 a splendid show-room, hung with shawls magnifi- 
 cent in hue and soft in texture, mantillas tempting 
 to every taste, ribbons of all the colours of the rain- 
 bow, and silks which a queen might envy. Miss Dyer 
 has enlarged her business in the lace department, 
 and hangs white veils, and berthes, and polkas, upon 
 tall stands in the downstair apartment ; whilst Mr. 
 Green, the jeweller, has attached a fancy bazaar 
 to his former insignificant business, and sells useless 
 fineries, and charitable luxuries, at as dear a rate 
 as any monopolist in a half-fledged watering 
 place. 
 
 And there are changes less seen, less thought of ; 
 it may be, in the eyes of many, less important. 
 Poverty, and sorrow, and sickness, have done their 
 work in the back streets and the dark courts and 
 alleys of Rilworth. Vagabond boys have ripened 
 into early profligates ; girlish vanity and the con- 
 stant sight of evil have tainted to the very heart's core 
 those whose childhood promised innocence ; mothers' 
 hearts have sickened, and their strength has failed 
 under the burden of the daily calls for help which 
 they could not give ; fathers have grown reckless, 
 or given themselves up to moody apathy, because 
 in their youth they had never been taught upon 
 Whom to cast their care ; and souls have departed 
 from this world to carry the account of their 
 stewardship before their God, and to learn what
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 251 
 
 before they never would believe, that " God shall 
 bring every work into judgment, with every secret 
 thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil." 
 It is a sad view, but a true one. There is another 
 brighter, and not less true. Evil meets us upon 
 the surface, goodness instinctively shrinks from 
 display. 
 
 There has been much good in Rilworth during 
 these last five years. No parish could be under 
 the influence of a man, sensible, hard-working, de- 
 voted as Mr. Reeves, and not derive good from it. 
 He might not be faultless ; his manner might be 
 quick, his temper inclined to impatience, his ser- 
 mons might not be exciting, his plans not always 
 formed in perfect wisdom ; but he was earnest, 
 sincerely earnest, in thought, and word, and action : 
 and when nil other powers have been tried, and 
 failed, it will be found that earnestness is the ful- 
 crum upon which to rest the moral lever that is 
 to raise the world. 
 
 And so there are comforting spots in Rilworth, 
 even in those back streets and crowded alleys. 
 There are sufferers lingering in mortal disease, yet 
 uttering no word of repining ; children practising 
 at home the lessons which care and love have taught 
 them at school. There are grateful hearts and grate- 
 fill prayers for the kindness which, winter after 
 Avinter, has provided protection against the incle- 
 mency of the weather. There are struggles against 
 temptation endured bravely, and ending victori- 
 ously, because the clergyman's warning has been 
 given, and his words, through the mercy of God, 
 have sunk deep into the memory, and been recalled 
 in the hour of trial. And there are many, various 
 in age, and differing in degree, working, under 
 regular guidance, with a common motive, a com- 
 mon hope, even that they may one day listen re-
 
 252 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 joicingly to the words, Come, ye blessed children of 
 my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you 
 from the foundation of the world. 
 
 One there is to be seen almost daily, walking 
 slowly and thoughtfully by the respectable houses 
 in TVoodgate-street, threading the intricacies of 
 Briton's-court, looking anxiously at the dingy 
 cottages in Long-lane. She knows every child by 
 name ; she has a word for every bustling woman, 
 or sickly girl ; her knock is answered almost 
 before it can be heard, for many are looking out 
 for her, to give them a word of comfort or advice ; 
 and few indeed there are who would repel her even 
 with a cold answer, none who would treat her even 
 with a word of incivility. Five years ago Katha- 
 rine Ashton's cheek was bright with the first 
 vividness of youth and hope : there is a slight 
 deadness upon it now. The colour is softened and 
 less changing ; the eye is still very quick, but the 
 words are uttered less rapidly. She laughs cheer- 
 fully when there is a cause, but she has lost the 
 childish lightness of heart which could laugh at 
 seeming nothings. She w^as never, strictly speak- 
 ing, pretty; but youthful spirits, and kindliness, and 
 intelligence, often made her attractive ; and she is 
 attractive still, though in a different way. The 
 gleam of thoughtfulness, which once came fitfully 
 over her mind, has become its settled inhabitant. 
 She has learnt something from reading, much from 
 observation, more from the teaching of her own 
 experience. Life is a mystery ; but she holds in 
 her hand the key that is to solve it ; for the balance 
 between earth and heaven, once decided by duty, 
 is now weighed down by love ; — and power, and 
 energy, and affections, are devoted where they can 
 never be devoted in vain. 
 
 We will look at her whilst she sits, as in the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 253 
 
 old times, at the breakfast-table, in the back 
 parlour, with her father and mother. Veiy little 
 changed that parlour is ; there are the old curtains, 
 the old carpet, the old book-case, the same table 
 with the blue and white breakfast-set, the same old- 
 fashioned milk-juf^, and grotesque sugar-tongs. 
 The carpet, indeed, is faded, but it has been covered 
 with a drugget of nearly the same colour, so that 
 the difference is not remarked ; and, though Mrs. 
 Ashton says that the leathern arm-chair in which 
 her husband sleeps so comfortably every evening, is 
 nearly worn into holes by the constant pressure 
 of his head and the rubbing of his elbows, yet there 
 is no talk of purchasing another, for Katharine has 
 spent some leisure moments in knitting a covering 
 for it, and Mr. Ashton declares in consequence that 
 it will serve his purpose for twenty years to come. 
 He is fond of that expression ; perhaps it strengthens 
 him against a secret misgiving, and makes him feel 
 more sure that he really has twenty years more 
 of life to come. Why should he not have? His 
 intellect is clear, his step steady, liis pulse 
 regular, his appetite good. He has passed but 
 fifty-seven years in the world, and the men of this 
 generation are often known to live far beyond the 
 three score years and ten of the Psalmist. Mrs. 
 Ashton is perhaps more altered than her husband. 
 Her hair has become very grey, und that makes a 
 great change in a woman. " Old Mrs. Ashton," she 
 is sometimes called. That may be only in contra- 
 distinction to her gay daughter-in-law ; but it 
 may be also, for the term is sometimes used by 
 strangers, because she is really looking old, anx- 
 ious, less able to cope with the difficulties of life. 
 But all these are outward changes : they are of 
 very little consequence. Katharine could not smile 
 SO pleasantly, and talk so unreservedly and happily,
 
 254 KATHARINE ASHTON, 
 
 if all were as it once was within. The eager- 
 ness of youth, and the steady purpose of age, can- 
 not, indeed, meet on all points ; but Katharine has 
 much more sympathy now on the subjects nearest 
 her heart than she ever had before ; and if ]\Ir. 
 Ashton cannot entirely give up his suspicions of 
 district societies, and Mrs. Ashton cannot always 
 see why Katharine should care nothing for amuse- 
 ment, like other young persons of her age, they are 
 both in heart conscious that there is very much in the 
 past for which to lament, and are desirous, heartily 
 desirous, as far as in them lies, to place their 
 influence in the scale of good. 
 
 "Mother," said Katharine — she might have made 
 precisely the same speech, in precisely the same tone, 
 five years before — " shall you and I go over to 
 Moorlands this afternoon? " — "Well, I don't know, 
 Kitty ; I hadn't thought about it." — " Selly might 
 be glad to have us, for little Clara is fretful with 
 cutting her teeth, and the baby keeps her awake 
 at night." — "And Master Johnnie takes advantage 
 of nurse being engaged, to set up a commotion in 
 the nursery, I'll venture to say," added Mr. Ashton. 
 "What a fellow that is for spirit!" — "Rather too 
 much so," observed Katharine ; " he wears Selina 
 out." — "Because she is such a bad manager, my 
 dear," replied Mrs. Ashton. — " I can't think what 
 she is to do when those children grow up, if they 
 are so unmanageable now they are young." — " Thev 
 will go to school and be flogged into obedience," said 
 Mr. Ashton ; " that is the only thing to be done 
 with them. But, wife, if you go over to Moor- 
 lands, what am I to do?" — "Drive over in the 
 chaise at six o'clock, and you will be there just in 
 time for tea," said Mrs. Ashton. — " And leave all 
 my affairs to young Madden ? " said Mr. Ashton ; 
 " one good thing is, he has a capital head for
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 255 
 
 figures." — " Oh ! yes," said Katharine, " he will do 
 quite well; and the hope of being partner some day 
 will be sure to make him attentive." — "That is a 
 long day to come, though," said Mr. Ashton, with an 
 air of consideration ; " but certainly, if he is ever to 
 do anything by himself, he must begin practising. 
 So you think, Kitty, I may dispense with the shop 
 for this evening, and find my way over to Moor- 
 lands ? " — " Certainly," said Katharine, smiling ; 
 " there is nothing to hinder you, and I think, some- 
 how, father, that Moorlands wants you even more 
 than the shop." — " Maybe," replied Mr. Ashton, 
 and a shade passed over his face, and he was silent 
 for an instant. Then he added abruptly : " Has 
 John heard from Charlie Ronaldson, do you know ?" 
 — " I don't think he has," replied Katharine ; " he 
 wants to hear dreadfully." — Mr. Ashton rose up 
 from the breakfast-table, and went to the door of 
 the shop. " Wife," he said, turning round, " tell 
 John he mustn't conclude that bargain for the new 
 threshing-machine till Ronaldson writes." — " Very 
 well," was the reply ; but Mrs. Ashton had noticed 
 that all was not "very well," and she remarked it 
 to Katharine when the door was shut. — " I wish, 
 Kate," she said, " that Charlie could find time to 
 run down. He has never been here once since he 
 went away, in spite of all the interest he seems to 
 take in Moorlands. It would be twenty times 
 better than writing. He would see into the state 
 of aifairs at once, and I don't think your father 
 quite understands it." — " No," said Katharine, " I 
 don't think he does ; but, mother, I shouldn't like to 
 be the person to tell him so." — " It was always his 
 fancy — farming," continued Mrs.Ashton: "I thought 
 how it would be when Moorlands was taken ; yet 
 it has been a wonder to me for the last twelve- 
 month that he should allow John to go on with it.
 
 256 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 But I suppose Selly's at the bottom of it, she won't 
 think of leaving the place." — " Perhaps so," was 
 Katharine's reply ; she did not trust herself to speak 
 of Selina. — " And if Charlie Ronaldson could but 
 come here," continued Mrs. Ashton, "he would give 
 your father good advice, and he and John both 
 would listen to him. I do wish he would come ; 
 but there is no chance of that, I suppose, till after 
 he's married. Mrs. Ashton sighed. Katharine 
 knew the sigh, and its meaning. She kissed her 
 mother, and almost immediately afterwards left the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Yes, Mrs. Ashton ?ighed now. She had not sighed 
 five years before, when Katharine told her that she 
 had refused to be the wife of Charles Ronaldson. 
 Katharine was very young then, and life was 
 bright, and Northumberland was far off, and three 
 hundred a-year was nothing so very wonderfully 
 tempting in the way of income. There might be 
 many more advantageous offers for Katharine, and 
 she might settle near Rilworth, as John had done ; 
 so Mrs. Ashton was very kind and contented, and 
 persuaded her husband that Katharine must know 
 her own mind best, and that there were other per- 
 sons in the world quite as good and with even 
 better prospects than young Ronaldson ; and Mr. 
 Ashton, also in his good humour and good-nature, 
 took the affiir very quietly, and was only thankful 
 that his Kitty was not going away from him to 
 settle in the wilds, as he considered them, of a 
 northern county.
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 257 
 
 But times were changed since then ; Katharine 
 was five years older, and though she had had several 
 other offers, none had approved themselves, either to 
 herself or her parents; and business affairs were not 
 as satisfactory as they had been, for John schemed 
 and speculated at Moorlands, and made his father 
 pay for the speculations. Selina, too, received very 
 little help from her own family, and came upon 
 Mr. Ashton for endless expenses — doctor's bills, 
 children's dresses, things which she said, and said 
 truly, it was impossible to do without, only, as Ka- 
 tharine sometimes thought to herself, if Selina would 
 but keep from expenses which were avoidable she 
 would never be distressed for those which were 
 unavoidable. 
 
 But be this as it may, expenses certainly did 
 increase, and money to meet them did not, and Mrs. 
 Ashton cast many an anxious look to the future, 
 not for herself but for her children ; and when she 
 heard that Charles Ronaldson was doing well in the 
 north, making an income not of three but of five 
 hundred a year, and that his mother, who had gone 
 to live with him, had a pretty home, and every 
 comfort and even luxury of life about her, and was 
 known to have but one wish, that her son should be 
 happily married, it is not strange that she should 
 sigh, and, forgetting what her own personal loss 
 would have been, think, with something like cross 
 regret, that if Katharine had chosen it, all this might 
 have been her own. 
 
 But Mrs. Ashton's sighs were not the important 
 matter. Did Katharine sigh likewise? Human 
 nature is very perverse ; that which we reject when 
 within our reach is often lamented as a loss when 
 we have cast it from us. Yet this would not be 
 a true description of Katharine's feelings. She 
 did not regret or lament at all at first, except on 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 Charles Ronaldson's account ; she had done what she 
 believed to be right and honest-minded — she had no 
 feeling for him beyond that of respect, and she had 
 no idea that she could ever change. If she had allowed 
 him to write to her, to visit her, to pay her the atten- 
 tions which he w^ould have desired, even while leaving 
 her nominally free, he must have been encouraged 
 to hope, and Katharine at the time had no hope. 
 The more she had seen of him the more she had 
 learned to be afraid of him ; she could not talk freely 
 and happily to him, his mind seemed so much beyond 
 hers ; it was only by a mental strain that she could 
 reach up to him ; and the thought of this continued 
 effort for life, toher, whohadbeen free as airin thought 
 and word, and almost in action, was unendurable. 
 
 But a mind like Katharine's grows very rapidly, 
 especially when there is a daily labour of self- 
 cultivation. At nineteen she did not understand 
 Charles Ronaldson ; she liked him very much, she 
 thought him very superior, but at the same time 
 extremely alarming. She was pleased to hear 
 others talk to him, but she never wished to talk 
 herself. At four-and-twenty she felt that if she 
 could see him she could say things to him which 
 she could not say to any other person ; — that was, 
 always supposing he was unchanged, and this there 
 was little reason to doubt. His kindness of heart 
 certainly was as great as ever. Even though living 
 at such a distance, he was John's chief adviser and 
 help, and his sympathy with all their family trials 
 was apparently increased. Katharine often felt 
 that if he were at hand to be consulted by word, as 
 well as by letter, she should have little fear of any 
 blunders being committed by either John or her 
 father. She had learned to look upon him as 
 their great stay, for she found that whenever his 
 opinion was set aside disaster was sure to follow ;
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 259 
 
 yet still it would not be true to say that even now 
 she repented the decision which had separated them. 
 It was impossible to regret that which at the 
 moment had been right. Neither did her thoughts 
 turn to him with anything like affection. She would 
 have been well pleased to hear that he was married 
 to another — at least she said so to herself, when- 
 ever his prospects were talked of; and if the shadow 
 of a contrary feeling crossed her mind, it was only 
 a shadow, a something which she did not realise to 
 herself, it was so slight, and so transient. 
 
 And so Katharine did not echo her mother's sigh 
 now, save for her mother's sake. The news that 
 Charles Ronaldson was to be married had reached 
 them only a few days before. It was a report 
 brought by Mr. Henry Madden, from London. How 
 it reached London no one knew, and the event was 
 so probable, that no one thought of inquiring. The 
 lady was said to be rich and young, and her name 
 was Smith. That opened a wide field for conjecture. 
 The Miss Ronaldsons professed to know nothing 
 about the matter for certain, though they had heard 
 there was a Miss Smith living in their nephew's 
 neighbourhood ; but they were old ladies who were 
 supposed to have learned, by the experience of up- 
 wards of sixty years, to keep their own counsel ; and 
 so it was an acknowledged fact at Rilworth that 
 Miss Smith was to be Mrs. Ronaldson. 
 
 But Katharine did sigh, though not for Charles 
 Ronaldson. She thought of John, and Selina, 
 and the wilful little Clara, and the unmanageable 
 Johnnie, and the fretful, sickly, tiny baby, who 
 seemed almost smothered by his grand name of 
 Constantine. The evils which she had dreaded 
 in the far distance seemed coming very near. 
 John was sanguine of ultimate success, and Mr. 
 Ashton was very unwilling to acknowledge that
 
 260 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 the farming scheme was a failure ; and when things 
 went wrong, Katharine was always told that the 
 season had been bad, or that political causes had 
 burdened the agricultural interest ; but politics and 
 the seasons influenced other farmers likewise, and 
 yet they were not like John, always behindhand 
 with their rent, always wanting ready money for 
 present outlay. She could do no good by fears and 
 complaints, so she said nothing ; and, true to her 
 principles of usefulness, only tried to better the 
 condition of the family by her own care and dili- 
 gence. But a visit to Moorlands was never a 
 pleasant prospect. Selina was dependent upon her 
 in various ways, and therefore, for her own sake, 
 was tolerably kind ; and John, beginning to feel the 
 value of his sister as his opinion of his wife de- 
 creased, always gave her a hearty welcome ; but 
 it was no holiday to Katharine to be there. She 
 was generally engaged in the morning in helping to 
 settle John's accounts, and hearing all his troubles, 
 and giving him what advice she could to help him in 
 his difficulties ; and in the afternoon Selina took 
 advantage of her being there to leave the children 
 to her care, whilst she drove into Rilworth to pay 
 gossiping visits ; and in the evening there were 
 baskets-full of children's clothes to be looked over and 
 mended, and Katharine worked diligently at darning 
 and stitching till ten o'clock, whilst Selina generally 
 spent her time at the manufacture of some new piece 
 of finery, and John fell asleep in his arm-chair. 
 
 And what was to be the end of all this ? Katha- 
 rine was learning not to ask or think, but to suffer 
 herself to be led on day by day, looking only at the 
 step before her. Yet sometimes, and so it happened 
 on this day, the mist over the future seemed to float 
 away, and show only greater gloom beyond. 
 
 She prepared to walk over to Moorlands after
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 261 
 
 packing up several little useful things to be 
 brought over by Mr. Ashton in the chaise in the 
 afternoon. The chaise was one of the luxuries 
 consequent upon Moorlands ; Mr. Ashton had felt 
 himself obliged to have one as soon as his son lived 
 in the country. Mrs. Ashton talked of remaining 
 at Moorlands for a day or two, and Katharine 
 knew that she would probably be expected to do 
 the same. They could not live at John's expense ; 
 so their own larder was emptied, and a ham, a new 
 cheese, and some jam and marmalade for the child- 
 ren, were put aside, and half-a-dozen bottles of wine 
 taken out of the cellar — not that it was supposed 
 that Mrs. Ashton and Katharine would eat and 
 drink to the same amount, but it was helping poor 
 John ; and upon this principle the Moorlands visits 
 were always carried on in a lavish scale. Katha- 
 rine would have had no objection to this, but that 
 similar generosity was never shown by any of Mr. 
 Fowler's family, who, on the contrary, were gene- 
 rally invited to dine immediately afterwards, and 
 entertained at Mr. Ashton's cost. 
 
 " If it was for any good !" thought Katharine to 
 herself, whilst searching in the cellar for a bottle 
 of choice port wine, which Mr. Ashton had par- 
 ticularly begged might be sent over; "but it will 
 not save them in the least. There will be a great 
 dinner given after we are gone, and the port wine 
 will be drunk by Mr. Fowler and George Andrews. 
 Oh! the marriage!" — an ejaculation which was 
 perpetually rising in her mind, though it never 
 escaped her lips. 
 
 " I am ready, Kitty, my dear," called out Mrs. 
 Ashton from the head of the stairs, whilst Ka- 
 tharine was still in the cellar. "Coining, mother, 
 directly. Susan, where's the wine basket ? Mind 
 jou don't forget to keep it in a cool place, and to 
 s 3
 
 262 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 put it in the chaise by-and-bye, and the ham ; it 
 ought to be taking coals to Newcastle," she added 
 to herself; " but that's not the case, unfortunately." 
 Mrs. Ashton came down the stairs. " I have been 
 thinking, Kate, that that striped gingham of yours 
 would cut up very well into frocks for Clara and 
 baby. Wouldn't it be a good opportunity of taking 
 it over and helping to make them?" — " Yes, if they 
 are to have it, mother," said Katharine, laughing ; 
 " but I had not quite made up my mind to part 
 with it." — " Oh ! nonsense, child ; the dress is as 
 old as the hills, and Selly said only on Saturday, 
 when she was here, what a bill she was running 
 up at Carter's for the children ; it would save her 
 a world of trouble and expense." — " But if I am 
 obliged to have a new dress to replace it, there 
 won't be much saving," said Katharine. — " Not to 
 you, child, but to poor John ; and you know he 
 wants it so much, and your father will be sure to 
 give you half-a-dozen new dresses if you ask him." 
 — " The poor little things are welcome enough to 
 the old gingham, I am sure," said Katharine ; 
 "but, mother, I don't think it is a good plan to let 
 Selly feel that she has only to mention a thing and 
 she has it ; and her own fiimily ought to do some- 
 thing for her, they don't really help at all." — " It 
 is not for Selly, it's for poor John," said Mrs. 
 Ashton ; " he is so pressed for money just now ; 
 and he will be in a fever if he finds a long bill 
 from Carter's coming in for the children's clothes." 
 — " One might as well buy them new frocks," said 
 Katharine ; " it would be as cheap." But Mrs. 
 Ashton exclaimed vehemently, " Buy new dresses ! 
 no ! that would be an extravagance. A cast-off 
 dress like the striped gingham is all very well; 
 but if we are to be always buying new dresses 
 for the children, we shall be ruined." Katharine
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 263 
 
 considered for a moment whether it were worth 
 while to debate the point, and having made up her 
 mind that it would be practicable to give up the 
 dress to the children and do without a new one 
 herself, she brought it down and put it with the 
 other valuables which were to be taken over to 
 Moorlands in the chaise. Mrs. Ashton was satis- 
 fied then ; and having twice looked round the larder 
 to see that there was nothing else which could be 
 spared, set off for her walk. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 It was a very hot, dusty day. Katharine had 
 seldom been so tired; and by the time they reached 
 Moorlands she had a very bad headache. They 
 arrived just at dinner-time. Selina was standing 
 in the porch looking out for the chance of visitors. 
 She was handsome still, but it was a beauty which 
 had lost every real charm. Her complexion was 
 faded, and she had grown stout and coarse-looking; 
 and her showy gown, and the cap with artificial 
 flowers, at one o'clock in the day, gave Katharine a 
 shock as she came in sight of her, though she had 
 long been accustomed to see the same thing. "How 
 d'ye do, my dear ?" said Mrs. Ashton, kissing her ; 
 "how's John? and where are the children?" — 
 " John is about somewhere, I believe," said Selina, 
 carelessly ; " and tiie children, I hope, are asleep ; 
 they have been rioting in the drawing-room till 
 they are tired out." — "Then I hope Clara is not 
 very bad with her teeth," obsf^rved Katharine. — 
 " Oh ! yes, she is ; as bad as bad can be. Pnpa was 
 over here yesterday, and he says that if we don't 
 s 4
 
 264 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 take care she will have fits ; but there's no doing 
 anything with her, she won't take medicine." Ka- 
 tharine did not say that she ought to be made to 
 do it, but it was put down in her memory as one 
 of her own duties to see that direction enforced. 
 "It's tremendously hot, isn't it?" said Selina, 
 leaning against the porch ; " there isn't a breath of 
 fresh air, and there's John hard at work in the 
 hay-field ; I wonder how he bears it." — " Very 
 well, I should think," said Katharine ; " with the 
 prospect of a good crop." — " Oh ! as for that," said 
 Selina, "he is so terribly down-hearted, I don't 
 think he cares whether it is a good crop or a bad. 
 We have had the Colonel here this morning." — 
 " Colonel Forbes ?" asked Katharine.—" Why, yes, 
 Kate ; what other Colonel is there to have ? But 
 won't you come up in the drawing-room ? It is all 
 in a litter, but you won't mind that." They went up- 
 stairs, stumbling upon a dustpan in the way, which 
 made Selina begin a complaint of the new maid, 
 who was, she said, as dull as a post, and as obstinate 
 as a pig. Katharine did not inquire more minutely 
 into her demerits, she was so anxious to hear more 
 of Colonel Forbes' visit. Possibly Selina was not 
 equally willing to tell, for when they went into the 
 drawing-room she devoted her attention entirely to 
 the state of the room, bemoaning her hard fate in 
 having children who w^ould leave broken toys on 
 the floor, romp upon the sofa, put the chairs out of 
 their places, and strum upon the piano when her 
 back was turned. " That's master Johnnie's doing," 
 she said, striking a cracked note ; " I found him at 
 it directly after breakfast. There he was perched 
 upon the stool, and hammering with all his might. 
 If he has been told once he has been told fifty 
 times not to touch the piano." — " Why don't you 
 keep it locked, my dear ? " said Mrs. Ashton. —
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON 265 
 
 " Why, there's no use in it, then," replied Selina ; 
 " I always put it open, with music upon it, for 
 look's sake." Katharine could not help smiling, 
 though not a very happy smile. How many things 
 at Moorlands were done for "look's sake!" — "And 
 now tell us, Selly," said Mrs. Ashton, when, after 
 collecting the toys, arranging the chairs, and 
 smoothing the sofa cushions, something like an 
 appearance of neatness had been restored, "what 
 did the Colonel say this morning?" — "You had 
 better ask John," replied Selina, still moving about 
 the room, and picking up shreds of paper and 
 thread from the carpet, as if seized with a mania 
 for tidiness ; " he is not so over-communicative to 
 me." — " John, or the Colonel ? " inquired Katha- 
 rine. — " Why, both of them," replied Selina ; " and 
 yet I think there is something due to me," she 
 added, bridling her head, " if it's only from respect 
 to my father, who has attended the Colonel and his 
 family for these six years or more. He might 
 have paid me the compliment of at least talking 
 the matter over with me. And John to be so close ! 
 I can't bear it, and I vow I won't bear it ; it's too 
 bad." — "But what is the matter, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Ashton ; " here, come and sit down," and she 
 pointed to the sofa ; "just rest yourself, and don't 
 flurry, and tell us what it is. Ten to one but Mr. 
 Ashton will find some way of helping poor John 
 out of his scrape if he has got into one." — " Yes, 
 it's all done lor John," exclaimed Selina, indig- 
 nantly ; " poor John, indeed ! and nobody thinks 
 of me, slaving from morning till night with the 
 children, and no maid, or as good as none, and not 
 able to go and see a friend, or ask a friend to come 
 and see me. I, who was brought up with such 
 different expectations !"^ — "But if you would tell 
 us about Colonel Forbes," said Katharine, quietly,
 
 266 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 but with an evident anxiety in her tone. — *' Well, 
 then, there's nothing to tell," said Selina, i\npa- 
 tientlv, " only the Colonel is going to raise the 
 rent, and if so John says we can't stay." Mrs. 
 Ashton's countenance changed, and Katharine said, 
 gravely, " That's a serious matter ; I suppose, 
 indeed, you can't stay then." — " And vt'hy not ? I 
 should like to know," exclaimed Selina. " Here we 
 have got a good house over our heads, and a garden, 
 flower-garden and kitchen-garden both, and we 
 have done loads to the place, actually spent a for- 
 tune upon it ; and what right has Colonel Forbes to 
 raise the rent?" Not very logical reasoning, as 
 Katharine perceived ; but she replied to the most 
 obvious meaning of the remark : " As to spending 
 a fortune, Selina, you must remember that you 
 have been paying diminished rent up to this 
 time on account of having spent so much." — 
 " Yes, nominally ; as if the difference of rent 
 would make up for all we have done ! Why, 
 there are the outhouses, and all the offices, 
 and the new day-nursery, and the greenhouse." — 
 " I suppose Colonel Forbes will say that the day- 
 nursery and the greenhouse were fancies of your 
 own," replied Katharine. " You know it was never 
 imagined they would be necessary at first." — " That 
 means that I ought not to have a drawing-room," 
 said Selina ; " I who had been used to one all my 
 life. It may be very well for you to talk, Katharine, 
 bred up, as you were, in a back parlour, and never 
 accustomed to anything else ; but it's different with 
 me, I'll assure you." Katharine suffered the angry 
 feeling to exhaust itself in a toss of the head, and 
 only replied, '• I suppose it is no use to trouble 
 ourselves now as to what was or was not neces- 
 sary ; but I am afraid it is plain that if Colonel 
 Forbes does raise the rent it will be impossible for
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 267 
 
 you to stay, or at least to live as you do now." — 
 " And what do you mean us to do then ?" inquired 
 Selina. — " Of course I can't say ; it is for you to 
 decide; but I should have thought you might 
 find some smaller place ; or if this was not de- 
 sirable, it would be necessary, I suppose, to retrench 
 here." — " A smaller place ! " exclaimed Selina, putting 
 away from her the disagreeable idea of retrenchment ; 
 "why this is not large enough for us." — "Not when 
 we all come and take possession of it," replied 
 Katharine, trying to smile. *' But you know, Selina;, 
 you are not bound to be so hospitable." — " That 
 won't do, my dear," observed Mrs. Ashton, de- 
 cidedly. " Your father never will approve of John's 
 having a place which won't take hira in, and where 
 he can't see the children." — " And I'm sure John 
 won't approve of it either," added Selina. " He is 
 always saying that he can't get on without his 
 father's opinion, and that he wishes that he was 
 living with him. And as for the children, they 
 would break their hearts ; Johnnie wakes up some- 
 times now in the night, and calls for grandpapa." — 
 " But, my dear Selina," observed Katharine, " all 
 these are very fair reasons, if the question were one 
 of choice ; but if you can't afford it, there is no 
 choice." — " Only, I suppose," muttered Selina, as 
 if rather ashamed of what she was saying, " that if 
 we consult your father's pleasure in staying here, 
 he will consult our pockets by helping us with the 
 rent." Katharine felt so extremely angry, that she 
 would not allow herself to reply directly, and 
 before she could speak, Mrs. Ashton had interposed 
 her word : " To be sure, my dear, that seems but 
 fair, and an easy way of settling the matter, if Mr. 
 Ashton can afford it." — " Yes, if he can," said Ka- 
 tharine, quietly. Selina turned round upon her 
 rather sharply : " Why, you know, Katharine, it
 
 268 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 won't be a question of more than twenty or thirty 
 pounds a year, and it is absurd to say that a man 
 with a business like his can't afford that." — " Yet 
 even then it might not be desirable to remain," said 
 Katharine, " if the place is too expensive." — " I 
 don't know what you mean by a place being too 
 expensive," replied Selina ; "we must eat and drink, 
 and the children must be clothed, wherever we are." 
 Katharine would not argue the point ; she knew it 
 was worse than useless, and looking at her watch, 
 asked if it was not dinner-time ? " Yes, all but — 
 that is, it ought to be ; but I suppose Nancy won't 
 be ready, she never is. I wish, Katharine, as you 
 go upstairs, you would step into the nurser}', and 
 tell nurse to go down and help her a little ; and 
 perhaps you wnll take your bonnet off there, and 
 just stay and watch the children." Katharine went; 
 angry with herself for the inclination she felt to 
 refuse whatever Selina asked ; and there she re- 
 mained for nearly half an hour, nurse taking ad- 
 vantage of the liberty given her to transact a little 
 business for herself, instead of helping the other 
 maid. When, at length, Katharine went down- 
 stairs, taking little Clara with her, pouting and 
 crying in the wretchednes of having just waked up 
 from sleep, she found the badly-dressed dinner half- 
 cold ; but such things were but trifles ; a much 
 more important matter was John's grave face, 
 and his unusual silence, which Katharine and her 
 mother vainly endeavoured to break. Katharine 
 could not go out again that afternoon, Selina kept 
 her fully employed ; but she was pleased when five 
 o'clock arrived, and she could listen for the wheels 
 of her father's chaise. From him she always had 
 an attentive hearing for whatever she might say, 
 and there was a great satisfaction in feeling that 
 he had a confidence in her judgment. True, she
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 269 
 
 had never yet ventured to try it too far, by thwart- 
 ing his favourite notions ; but this day she resolved 
 to be bold, and discuss with him openly the advan- 
 tages and disadvantages of keeping John at Moor- 
 lands. That there were advantages she was quite 
 willing to acknowledge. If John undertook a new 
 farm he might be obliged to lay out more money 
 upon it, and Moorlands, as it was, suited him in 
 everything but the expenses, which were princi- 
 pally incurred by Selina. These would be the 
 same everywhere. If she could be persuaded to 
 give up her greenhouse, and her fine dresses and 
 parties, and work for her children ! But that was 
 a hopeless wish, and Katharine, as she thought of 
 the future, felt more desponding than ever. When 
 the children were gone to their tea, and Mrs. 
 Ashton and Selina were having a little conversation 
 about Rilworth matters in the drawing-room, Ka- 
 tharine walked down the lane alone. It was an 
 extremely beautiful evening, and the country was 
 looking lovely, the trees luxuriant in foliage, and 
 the fields about the farm and the glades of the 
 park at Maplestead glittering in lines of yellow 
 light. Katharine felt that she was very fond of 
 Moorlands, notwithstanding its annoyances. It had 
 become full of associations, not all pleasant, yet rest- 
 ing-places for memory, and recalling many thoughts 
 and resolutions which were eventful epochs in her 
 own mental history. She felt that she should be 
 very sorry to have no more interest in the place, 
 especially sorry for her father. He had, in a great 
 measure, made it what it was, and it had given liini 
 many hours of pleasant and innocent relaxation. 
 Katharine valued them for him even more than 
 he could value them for himself She saw how 
 they soothed any irritable feelings aroused by busi- 
 ness, and awakened his mind to better and holier
 
 270 KATHARIXE ASHTON. 
 
 thoughts than were suggested in the bustling 
 influence of Rilworth. The Sundays in the country 
 had been especially pleasant to him, and Katharine 
 felt now how much there would be to regret in 
 the quiet walks which they had lately often taken 
 together, and which had given her a satisfaction 
 never so fully realised as then, when she thought 
 she might be about to lose them. But one blessing 
 she had derived from them which nothing could 
 take away, — she understood her father better, and 
 he understood her ; he had grown younger, as it 
 were, under the influence of her simple earnestness 
 and loving faith. Hopes and wishes, — the bright 
 hopes and purer wishes of innocent and holy 
 childhood, — had sprung up again in the heart of 
 the shrewd, hard-working, yet always kind-hearted 
 and upright man of the world ; and these were 
 never likely to be buried again, whatever might be 
 the outward circumstances of his condition. All 
 this Katharine felt deeply, and most thankfully ; she 
 did not see the share which had been permitted to 
 herself in the work, for the direct influence she 
 attributed to Mr. Reeves ; and certainly there was 
 much for which she was indebted to him : but from 
 whatever cause the alteration arose, it made her 
 much happier in her home, and caused her to 
 look with regret upon the prospect of any change 
 that might interrupt the peaceful intercourse with 
 her father which she had lately enjoyed. 
 
 And the glorious beech woods of Maplestead 
 brought another regret. Katharine felt it, as she 
 caught a glimpse of the house through the trees, 
 and saw the sun's rays lighting up the large window 
 of the morning-room, where Jane was probably 
 at that moment sitting. A keen, sharp pang 
 it was, — the sting of many mingled feelings; 
 affection, and disappointment, and vague foreboding
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 271 
 
 anxieties ; but she had no leisure to analyse them ; 
 her father's chaise turned into the lane; and calling 
 to a boy to talie the horse, Mr. Ashton alighted and 
 walked with her towards the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 That evening Colonel Forbes and Jane were alone 
 in the drawing-room at Maplestead ; an unusual 
 occurrence. They were very seldom alone now. 
 Colonel Forbes was the member for Rilworth, and 
 parliamentary interests make sad inroads upon 
 domestic comfort. He was just what he had been 
 five years before ; Jane was thinner — paler she 
 could not well be. She was working — ornamenting 
 a frock for her little boy — she could not work for the 
 poor in the drawing-room, her husband did not like 
 it. Colonel Forbes was reading the newspaper. It 
 was a very warm evening, and Jane leant back in her 
 chair and seemed oppressed by the heat. Presently 
 she stood up and opened the window. The Colonel 
 looked up from his paper : " It is very cold, my 
 dear; are you obliged to have that window open?" 
 — " Oh, no, not at all," and the window was closed, 
 and Jane sat down again and went on with her 
 work. " Is there anything interesting in the papers, 
 Philip?" — "Nothing that will interest you, my dear." 
 He read it for another ten minutes in silence, then 
 tossed it aside, and throwing his head back in his 
 chair, closed his eyes. Jane took up the paper. Public 
 matters always attracted her now for her husband's 
 sake. She liked to read the leading article in ' The 
 Times;' and she turned over the huge sheets to find 
 it. The Colonel opened his eyes : " Are you obliged
 
 272 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 to make that rustling, Jane?" — " Oh! no, not if it 
 disturbs you. " The paper was put down softly, and 
 Jane returned diligently to her work. The time-piece 
 struck half-past ten. Jane looked very worn; she had 
 not been at all strong lately. She began putting up her 
 work, and accidentally moved so as to awake her hus- 
 band. He started up: "Bed-time, Jane! it can't be." 
 — "Yes, indeed it is," said Jane, smiling, and point- 
 ing to the time-piece. " It is only a quarter-past 
 by my watch," said the Colonel, " and I wanted to 
 talk to you." Jane sat down instantly. "I must be 
 off to London to-morrow." — "Again!" and Jane 
 tried very hard not to let the silly tears come into 
 her eyes. — " I shall not be gone long," he continued; 
 " not more than a week or ten days. You must really 
 try, Jane, not to fret about it in this way. You know 
 I cannot help it." — "Oh! no," exclaimed Jane; "of 
 course I know you can't help it ; but, dear Philip, 
 you must not be vexed with me for wishing not to 
 lose you." — " Of course not, my love; no one dreams 
 of being vexed with you, only you know I don't 
 like sorrowful faces. What I wanted to say to you 
 was, that I have been talking to young Ashton to- 
 day about his farm, and that if his sister comes to 
 you at all about it, you must not give her any hope 
 of ray changing my determination." — " Very well," 
 replied Jane, in a quiet voice, and keeping her eyes 
 fixed upon the ground. " I don't want to be hard," 
 continued the Colonel, in an apologetic tone, " but I 
 can't be ruining myself for a man who goes against 
 me in everything. If old Ashton will join himself 
 to the Maddens and their set, he must not expect 
 me to put myself out of my way to keep his son at 
 Moorlands." — "I don't think he has any object in 
 what he is doing," observed Jane ; " he has been 
 talked over into being a Protectionist, but I really 
 don't believe he has any decided opinions upon the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 273 
 
 subject." — " That may or may not be, my dear ; it 
 will not alter my determination, and therefore I 
 wish to hear no excuses." Jane shrank into her- 
 self; she dared not thwart him by arguing the point. 
 " The Duke and myself have agreed that we must 
 make a stand upon the question," continued Colonel 
 Forbes; "I shall see the Duke in London, and when 
 he comes home we are to have some meetings at the 
 Castle." — "At which you won't want me, I suppose," 
 said Jane, with an attempt at a smile. — " That will 
 be as it happens, my love ; if there are ladies there, 
 
 of course you will go; if not," " I shall stay at 
 
 home and take care of the children," said Jane, 
 good-humouredly. He did not say, "Yes," or "no," 
 but went on upon his own subject. " That is a 
 most clever acticle in 'The Times,' Jane; have you 
 read it?" — "No, I have not had time, but I will to- 
 morrow." — "Just sit down and read it now, and tell 
 me what you think of it ; it won't take you long." 
 Jane's eyes were heavy with sleep, her limbs were 
 aching ; she looked at her watch again. " I don't 
 think I really can understand it to-night, Philip, 
 I am so very tired." He looked annoyed, but said 
 nothing. Jane understood the look well. It was 
 his common complaint that she took no interest in 
 his parliamentary business. " Perhaps it is not so 
 very long," shesaid; and with a great effort she roused 
 her energies and sat down to study the long political 
 article. Colonel Forbes read till she had ended ; 
 and when she laid down the paper, exclaimed, 
 " \Yell, what do you think of it ? " Jane gave her 
 opinion — it seemed to her very conclusive. He looked 
 extremely pleased, and said, that of course it was ; it 
 was based upon sound principles, principles he had 
 always advocated, and he would explain to her what 
 they were. He was eloquent upon the subject, and 
 Jane managed to keep awake so well and to ask such 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 very apt questions that he was put into thorough good 
 humour, both with himself and her. He talked till 
 he was tired, till it was half-past eleven, instead of 
 half-past ten, quite unconscious all the time of the 
 fatigue expressed in Jane's face ; and then rang for a 
 bottle of soda-water. " I think I must go now," 
 said Jane. — "Oh! why? It is not at all late." — 
 " Half-past eleven," said Jane, " and you know I 
 ought to be in bed by eleven." — " Oh ! that is only 
 Dr. Lowe's folly; I don't believe one hour or another 
 makes the slightest diiFerence." — "Not to you per- 
 haps," said Jane, "but it does to me." She took up 
 her candle, but sat down again. *' I think, Philip, 
 if you would get me a glass of water I should be 
 better." Her face expressed so much suffering that 
 he was frightened, and rang the bell violently. " Is 
 it pain, my love ? — is it the old pain ? " he inquired, 
 anxiously. "Not pain exactly, only an odd faint 
 kind of feeling," said Jane ; " but I am better now, 
 I dare say I shall do without the water." She stood 
 up, and he made her take his arm. " We must send 
 you to bed quickly," he said, as he led her along the 
 passage, and delivered her into the care of her maid. 
 "Dawson, don't let your mistress exert herself." Jane 
 smiled, and said she w^ as feeling pretty w^ell now : 
 and he left her, quite satisfied. 
 
 Breakfast was earlier than usual the next morn- 
 ing ; it always was when the Colonel was going to 
 London. He had to drive into Rilworth to meet 
 the ten-o'clock train. Jane came down stairs at 
 eight o'clock, not looking well ; but Colonel Forbes 
 did not see that. She made his breakfast, and then 
 went to his study to receive his orders. They were 
 always given to her, for he would not trust any one 
 else, though many were of that kind which would 
 have been better given to his steward or bailiff. 
 John Ashton and the farm were again mentioned,
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 275 
 
 and a still greater determination was expressed by 
 Colonel Forbes not to agree to any offer which would 
 keep him at Moorlands, except that of taking a 
 lease for five years more, and paying increased 
 rent. Jane was bolder this morning, and said she 
 should be grieved to have anything done hastily, 
 if it were only for Katharine's sake ; but she was 
 silenced by her husband's manner. There was a 
 peculiar moodiness, a clouded brow, which always 
 warned her when she was going too fur. He could 
 not endure opposition. He said now, that he never 
 acted hastily ; that he had considered the subject 
 well, and had consulted persons whose opinion was 
 worth having ; his mind was made up. As regarded 
 Miss Ashton, he regretted that Jane should suffer 
 herself to be warped in judgment by a fancied senti- 
 mental affection for a person in every way her in- 
 ferior. Jane could bear much for herself, but con- 
 tempt expressed for Katharine tried her severely. If 
 she did not reply it was not because she did not feel, 
 but because she felt too much ; but Colonel Forbes 
 never saw anything he did not like to see, and he 
 turned now to a different subject — election parties. 
 He must have some, he said, as soon as he re- 
 turned, and he begged that Jane would send out 
 cards of invitation. — " Certainly, if you wish it," 
 was Jane's reply ; " but is it necessary for me to 
 appear at these parties ? They try me very much, 
 and they seem only intended for gentlemen." — " I 
 cannot urge the point, my love, but you know what 
 will be the result of showing disrespect to the Ril- 
 
 worth people." Jane was silent again " I shall 
 
 probably bring down one or two parliamentary men 
 with me," continued the Colonel. "You will be 
 prepared for them, Jane." — " Certainly, dear Philip; 
 I am always ready, as you know, for your friends ; 
 only spare me the wives and daughters," she added, 
 T 2
 
 276 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 laughing. — " I will spare you what I can, my dear," 
 he answered, in a tone of impatience ; " but you 
 must remember that we have something else to con- 
 sult besides inclination." AYhat was to be said to 
 that argument ? Nothing. Jane summoned up her 
 courage to endure the importation of a set of fine 
 London ladies whom she scarcely knew, and did not 
 at all like, and who would certainly upset for the time 
 her little plans of occupation and charity. — "I sup- 
 pose", she said, timidly, when the last orders were 
 given, " you will not have any leisure in London." 
 — " I can't say, my love ; probably not ; but what 
 do you want ? " — " Only that poor boy, young 
 Dawes, who was sent to the hospital; — I should 
 like to know that some one had seen him ; or 
 if you could only inquire how he is going on." 
 — " Better wait till you go to London yourself, my 
 dear," replied the Colonel. "Ladies always manage 
 these things better than gentlemen. Is there any- 
 thing else?" — "Nothing except but nevermind, 
 
 I had better not trouble you. You Avill not be able, 
 I suppose, to come into the garden and give your 
 opinion about the turn of the new walk. I should 
 like to have it all finished before your return." 
 — " Finish it your own way, my dear, I don't 
 care about it. Where are the children?" — "In 
 the nursery, just going out." He hurried upstairs 
 much quicker than she could follow, kissed his little 
 girl once, his boy many times, and was standing 
 in the hall again before the carriage was ready. 
 Jane followed him there : " How often shall I hear 
 from you, dear Philip ? " — " I can't exactly say, my 
 love ; you know I am only going for a week, and 
 I shall be tremendously Ijusy." — " Yes, I forgot 
 that," said Jane. " I suppose you could not write 
 and tell me for certain if I have to go to the Castle." 
 — "If I remember it I will; but you need not fret
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 277 
 
 yourself about it, you have nothing to do but to 
 make up your mind that you will go — What are 
 those fellows doing with the carriage?" — "I hear 
 the wheels," said Jane, going to the hall-door. 
 — "Then, good-bye, my love." He kissed her 
 hastily. Jane's eyes were full of tears; but her 
 manner had something of the old impassiveness. 
 Besides, the servants were near ; she could not let 
 them see that she was wanting in self-control. 
 — "Remember you write every day, my love," said 
 the Colonel, " and tell me everything you hear of 
 public matters." — " Certainly." Jane's lips qui- 
 vered, and she could not say more. The time was 
 gone by when every tone and look was noticed. 
 Colonel Forbes said another cheerful good-bye, 
 waved his hand from the window, and drove oiF. 
 Jane watched the carriage down the avenue, and 
 when it entered the Rilworth road, turned back to 
 her solitary room to think over and treasure up the 
 one request which savoured of the affection of by- 
 gone days : " Remember you write every day, my 
 love." She did not add the reason of the anxiety, 
 " tell me everything you hear of public matters." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Jane spent a great part of the morning in the 
 shrubbery, partly to superintend the turning of the 
 walk, partly for the pleasure of being with her 
 children ; but she felt sadly lonely, and there was 
 to be a week of loneliness, possibly more, and after 
 that the intrusion of visitors, and then the visit to 
 the Castle. She sighed for quietness, not by herself, 
 but with her husband — quietness which would bring 
 T 3
 
 278 KATHARIXE ASHTON. 
 
 liira back to her and give him sympathy with her 
 pursuits. The whirl in which he lived separated 
 him from her sadly in appearance — she could not, 
 would not, think it was in heart. Even now she 
 did not see his faults, or if she did see them she 
 attributed them only to circumstances. Yet from 
 whatever cause they arose they had the same un- 
 fortunate effect upon her, — they chilled lier, and 
 doubled her natural fence of reserve. How could 
 she speak to him upon subjects near her heart when 
 she was met by answers which showed that his 
 thoughts were wandering, or that be was irritated 
 by the interruption to his own ideas ? But Jane 
 blamed herself almost wholly. When he was cold 
 and absent, she said it was her own unfortunate 
 manner which was the cause; and if he complained 
 of her, as he sometimes did, she at once acknow- 
 ledged the justice of the accusation. She was, she 
 knew, very chilly at times. But how could she 
 expand to the sun when there was no sun to cheer 
 her ? Often and often, when feeling was most 
 aroused, when one word of love would have assisted 
 her over the barrier of her natural disposition, and 
 enabled her to pour forth the full tide of her affec- 
 tion, some act of thoughtlessness, some expression 
 which showed ignorance of her wishes, checked the 
 torrent ready to escape, and forced it back with 
 the rush of disappointed feeling to the depths of 
 her own heart. The world looked at Mrs. Forbes, 
 and called her happy ; perhaps she was so accord- 
 ing to their notions of happiness. She had no 
 great griefs, no wearing anxieties ; her husband 
 could not be called unkind or tyrannical ; he was 
 very properly attentive to her, very respectably 
 affectionate ; he gave her everything that wealth 
 could procure, and was anxious about her when she 
 was ill, and insisted upon having the very best
 
 KATHAEINE ASHT0:N-. 279 
 
 medical advice. If he did not share her pursuits, 
 at least he did not generally interfere with tliem ; 
 and as long as she did not come in the way of his 
 political interests, he did not wish to put a check 
 upon her parochial ones. Her children were lovely, 
 healthy, and intelligent ; her little girl becoming 
 something of a companion, her boy showing, even 
 in his infancy, signs of a precocious intellect. One 
 grief — the loss of her mother, wlio had died about 
 two years after her marriage — had indeed darkened 
 her happiness for a time ; but (so the world said) a 
 married woman would naturally feel the severing 
 of that early tie much less than one to whom it was 
 the entire break up of home. People were very 
 sorry for her when her mother died, but no one 
 considered that it would be a life-long grief. How 
 could it be, when she had a kind husband and two 
 sweet little children left ? 
 
 Mrs. Forbes was envied by many, by all perhaps 
 in Rilworth, except one. 
 
 " Half-past eleven, nurse, — time for the children 
 to go in, is it not?" said Jane, sitting down on a 
 bench, and beckoning little Lucy to her. " Lucy is 
 sleepy, I am sure," she added ; and she took up the 
 child in her lap, and laid her head upon her 
 shoulder. " Lucy stay with mamma," was the child's 
 answer ; and Philip, who could only just run alone, 
 put up his little face for a kiss, and cried for her to 
 take him. Jane always felt so free, so happy with 
 her children ! There could be no reserve, no chilling 
 absence and inattention with them, and nothing 
 she could say or do would be misconstrued. Tired 
 though she w^as, she took them both in her lap, and 
 played with them, and fondled them with all the 
 yearning tenderness of a young mother's love. " You 
 will wear yourself out with them, ma'am," said the 
 nurse, looking at the tired expression of her face, 
 T 4
 
 280 KATHARIXE ASHTON. 
 
 " and it is their sleeping time ; they had much better 
 go in." — " Yes, I know they had," replied Jane, yet 
 she kept them only the more closely in her arms, 
 and smoothed the little girl's glossy curls, and pressed 
 her lips to her boy's soft cheek. "Lucy stay with 
 mamma, because mamma is alone ;" and the child 
 turned away from the nurse when she would fain 
 have lifted her to the ground. " Then Lucy must 
 stay a whole week," said Jane, " for mamma will be 
 alone all that time." — " Is master gone for so long, 
 ma'am ? " asked the nurse respectfully. — "A week 
 or ten days," said Jane, trying to speak as if she 
 did not care. — "It seems very soon to be away 
 again," was the nurse's comment. " I hoped he was 
 going to stay with us a little, as he only came back 
 so lately. Are you sure you hadn't better go in, 
 ma'am, and rest a little before luncheon ?" But 
 Jane refused. " The fresh air," she said, "was the 
 best thing she could have, and she would sit on the 
 bench, and read, and then at the same time she 
 could watch the men at their work." The children 
 were carried away, not without a little resistance 
 from Lucy; and Jane sat still to enjoy rest and 
 silence. It was unfortunate that she should extract 
 gall from the simplest words ; yet the observation, 
 " It seems very soon to be away again," in spite of 
 herself, fretted her. True there were parliamentary 
 duties and engagements; — no doubt there were 
 reasons why her husband should be so constantly 
 absent from her ; yet there must be something 
 more than common in these frequent absences, or 
 they would not be noticed, and noticed by the 
 servants. Jane could not bear the thought of that; 
 most especially she dreaded pity from any but 
 those whom she dearly loved. She felt angry with 
 the nurse, and then angry with herself for being so ; 
 and she reasoned, and argued, and thought upon her
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 281 
 
 husband's pressing business, which must necessarily 
 interfere with his attentions to her; and brought 
 forth from the treasure-house of her memory every 
 little act of affectionate thoughtfulness, every word 
 of anxious interest, and repeated again his last wish, 
 — " Remember you write every day, my love ;" till 
 she believed, or thought at least that she believed, 
 him unchanged. If there was a hollow at her 
 heart, a space unfilled, a feeling unsatisfied, Jane 
 would not then acknowledge it. 
 
 It was past twelve, and still she was sitting in 
 the garden, working, when one of the men- 
 servants came to find her, and tell her that Miss 
 Ashton was waiting to speak with her. He seemed 
 to expect the answer : " Ask her to come to me in 
 the garden ;" and Katharine must have expected it 
 also, for she was already standing on the flight of 
 steps which led from the house to the shrubbery. 
 She was a welcome and frequent visitor ; the ser- 
 vant's manner showed that, for he did not think it 
 necessary to point out the bench where she would 
 find his mistress, but left her to make her way by 
 herself through the walks, which perhaps she knew 
 even better than himself. Jane's radiant smile was 
 very dear to Katharine's heart ; it was unmistak- 
 able, such entire confidence there was in it ! And 
 though she had come burdened with care, there was 
 still space left for the quick throb of pleasure 
 caused by the return of a most true and long-en- 
 during affection. 
 
 Five years of trial and mutual experience and sym- 
 pathy ! How closely they may knit human hearts 
 together, let the world strive to raise what barriers 
 it may of outward position! "I have been think- 
 ing of you, Katharine," said Jane, " fancying you 
 might be here this morning, because I saw your 
 father's chaise go up the lane last evening, and so I
 
 282 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 concluded you were all at Moorlands." — "We 
 came yesterday," said Kntharine ; '* my mother and 
 I walked in the middle of the day, and my father 
 drove over in the eveninf^." — "And does your 
 father like his new pony ? " inquired Jane. " He 
 was just going to buy it when I saw you last." — 
 " Yes, he likes it very much," answered Katharine ; 
 "but I am afraid it won't be a pleasure to him 
 much longer." " Why not ? " asked Jane, though she 
 felt conscience stricken for knowing the answer be- 
 forehand. " Can't you guess, dear Mrs. Forbes ? " 
 said Katharine, looking at her with a little surprise. 
 Jane rather hesitated. " Perhaps I may guess 
 something about it, Katharine ; but one must — "she 
 was going to eay, "hope that a mutual agreement 
 may be possible ;" but she could not venture upon 
 this, for she was certain that on her husband's side 
 at least there would be no change. " I don't think 
 there is anything to hope for," continued Katharine ; 
 " Colonel Forbes has a fair right to an increase of 
 rent ; both my father and John acknowledge that ; 
 the misfortune is, that John cannot aiford to pay it." 
 — " I should be very, very sorry to lose you as a kind 
 of neighbour," said Jane ; " I should not see half as 
 much of you then, Katharine." — "And I am sure we 
 shall be very sorry to go," said Katharine ; " we 
 have had many happy days at Moorhxnds, my father 
 especially. He wall never like any other place as 
 well, and indeed I doubt if he will have the op- 
 portunity. There is some notion of John's coming 
 back to the shop." — "But that would never do, 
 would it?" exclaimed Jane. "When he has not been 
 brought up to the business ; he would never work 
 in it well." — " I don't think he w^ould," replied 
 Katharine ; " and that is the reason why I never 
 urge the point myself, though it seems the most 
 natural thinjr to do. But then if he does not enter
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 283 
 
 the shop, I don't know what he is to do ; it is very 
 perplexing." She looked thoroughly harassed, and 
 Jane pressed her hand, and said, " Poor Katharine ! 
 I am so sorry for you," just as she would have done 
 in the old days. Katharine struggled against the 
 weak feelings which rose up in her throat, and gave 
 her a sensation of being suffocated, and then she 
 said, " I am much more sorry for my father than 
 for any one else. I hoped the latter years of his 
 life would have been peaceful, but troubles seem 
 to be thickening upon us." — "They do that with us 
 all, I am afraid," said Jane ; " but, dear Katharine, 
 we must try and see some way out of this business. 
 — I wish Colonel Forbes was here." — " Is he not ?" 
 exclaimed Katharine, with a tone of excessive dis- 
 appointment ; " I thought I saw him yesterday." — 
 " He was here yesterday, but he is gone to London 
 to-day," replied Jane ; "and he will be away probably 
 a week or ten days ; and when he comes clown there 
 will be friends witli him, and after that I think we 
 shall be going to stay at the Duke of Lowther's." — 
 "That will not be much quietness for you, dear Mrs. 
 Forbes, and you want quietness," said Katharine, 
 putting aside the thought of her own troubles, as 
 she noticed Jane's worn expression of face. — "I 
 shall have a week's quietness at any rate," said 
 Jane ; but the words had in them an accent of bit- 
 terness; " and I must make the best use I can of it," 
 she added, " by growing strong. But, Katharine, 
 what is to be done for you in this business ?" 
 
 Katharine considered a minute. " I should have 
 liked best to talk to Colonel Forbes," she said ; " I 
 think I might have made him see things my way 
 then. It is better to ask fjxvours oneself, and what 
 I have to ask is a favour." — "For yourself or 
 your brother ?" inquired Jane. — "For my father, 
 principally," replied Katharine ; " but does that
 
 2 84 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 make any difference?" — "Only that those horrible 
 politics come into the question," said Jane ; "Mr. 
 Ashton and Colonel Forbes are not quite one as 
 they used to be." Katharine's start showed a 
 sudden enlightenment. She drew herself up with 
 a momentary feeling of pride, and said, " If that is 
 the cause Avhy Colonel Forbes wishes my brother 
 to go from Moorlands, there is nothing more to be 
 said." — "Just as hasty as in the days of Miss 
 Kichardson," exclaimed Jane, with a smile. " Gen- 
 tlemen are gentlemen, and will have fancies about 
 politics, which you and I perhaps may think carrie-d 
 to a wrong extent ; but it does not follow, dear 
 Katharine, that private friends are to quarrel in 
 consequence." — " Quarrel ! Oh, no, dear Mrs. 
 Forbes. I was «3o wrong; please forgive me ;" and 
 Katharine looked, and was, ashamed of her burst 
 of petulance. " My father suggested something of 
 the kind," she continued ; " and that was the reason 
 why he would not come and talk over the matter 
 himself; but it lies so near his heart that I could 
 not bear to give it all up without an effort, and so 
 I said I would be bold and come instead." — " And 
 what is the favour which Mr. Ashton is too proud 
 to ask?" inquired Jane. — "Why, that instead of 
 making John take a lease of the farm for five years 
 more at once," replied Katharine, " which I believe 
 is what Colonel Forbes wishes, he may be allowed 
 to try it for one year longer with only a moderate 
 increase of rent, and by that time my father thinks 
 John will be cleared of some of the difficulties 
 which press him now, and will be able to see his 
 way clearly, and judge how far it will be wise to 
 continue at Moorlands. I was very averse to this 
 plan at first," continued Katharine ; " I am afraid 
 that it is too much of a place for him. But my 
 father urges it so much, that I suppose he is right ;
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 2S5 
 
 and in fact, as he says, if John were to give up the 
 farm at once, he would be thrown upon the wide 
 world without a home or occupation, and it might 
 be months and months before he would find any- 
 thing to suit him ; whereas, the delay of a year 
 will give him time to look about." — "1 wish I 
 could settle the matter directly for you," replied 
 Jane ; " but I am afraid there must be some delay, 
 
 unless, " and she paused. — " It frets my father 
 
 very much," continued Katharine ; " I have scarcely 
 ever seen him in such a state of worry as he was 
 last night ; and now, this morning, instead of going 
 into Rilworth, he is staying with John, talking 
 over affairs, and going over the farm." — " It is a 
 pity he has not some wise farming friend to advise 
 him," said Jane ; " he cannot have had much 
 experience himself." — " Mr. Ronaldson talked of 
 coming down," said Katharine. — " Oh ! Mr. Ro- 
 naldson," exclaimed Jane, laughing ; "your old 
 friend Charlie, Katharine. I remember how the 
 word used to slip out, and how you always cor- 
 rected yourself and said Mr. Ronaldson immediately 
 afterwards quite properly." — " I must never call 
 him Charlie again to any one," said Katharine ; 
 " he is a grand man, and going to be married ? " — 
 "And to give up the Duke's northern agency, and 
 take the Rilworth one, is he not ? " inquired Jane. 
 — " Not that I ever heard of," replied Katharine ; 
 " he is coming down ; but, as I said before, to see 
 my father and John ; and I have a notion too that 
 he may be wishing to bring his wife with him, and 
 introduce her to his old friends." — " Oh ! is that 
 all ? but I did hear sometliing about the Rilworth 
 agency, I am sure. Never mind about that though, 
 nov/ ; tell me what will be done if Mr. Ronaldson 
 does not come ? " — " My father and John will hav<j 
 to decide matters for themselves," said Katharine j
 
 286 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 " and I don't think, — I hope it is not very undutiful, 
 — but I don't think they are very likely to decide 
 wisely." — "And delay is all you want?" said Jane. 
 — " Yes, delay, with a moderate increase of rent ; 
 only I thought, — dear Mrs. Forbes, would it be 
 troubling you very much to ask you to write?" 
 Jane looked extremely uncomfortable, and Katha- 
 rine's quick eye instantly caught the change in her 
 countenance. " But not if you have any objection ; 
 if you at all think it would be better not," she 
 added ; " you must know much better than I can." 
 — " It might be better for you to write yourself, 
 Katharine," observed Jane ; and a flush of pain- 
 ful feelings crimsoned her face. Katharine made 
 no answer for some moments, and then she said, 
 " If it is because of politics that Colonel Forbes 
 wishes John to go, it will be better to let things 
 stay as they are ; I could not write myself." — 
 " Why not?" inquired Jane. — "Because it is not 
 my place, and he would think so, and be angry ; 
 writing is such a very business thing — it is quite 
 different from talking. I think I could have ex- 
 plained myself if I had been able to see him." — 
 " And you may see him very soon," replied Jane ; 
 " I will let you know directly he comes home." 
 Katharine thanked her, but her manner was that of 
 a person who was very disappointed. Jane could 
 not bear this, she felt as if she had been cowardly. 
 " I am afraid I have vexed you by not agreeing 
 to write myself," she said. — " I dare say I am 
 wrong in being vexed," replied Katharine, can- 
 didly ; " I am sure you must have very good rea- 
 sons."— "I would do it in an instant," said Jane; 
 "if I thought it would further your cause." Her 
 colour went and came fast, and Katharine saw 
 directly that she must not press the subject. Jane 
 felt as if she had betrayed herself by giving cause
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTOX. 287 
 
 for suspicion tliat her influence with her husband 
 was not Avhat it once had been. She could not 
 bear that, even with Katharine ; and she tried to 
 explain, to lay the blame upon politics, but it 
 would not do. She was so thoroughly true in 
 feeling and in word, that the shadow of dissimula- 
 tion perplexed her painfully. Katharine's percep- 
 tions were too keen not to read something of the 
 truth. " Dear Mrs. Forbes," she said, as Jane held 
 her hand affectionately; "please do not try to 
 explain. I was in fault, not you ; it would really 
 vex me now if you were to write. My father 
 must wait, it will only be the delay of a week." — 
 " No, only a week," said Jane, abstractedly. — "And 
 I will go home and preach patience to him," con- 
 tinued Katharine. Jane assented, but in the same 
 absent way, and Katharine rose to take leave. " 1 
 had a great deal to say to you," observed Jane; 
 '' but it is gone now ; my head aches terribly." She 
 put her hand to her head, and the same look of 
 suffering which had frightened her husband the 
 evening before came over her face. Katharine did 
 not like to leave her, and begged her to go into the 
 house ; but Jane shook her head. " Just tell them 
 to send my maid to me, that is all I want — good- 
 bye, dear Katharine ; it is going off again, I shall 
 be quite well in a minute," she added, as Katharine 
 watched her anxiously ; " I sat up too late last 
 night, that is all." — " You want some one to take 
 care of you," said Katharine. She spoke without 
 any particular meaning, merely from kindness ; but 
 the words shot like a dagger through Jane's heart, 
 and tired and ill as she already was, she leant her 
 head upon Katharine's shoulder and burst into 
 tears.
 
 288 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Katharine went back to Moorlands, thinkinf? very 
 little of her own affairs — very much of Jane's. 
 Some incidents, trifling in themselves, solve myste- 
 ries which have perplexed us for years. Five years 
 had Katharine been pondering the question which 
 she had asked herself when first she met Jane as 
 the mistress of Maplestead — Was she going to be 
 happy ? For five years had she watched the course 
 of Jane's life, noticed her looks and words, and 
 varied in her opinion almost with every fresh op- 
 portunity for observation. In her first married days 
 Jane appeared blind to that which to Katharine was 
 clear as the sunlight. She was so unselfish and 
 self-sacrificing that she seemed not to have the 
 power of perceiving selfishness in others — especially 
 in those she loved. It was so easy to her to give 
 up her own wishes, that she was not conscious when 
 she had done so. During this period Katharine 
 imagined that Jane was happy ; or if occasionally 
 clouds appeared to be gathering, they formed only 
 a thin mist, which scarcely could be said to obscure 
 the brightness of her life. But then came a change. 
 Colonel Forbes entered upon political life, and 
 everything was considered subordinate to his par- 
 liamentary interests. His wife's domestic quiet 
 was disturbed, and her most cherished pursuits were 
 put aside, if in the slightest degree they crossed the 
 path of his ambition ; and Katharine could not but 
 perceive that Jane was oftentimes in consequence 
 sorely fretted. As an instance, she had kept up 
 the care of her district, not very regularly, but still 
 with a thoughtful judgment and kindness which
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 289 
 
 had been a great help to Katharine, and many were 
 the little favours which the poor had obtained 
 from her influence with her husband. But this 
 was now stopped. When Katharine mentioned 
 cases in which Colonel Forbes could be of use, «Tane 
 hesitated to mention them. He was busy ; or she 
 was afraid he would not like to do what he was 
 asked because of offending Mr. So-and-so ; or she 
 knew he would not take any steps in the matter 
 until he had consulted some one else. There was 
 always some obstacle in the way, very distressing 
 to Jane — Katharine could see that — but quite in- 
 surmountable ; and at last Jane gave up her district ; 
 partly, she said, because of health, partly because 
 of want of leisure; but a very great deal, as Katha- 
 rine suspected, because she felt that kindnesses were 
 expected from her which she had not the power to 
 show. 
 
 Still these vexations might not disturb tlie real 
 happiness of life, and everything was outwardly 
 smooth with Jane and her liusband, Katharine 
 had not mucli opportunity of seeing further. The 
 instinct of her own good taste made her feel tliat she 
 must not go to Maplestead even as often as Jane 
 would have been willing to see lier there. Jane had a 
 regard for her from the associations of old times, but 
 Colonel Forbes could not care in the least about iier; 
 and Katharine very soon perc ived that, although 
 he expected his own friends to be welcomed at once 
 by Jane as hers, he did not at all think it necessary 
 to reciprocate the sympathy. He was very civil to 
 Katharine when tliey met ; but that sehlom hap- 
 pened. When Katharine knew that Jane was 
 alone, she went to Maplestead to see lier ; when she 
 knew that Colonel Forbes was tliere, she never in- 
 truded except when business required it. 
 
 But even in those few meetings, a quick eye like 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 KATHAPaXE ASHTON. 
 
 Katharine's could, after a time, discover some causes 
 for doubting Jane's perfect happiness. It was 
 quite evident that she humoured her husband, not 
 from affection only, but from fear. Whenever he 
 began a subject, she pursued it, even at the risk of 
 tiring others ; whenever she had a subject to begin 
 herself, she touched upon it with delicate caution. 
 If he showed an interest in it, it was followed out ; 
 but if he was abstracted or indifferent, it was in- 
 stantly dropped. If she differed from him it was 
 always with the utmost humility ; her suggestions 
 were those of a gentle child doubtful of her own 
 power. Now and then he would listen to them, 
 but more frequently he just smiled and turned to 
 another subject. He was kept in good humour by 
 these means, and so Jane was satisfied ; but it was 
 a life of constant eifort — there was no freedom in 
 it. Jane could not read or write, or work, or talk 
 — she could not even say that she liked or disliked 
 a thing, without consulting that handsome, polislied, 
 clever brow, which was open or clouded with every 
 change of the working mind within. 
 
 And the provoking point to Katharine in all this 
 was that there was so little directly to complain 
 of. If Colonel Forbes had been passionate, or 
 absurdly particular upon any special subject, or 
 exacting in any one peculiar fancy, there would 
 have been a direct cause of offence, and it might 
 have been reasoned against, or borne patiently ; but 
 it was an indescribable, intangible source of trial, 
 and one to which his own eyes Mere necessarily 
 blinded. He had always loved himself best ; he 
 did so now. It was not possible for him to perceive 
 that he was changed in any way, because, though 
 his outward manner miglit be different, his heart 
 was unaltered. His indifierence to Jane's wishes 
 and feelings now was only another form of the same
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 291 
 
 selfishness which, before thej were married, had in- 
 duced him to consult thera. He loved her first be- 
 cause she pleased his taste, and approved herself to 
 his judgment of what the wife of a man in his posi- 
 tion ought to be. To indulge the feeling, to obtain 
 her thankful affection in return, he lavished upon 
 her all his wealth, and devoted to her all his time. 
 But his constant thought for the future was not 
 how he could please her when she was his wife, but 
 how she could please him — what a pleasant, intel- 
 ligent companion she would be — how gracefully she 
 would do the honours of his house — how proud he 
 should be of introducing her to his friends ! He 
 wished to see her happy, but then she must learn 
 to be so in his way. There was no change in all 
 this after they married, only the first excitement of 
 feeling had passed otF. He was accustomed to her. 
 His selfishness took the form of love before ; now 
 it was changed into ambition. He did not really 
 mean to be as unkind as he often was — he would 
 have been shocked to know the effect which his 
 impatience and neglect had upon his gentle wife, 
 and he would have deemed it disgraceful to be- 
 have in an unmanly way towards one so trusting 
 and loving ; but he was a cold man — ^^cold, though 
 with impetuous feelings, sudden impulses, even 
 overflowings of kindness and apparent benevolence ; 
 he was cold because self was his centre, and the 
 touch of self changes the rushing stream of love 
 into an iceberg. To Katharine Asliton, Jane's 
 life was a mystery. Inexperienced in love her- 
 self, she could not imagine the extent of its 
 blinding power. Before Jane's marriage she had 
 given Colonel Forbes credit for virtues which he 
 did not possess, upon the strength of Jane's affec- 
 tion for him ; now that she was convinced her own 
 first impressions were true, it seciued us if, necea- 
 u 2
 
 292 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 sarily, Jane's eyes must also be opened, and that her 
 love in consequence must diminish. But tliis did 
 not appear to be the case. Jane still mourned 
 over her husband's absence, watched eagerly for his 
 return, planned for his happiness, sacrificed every 
 favourite wish of her own, if she had the most dis- 
 tant suspicion that by so doing she could give him 
 pleasure. Katharine marvelled at her, and the 
 more because she became convinced at last that 
 Jane was not blind as she imagined. She felt her 
 husband's faults if she did not see them — they made 
 her unhappy ; — but she loved him still devotedly. 
 Katharine thought she could not have done the same ; 
 but then she was not married. 
 
 But Katharine liad not yet reached the inmost 
 secret of Jane's disappointment. All outward 
 things could be borne, and even the gradual sub- 
 siding of her husband's first excessive fondness 
 might have seemed only the natural change from 
 over-excited feelings to calmer, yet not less en- 
 during affection. Siie was no sentimentalist, fed 
 upon romances, and believing that the honeymoon 
 of life was to last for ever — she was quite pre- 
 pared for little trials of temper and peculiarities of 
 taste ; but she had never supposed it possible that 
 from any cause her respect for him might be 
 lessened. It was long, very long, before the idea 
 had been more than a passing misgiving ; it was 
 so intensely painful, that Jane shrank from it, as 
 from a thought of sin. But it came by slow de- 
 grees ; first as a momentary pang, then a settled 
 doubt, not understood but felt v then a wearing, 
 aching pain, into the origin of which she never 
 inquired, but which was aggravated day by day, as 
 passing events showed the motives which influenced 
 his conduct. 
 
 Walking side by side through life, professing tl\e
 
 KATHAKINB ASHTON. 293 
 
 same belief, repeating the same prayers, kneeling 
 in the same church, sometimes before the same altar, 
 they were far as the poles asunder. Colonel 
 Forbes lived for this world, Jane for tlie workl to 
 come. Colonel Forbes thought only of tlie praise 
 of man, Jane of the praise of God. They could 
 agree and act together on all great points ; — there 
 is no lasting credit in these days to be obtained 
 except by a certain amount of religion, — and thus 
 Jane had been deceived. But in daily life, when 
 it became a question of strictness with the ser- 
 vants, attention to religious duties at inconve- 
 nient hours, exertion to attend church services, 
 braving the annoyance of some person of influence 
 for the sake of an act of charity to the poor, there 
 was always a falling off — very plausibly excused, 
 perhaps even upheld by specious arguments, but 
 still — Jane was far too earnest and single-minded 
 not to see it — a decided, unmistakeable turning 
 aside from the right path. That was the pang, 
 that was the exceeding grief, which none but God 
 might see. 
 
 Katharine could wonder, and pity, and love, and 
 long to comfort, as she did this day, when the dis- 
 appointment of Mrs. Forbes' life was first fully made 
 clear to her ; but she could never know the hours 
 of bitter anguish which Jane spent in her own 
 chamber, kneeling in silent, speechless anguish, and 
 dreading even in prayer to own the sorrow ot 
 her heart, since it accused her husband of sin. 
 
 It might not have been so with others. There 
 are thousands in the world who marry, and are dis- 
 appointed — disappointed even in esteem, and yet 
 live patiently and comfortably, and probably would, 
 on the whole, prefer even such a married life to the 
 loneliness of a single one ; but Jane's mind was 
 like her outward form, not constituted to bear the 
 u 3
 
 294 KATHARINE ASHTOX. ■ 
 
 roughnesses of life. " Trifles light as air," which 
 by many would have been put aside without a 
 thought, were felt by her with a quickness which 
 was actual pain. When once she had the clue to 
 the source of her husband's inconsistency, she could 
 read the worldly motive even in his best actions, 
 and so they ceased to give her pleasure ; and then 
 she became grave and silent, almost sad ; and he 
 was vexed and angry, and she, in her turn, fright- 
 ened, and shut herself up still more in her own 
 thoughts. And so the unacknowledged, unrealised 
 estrangement between them increased every day. 
 
 If Jane would scarcely allow all this to herself, 
 still less would she speak of it to any one else. A 
 great deal of the depression which she felt w^as 
 attributed by her to bad health ; and she was very 
 much outof health. She was not naturally strong, and 
 the life which she was leading tried her very much. 
 Constant dinner parties, late hours, and perpetual 
 calls for the entertainment of persons staying in the 
 house, were as much as she could have borne if she 
 had been perfectly w^ell and happy, and had at- 
 tended to nothing else. But Jane could not live a 
 life of idle luxury. Though she had given up her 
 district in Rilworth, she felt herself bound to 
 attend to the poor around Maplestead ; and she 
 had a school close to the lodge, and a clothing 
 club, and, was watchful over her children, and 
 thoughtful for the comfort and instruction of her 
 servants ; and this in addition to copying her 
 husband's letters, listening to his political pam- 
 phlets, and reading, if possible, everything, how- 
 ever dry and abstruse, which she thought might 
 be a good subject of conversation with him. 
 
 It was no wonder that she was ill. The strange 
 thing was that Colonel Forbes did not see it. But 
 he had always contidered her a delicate person, and
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 295 
 
 yet equal to considerable exertion when excited ; and 
 he did not see much change in her now, except 
 that she was thinner. How should he ? He had 
 a prospect, not perhaps very near, but still sufficient 
 to give him a constant stimulus, of being one day 
 a member of the government. He thought of very 
 little else, and Jane unconsciously encouraged him, 
 for she was quite willing to talk of nothing else. 
 
 It seems hard to bhame a man for not seeing 
 what another carefully tries to hide from him. 
 Katharine often thought she was severe in lier 
 judgment of Colonel Forbes ; and when he was kind 
 to iiis wife, and civil to herself, she always tried to 
 like him, and make excuses for him ; but there was 
 nothing but her own right feeling to soften her 
 towards him. Political feeling ran very high in 
 Rilworth about this time. Her father and Colonel 
 Forbes held opposite views upon one or two of the 
 leading questions of the day. Of course, therefore, 
 she was not likely to hear anything in his favour from 
 any of her own family ; and now that this question 
 of Moorlands and the rent had arisen, there seemed 
 likely to be a complete feud. What Katharine M^ould 
 have desired, setting aside her personal likings and 
 dislikings, would have been to l3reak the connexion 
 at once, and for John to remove to another place ; 
 but there was a good deal of reason in what her father 
 said upon the subject. Rents had risen everywhere, 
 and John might not find a farm cheaper than Moor- 
 lands, even if he left it ; and if he could once be set 
 free from the burdens he had incurred, or rather 
 which his father had incurred for him when first un- 
 dertaking the farm, he might, with care, find his in- 
 come sufficient. The next year Mr. Asliton hoped 
 would be a very successful one with himself. Jf it 
 were so he could help John; and it seemed a pity, 
 therefore, not to wait and see in what state alfairs 
 u 4
 
 296 KATIIAllINE ASIITON. 
 
 were likely to be before taking a step which could 
 not be recalled. All this had brought Katharine'd 
 judgment round to the Moorlands side of the ques- 
 tion ; and she had hoped to go at once to Colonel 
 Forbes and settle it. He was a prejudiced man, 
 but never unfair ; and, in spite of political enmity, 
 Katharine thought that the remembrance of old 
 times, and tiie long acquaintance with her father, 
 would induce him to view the case favourably. 
 It was a great disappointment to her to be obliged 
 to go back to Moorlands and say that she Ijad 
 not seen Colonel Forbes, and that nothing could be 
 decided for another week. Many important ar- 
 rangements depended upon what John w^as going 
 to do ; and Mr. Ashton had worked himself up to 
 such anxiety, that Katharine quite dreaded the con- 
 sequence of the trial of patience he w^as to endure. 
 She found him standing in the porch with John, 
 looking out for her. The children were there too, 
 but, contrary to Mr. Ashton's usual custom, he was 
 not playing with them, or indeed noticing them 
 at all ; and in fact they were in the way, and John 
 had just called to the nurse to take them to the 
 nursery. — " Well, Kitty, child !" was Mr. Ashton's 
 greeting. He was too proud to ask in plain words 
 for the answer. — " Patience, father," replied Katha- 
 rine, lightly ; " Colonel Forbes is gone to London 
 for a week." — John uttered a very impatient ex- 
 clamation. Mr. Ashton checked his irritation, 
 and only said, "UmphI" but he folded his arms, 
 and walked away by himself. John was just then 
 summoned to the fi\rm. Katharine followed her 
 father. She put her arm within his, and they 
 went into the garden, to the broad walk which 
 separated the kitchen-garden from the lawn. 
 " Only a week's patience, father, dear," said Ka- 
 tharine, gently ; " we must be contented to wait for
 
 kathaiii:ne asiiton. 297 
 
 that." — " Yes, Kitty, yes." He seemed very thought- 
 ful. — "Is it of so much consequence?" continued 
 Katharine. — " Only another week's anxiety, Kate ; 
 and there has been enough of that lately." — " And 
 I am afraid there will be enough of that to come," 
 observed Katharine ; " whether John goes or stays, 
 it will be very uphill work w^ith him." "And with 
 us all," continued Mr. Ashton ; " Moorlands has 
 cost me a pretty good penny, taking one thing and 
 another." — "I don't think we any of us care 
 much about being rich," said Katharine ; " at least 
 my mother and I don't, I am sure." — "No; and 
 there would ahvays be the business," observed Mr. 
 Ashton. " Mr. Madden was with me yesterday 
 afternoon, when you were gone, talking about Henry. 
 He wants to see him a partner very much."— "And 
 you are inclined to have him, aren't you ? " replied 
 Katharine. " He would bring in some ready money, 
 and help you a good deal ; and really, father, you 
 want help." — " Yes," replied Mr. Ashton, gravely, 
 " and I can't have it where I ought to have it. If 
 I were to go over life again I would not do as I 
 liave done." — " Not witli regard to John," said 
 Katharine ; "but, father, dear, there is no good in 
 looking back and regretting." He did not seem 
 inclined to take advantage of the consolation, but 
 went on with his ow^n thoughts. — "It was a fool- 
 ish kind of teaching the boy had when he was a 
 child, — all that petting, and humouring, and bring- 
 ing him up to think he might choose what he would 
 be. If we had only told him at once that there 
 was the shop and he must look to it, he wouldn't 
 have said what he did to me just now." — "What 
 was that ? " asked Katharine, anxiously ; dreading 
 above all things a misunderstanding between her 
 father and her brother. — "I can't blame him for 
 it," said Mr. Ashton; "it is but my own doing.
 
 298 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 But I asked liim wliat he would do if it came to 
 tlie point of leaving Moorlands, and I told him 
 that he miglit come into the shop and take the 
 partnership instead of young Madden ; and I made 
 him a very fair offer about the house. I said he 
 and Selly could have the upstair parlour to them- 
 selves, and that I would give them the spare bed- 
 room, and fit up the attic for the children ; but it 
 wouldn't do, it wouldn't do, Kitty — he can't take to 
 business ; and he said he would rather go off to 
 Australia and try his fortune there." — "Australia !" 
 exclaimed Katharine, in a tone of horror. — " Aye, 
 child, Australia," said Mr. Ashton, with a quiet- 
 ness which was more painful to Katharine than any 
 outbreak ; " and that would break your mother's 
 heart, and mine too." 
 
 Katharine was silent for a few moments. Pre- 
 sently she said, "It is all very well to talk of, but he 
 would never do it." — " He would, if it came to a 
 question between that and the shop," said Mr. 
 Ashton. "Kitty, for your mother's sake we must 
 keep him at Moorlands." — " Well, we will hope we 
 may, dear father," replied Katharine with a tone of 
 cheerfulness which she was very far from feeling. — 
 " If he stays here, he will come right in the end," 
 continued Mr. Ashton ; " if he tries new-fangled 
 plans he will be ruined." — Katharine thought in her 
 own mind, that the chances of ruin were about 
 equal in both cases; but she would not fret her father 
 by saying so, and only replied, "Well, we must wait 
 and see." — "And in the meantime I must give Mr. 
 Madden an answer about the partnership," said IMr. 
 Ashton. "I did not think he would have hurried 
 matters on so fast ; but he says he has an offer of 
 help if the affiir can be arranged, and if not he 
 must be looking out for something else for Henry. 
 I should be sorry to lose him ; he has a good head
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 299 
 
 for business, and he is honest and straightfor- 
 ward." — "Yes," replied Katharine; "I wish he was 
 not so much of a politician, he makes himself enemies 
 by it; but, however, one can't have everything." — 
 "And if one has not one side one must have the 
 other," continued Mr. Ashton. " I never knew a 
 place so cut up as Rilworth is by politics. Why 
 George Andrews and Madden don't speak now." 
 — " Their quarrel dates further back than anything 
 political," said Katharine. " They quarrelled years 
 ago at the Union Ball, and even before it." — "The 
 Dis-union Ball you mean, Kitty," observed Mr. 
 Ashton, smiling at his own wit. — " The Dis-union 
 certainly," replied Katharine, "if one may judge 
 from the two parties which date their split from it." 
 — " Very foolish it all is," observed Mr. Ashton, 
 thoughtfully; "things seem so trifling when one looks 
 back upon them." — " Trifling except in their con- 
 sequences," replied Katharine. — Mr. Ashton walked 
 twice up and down the walk without making another 
 observation; then he said suddenly, "It would have 
 been a better thing for me, Kitty, if you and Mr. 
 Reeves had taken to be friends earher." — " We must 
 be thankful that we are friends at all," replied Katha- 
 rine; " I am sure I never could have expected it." — 
 " I shouldn't like him ever to think I was forgetful 
 of what he has advised," continued Mr. Ashton. 
 " I hope, Kitty, when I am not here to look after 
 things, you will see that the subscriptions are kept 
 up as fjir as can be." Katharine did not quite under- 
 stand what he meant by not being here to look after 
 things, but she said she should always be delighted 
 to do anything he wished. "And there will be 
 enough for you to do it with," continued Mr. Ashton. 
 "There's the shop, and outstanding debts, and 
 fifteen hundred pounds in the funds; there ought to 
 have been a pretty good deal more, only " "Never
 
 300 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 mind, dear father," replied Katharine, speaking 
 cheerfully, yet with an effort, for she understood 
 now what was in his thoughts ; " when the time 
 conies tliat it shall please God to part us, my mother 
 and I shall not think much about being rich or poor, 
 you may be quite sure of that." — " You have been a 
 good daughter to me, Kitty," said Mr. Ashton. "God 
 will reward you for it." — " He has rewarded me," 
 said Katharine, stopping to kiss him. "It is a thou- 
 sand times more reward than I could ever deserve 
 to hear you say so." Mr. Ashton put his hands 
 upon her cheeks, according to an old habit, and 
 looked at her fixedly. His eyes were glistening ; 
 and when he returned her kiss, first on one side, 
 then on the other, Katharine felt a tear upon her 
 face. 
 
 " There is the chaise," she said, looking down the 
 lane to avoid noticing her father. He seemed re- 
 lieved at the interruption, and said he would go 
 into the house and say good-bj^e to his wife, and 
 Selly, and the children. Katharine thought the 
 children were asleep, and begged him, as he was 
 coming out again in the evening, not to disturb 
 them; but he could not be persuaded, and stole up- 
 stairs, according to his own notions, so quietly, that it 
 was quite impossible for them to be awakened. Clara 
 and Johnnie were lying in their little cribs, quite 
 worn out with the morning's play; their cheeks were 
 flushed with bright crimson, and their hair, with its 
 disorderly truant curls, was clustering round their 
 little calm faces. There were no traces of angry pas- 
 sions then — they might have been sleeping angels. — 
 Perhaps Mr. Ashton thought them so, for his eye 
 dwelt on them witli a tender lingering regret, and 
 when he had turned away to kiss the baby who was 
 lying in its nurse's arms^ he came back again once 
 more to the crib, and stood looking at them as if he
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 301 
 
 would fain bear their image with liim, to give him 
 quietness in the turmoil of his business. '* They 
 can't come to any harm, Kitty, it's impossible," he 
 said, in an under tone ; " if they have a silly 
 mother, they have a wise aunt." — "I am afraid 
 aunts can't do much against mothers," replied 
 Katharine, smiling. — " Where there's a will there's 
 a way," said Mr. Ashton. " I look to you, Kitty, to 
 be the poor little things' best friend. There — it 
 won't do to waste any more time with them." Once 
 more he bent over them; Johnnie just opened his 
 eyes and said, " Grandpapa," and put his arms up to 
 him, and then turned aside and was fast asleep again. 
 Clara pouted and moaned, and hid her face in her 
 pillow; — and so he left them. "You will be out 
 again, my dear, at six," said Mrs. Ashton, as her 
 husband stepped into the cliaise ; " and bring out 
 some biscuits for the children, and ask at Sawyer's 
 for a packet of his best arrow-root. Selina can't take 
 what she has, it is so bad." — "And, father, make 
 Susan tell you if any of the poor pnople from the 
 district have been up," said Katharine. — " Oh ! yes, 
 and the work, Kitty," said Mrs-. Ashton. " The work, 
 my dear," she repeated, speaking to her husband. "You 
 will find a roll of calico in the first long drawer of 
 the bureau. That will do for you, Kitty, when you 
 have made the children's frocks." — "Nothing more," 
 exchiimed Mr. Ashton, with good-humoured im- 
 patience ; " I vow if there is, you shall come in 
 and fetch it yourselves. Good-bye, Selly ; good-bye, 
 John, my boy ; keep a good heart; good-bye, God 
 bless you all." 
 
 They were the last words they heard. At six 
 o'clock that evening Katliarine was again walking- 
 down the lane, again expecting her fatlier, listening 
 again for the sound of carriage-wheels. The chaise 
 came up the Rilworth road, and she saw it turn the
 
 302 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 sharp corner into the lane which, though improved, 
 was still rough, and always associated in her mind 
 with the accident which had befallen her on her 
 first visit to Moorlands. A heavy waggon was in the 
 way. Katharine saw there was very little room to 
 pass, yet fancied that her father would be sure to 
 get by ; but the new pony became frightened and 
 restive, and reared ; and Katharine rushed forward, 
 not knowing what she was going to do ; and the 
 wheel of the chaise became entangled with the 
 heavy wheel of the waggon, and one of the great 
 waggon horses became frightened too, and — Katha- 
 rine never quite knew in detail what happened next ; 
 but there was a terrible confusion with the waggoner 
 and his boy, crying for help, and her father calling 
 to her to come and hold the pony. And then, 
 just as she was about to seize its head, the pony 
 gave a desperate plunge, the chaise was upset, 
 her father thrown out violently, with his head 
 against a stone, — and when Katharine knelt beside 
 him — he was dead. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Gloom was in the streets of Rilworth ; the prin- 
 cipal shops were shut, and many faces were grave, — 
 many sorrowful and compassionate, — whilst the 
 heavy clang of the tolling bell gave warning that 
 one, a companion and friend, was about to be carried 
 to his grave. 
 
 Mr. Ashton had been much respected ; he had 
 been associated with all the chief events in the 
 little town for the last tive-and-twenty years.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 303 
 
 Persons had learnt to think that his advice was 
 necessary; that without liis judgment difficulties 
 could not be satisfactorily arranged ; and, of late 
 years, more than respect had been attached to his 
 name ; he had shown himself a kind and unselfish 
 friend, and a liberal benefactor to the poor. He 
 WAS followed to his last home with blessings; and 
 those who knew most intimately the workings of 
 his secret heart prayed that, when their summons 
 should come, tliey also, like him, might have made 
 their peace with God. 
 
 These were soothing thoughts, even to Katharine, 
 as she sat that day by her mother's bedside, thank- 
 ful that the torpor of opiates had given a short 
 respite from the restless feverish anguish which had 
 been Mrs. Ashton's trial for the last week. 
 
 Katharine was strangely altered in that short 
 time ; she could even see it herself. She bad grown 
 so old, — the lines of her features were so deeply 
 indented, her eyes were so dim and dark; — but she 
 was quite quiet and self-possessed — she had been so 
 from the beginning. She had known exactly what 
 to do, and to order ; she had never troubled her 
 mother with a single question, yet had arranged, 
 even to the minutest particular, according to what 
 she knew would be her wish ; whilst it seemed to 
 Mrs. Ashton as if she was never left. Katharine 
 was at hand, by night as well as by day, to whisper 
 soothing words of hope, — to suggest the duty of 
 faith and submission, — to lead the troubled, broken 
 heart to the rest which, stunned by sorrow, it 
 scarcely knew how to seek. How all this was done 
 Katharine could not tell. She had indeed kind 
 friends ; Mr. Reeves was with her often ; and Jane 
 made herself so much at home at Moorlands, that 
 she was allowed to enter the house at all hours, 
 and make her way unnoticed to Katharine's room,
 
 304 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 and remain there as she chose, without its being 
 thought necessary on either side to make an apology 
 for intrusion or neglect. But the real support 
 was nothing earthly ; it was a strength beyond 
 her own, beyond any human power, which upheld 
 her. For Katharine was like one in a dream. 
 Comfort was taken mechanically, — even offered by 
 herself mechanically. She did not feel that she had 
 any feeling, — she knew what was to be done, and 
 she did it, without tears or any outward expression 
 of grief. Only at last, when the calm summer 
 breeze brought to her from aftir the first sound 
 which told that it was the day of her father's 
 funeral, she burst into tears, and the weight of a 
 heavy cloud seemed to pass away from her mind. 
 
 Selina came in to see her ; and this was something 
 of comfort, for Selina, though not sensible or 
 useful, — that she never could be, — was softened, 
 and in a degree sympathising ; and she could help 
 Katharine a little, by sitting with Mrs. Ashton 
 whilst Katharine refreshed herself in the garden. 
 She was come to offer this now. Katharine 
 thanked her with a smile, and a whisper of 
 gratitude, and then she took her prayer-book, 
 and went out. The broad walk was the best place 
 for exercise ; but she could not go there, it liad 
 been her last happy walk ; besides, her thoughts 
 were away in the churchyard at Rilworth. She 
 was, in fancy, standing beneath the old yew tree, 
 where her grandfather and her grandmother had 
 been laid, and where her father was now to rest ; 
 she was listening to a voice repeating, " I am the 
 resurrection and the life, saith the Lord ;" and she 
 longed to kneel alone, and rest her weary heart 
 with the same blessed words. And so she went to 
 a small summer-house which was used as the chil- 
 dren's playroom, where she could lock the door, and
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 305 
 
 be quite to herself, and sit or kneel unperceived, 
 and see from the narrow window the tower of 
 Rilworth Church, and listen for the last toll which 
 would give notice that the service was begun. 
 
 It was all gone through. Katharine liad prayed, 
 that when she herself should depart this life, she 
 might rest in Christ, and be found acceptable in 
 His sight on the morning of the Resurrection ; and 
 still she knelt, in tranquil thought of that bright 
 reunion which was to restore to her the affection for 
 which her soul was yearning. Tears came very 
 fast now, but they were not bitter. She could read 
 great mercy in the present, terrible though it was. 
 She could trust in it for the future ; and, though 
 she could not tliink of anytliing very distinctly, there 
 was a sure loving confidence and submission granted 
 her, which was like the peace of sleep to her worn 
 spirits. After a time she rose up from her prayers ; 
 but still she lingered at the little window, unwilling 
 to lose the sight of the old church tower, which was 
 more a home to her now than anything else could 
 be. She heard voices about the farm, and knew 
 that one was John's. He was especially dear to her 
 just then, for their grief was in common ; and she 
 forgot all his follies when she was trying to comfort 
 him, though it was often painfully forced upon her 
 that she w^as the person to whom all looked for 
 advice and support ; and that he, who ought to have 
 been everything as the head of the family, was com- 
 paratively nothing. 
 
 Thinking that he would come into the garden to 
 look for her, she went out to meet him ; but the 
 voices she had heard must have been in the farm- 
 yard, for no one was in the garden except the 
 nurse with the children. Katharine had not seen 
 the little ones before that morning. They ran up 
 to her directly : — " See, aunt Kate, new frocks !" and 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 they pointed to their black dresses. Katharine 
 turned from them, unable even to kiss them. A 
 choking, hysterical feeling rose up in her throat, 
 and she walked very quickly up and down the 
 gravel path, trying to overcome it; now and then she 
 stooped and gathered a flower, but she would not 
 let herself think or look about — it was only by a 
 strong physical effort that she could hope to master 
 herself. She had reached the laurel hedge between 
 the lawn and the kitchen-garden, and turned again. 
 Some one — a man — came along the cross path to- 
 wards her. She fancied it was John, and did not 
 look at him particularly till he came nearer; then 
 there was a second glance, and Katharine saw that 
 it was not John, it was Charles Ronaldson. She 
 was startled, yet scarcely surprised, after the first 
 moment, for she had known he might come at any 
 time. Her impulse was to go into the house, she 
 was feeling so ill and weak ; that, however, would 
 have been unkind; and she could not be so to 
 him who for years had been so kind to them. 
 Besides, — it was a very vague memory which came 
 over Katharine at that moment — something that 
 brought back to her a time of sadness, which yet 
 was scarcely sadness, so little there had been of real 
 grief in it, — but it made her feel gently and kindly 
 towards him ; and she was grateful, that after so long 
 a separation, he had come to visit them now in their 
 trouble. He had lost all his shy, odd manner, 
 and came up and shook hands very warmly ; and 
 she kept back the struggling tears, and spoke 
 calmly, and told him that she was very thankful 
 to see him ; she had often been thinking of him 
 lately, and her mother and John would find it the 
 greatest possible comfort to have him with them 
 now. " He had hoped that might be," he said, 
 ■*' and, therefore, he had made his arrangements to
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 307 
 
 come away as soon " He stopped. — " It was very 
 
 like you." said Katharine, gratefully ; " you always 
 knew how to put aside your own wishes." — " They 
 were not put aside at all in this case/' he said ; 
 " my wish was to come !" — " To give us comfort," 
 replied Katharine; " we want it very much! But 
 won't you go in and see my mother, or at least let 
 me tell her that you are come, and prepare her for 
 seeing you ? And John, too, must be told." — 
 " John knows that I am here," he replied ; " I was 
 at Rilworth with him." — " Were you !" and Katha- 
 rine's glistening eyes sparkled with a little of the 
 expression of former days. " Then you were pre- 
 sent." — " Yes, present at the service ; I came on 
 purpose ; that is, I only arrived about six this 
 morning. There was no time to come on here 
 then." They walked on some paces silently, and then 
 Katharine said, " Certainly there are times when 
 we learn to value true friends." His countenance 
 changed, but she did not see it ; and, after a mo- 
 ment's consideration, he said, " I am glad you will 
 look upon me as a friend ; it has been my wish for 
 years to prove myself such." — " Thank you," said 
 Katharine, offering him her hand ; " my father 
 always considered you one." He was relieved to 
 find that she could mention her father, and con- 
 tinued the conversation more easily. Katharine 
 told him a great deal of what had taken place 
 which he did not know before, and his sympathy 
 led her on to the expression of her own feelings, 
 and all that had softened the blow to her — those 
 sacred hopes, which perhaps are never more care- 
 fully hidden from the general view than when some 
 great shock would at first sight seem necessarily to 
 call them forth to light. Charles was gentle, and 
 kind, and put her quite at her ease. There was 
 nothing in his manner to recall the past, at least
 
 308 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 nothing that she would have noticed ; indeed, the 
 remembrance was scarcely present to her after the 
 first moment. The conversation, and the walk, and 
 the fresh air were so quieting to her mind, that 
 she would willingly have remained with him much 
 longer ; but her mother would be wanting her, and 
 she knew that she must go. Besides, it would 
 be necessary to prepare Mrs. Ashton for seeing 
 Charles. He was wishing himself to find John ; 
 his stay, he said, must be very short, and even 
 on that day it would be necessary to talk of 
 business. To-morrow," he added, " I am engaged 
 with the Duke of Lowther's business, and the day 
 after I must return." — " So very, very soon," said 
 Katharine; " and when we have been looking for 
 you so long ? But I forgot !" — " Forgot what ?" 
 She blushed a little from the dread that she was 
 alluding to a subject he might dislike, and an- 
 swered, ambiguously, " I forgot how much you 
 must have to occupy your thoughts. It has been a 
 great satisfaction to us to hear of the success you 
 have had." — " Thank you," he replied ; but he did 
 not pursue the subject, and only added, " May I ask 
 if you are returning to Rilworth ?" — " I think so," 
 replied Katharine ; " at least for a time. I have not 
 talked about anything with John yet, he has not 
 been able to bear it ; indeed, we have none of us 
 been able. I have not any notion myself what 
 is to be done, but my mother has said once or twice 
 lately that she should like to be at home." — " We 
 must see where her home can be most comfortable," 
 replied Charles. "You will not mind my saying 
 we, I hope, as if I was one of yourselves ?" — " Oh, 
 no, noT exclaimed Katharine. " I am only too glad 
 that it should be w'e." — Again he seemed checked, 
 but it was only for a moment, and he went on, 
 " John said a little to me just now about the future.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 309 
 
 He has a notion — I don't know, of course, wliether 
 it would be a practicable one, that Mrs. Ashton 
 would like to remain at Moorlands." — "Live with 
 John and Selina ! Oh, no! impossible!" exclaimed 
 Katharine, her natural impetuosity overcoming the 
 sobering influence of her grief. — " He seems very 
 anxious about it," continued Charles, quietly. — " It 
 would not do," was Katharine's reply. '" My mother 
 could not live with Selina." — " Not without you, 
 perhaps," he observed.—" Nor with me," replied 
 Katharine; "I should be more likely to mar than 
 to make, in that case." — " Perhaps other persons 
 may judge better than yourself," replied Charles. 
 " Your brother seems to have no fear ; he is, in 
 fact, much bent upon the idea." — " He has never 
 suggested it to me," observed Katharine, with a little 
 impatience of manner ; then, vexed with herself, she 
 added, " But I would do whatever is right." — " Yes, 
 I was quite sure, thoroughly convinced, you would. 
 I told your brother that if, upon consideration, it 
 seemed the most feasible step, there could not be a 
 doubt of your acquiescence." Katharine felt again 
 as if she ought to have been consulted before her 
 brother and Charles Ronaldson formed plans for 
 her ; and a little pride rose up in her heart, which 
 helped her, for a few minutes, to continue the 
 conversation in a cold, business-like way. But it 
 could not last. Charles Ronaldson was so entirely 
 considerate, and even deferential to her wishes, 
 she could not be proud with him. Conscience re- 
 proached her, and made her more bitterly sorrowful 
 than she would have been from any other sorrow ; 
 and in order to bring herself round to a right 
 frame of mind, she tried to throw herself more 
 heartily into the plan. 
 
 A change must be made ; that she saw, when 
 Charles had talked to her a little. At first she had 
 
 3
 
 310 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 entertained a hope that she and her mother might 
 make arrangements with Henry Madden, or with 
 any one who might take the business, so as to 
 remain in the okl house. This would satisfy her 
 mother, Katherine felt ; and it was certainly what 
 she most wished for herself; she was so fond of Ril- 
 worth and her district, and so thankful to be near Mr. 
 and Mrs. Reeves. But the expense she now saw 
 would be more than they could afford, and the house 
 was too large for them ; and, besides, the shop 
 could not well be separated from it ; and if it were, 
 the plan would materially lessen the value of the 
 business if it were sold. The plan which had 
 suggested itself to John w^as, that Henry Madden 
 should take the shop, just as it was, and carry 
 on the business, giving Mrs. Ashton and Katha- 
 rine a fixed sum for a certain number of years 
 out of it. Charles was a little fearful of the plan, 
 thinking that if the business were to decrease, it 
 would be an injury to them; but John was per- 
 fectly certain of Henry IMadden's fitness for the 
 position, and felt it would save a great deal of pre- 
 sent inconvenience. Besides, it had been a plan 
 once suggested by his father, when talking over the 
 chances of the future. This consideration weighed 
 with Katharine more than any other. She had a 
 great opinion of her father's wisdom in worldly 
 matters, and any word of his now assumed a sacred 
 importance in her eyes. Nothing, however, could 
 be settled without talking to Mrs. Ashton ; nor 
 until Charles had gone over the farm, and decided 
 whether the plan of remaining there all together was 
 feasible.
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 311 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 The evening of that day was misty and rather 
 cold. It was late in the summer, and there was an 
 autumnal feeling in the air. Jane wrapped her 
 ehawl closely round her, and walked up and down 
 the avenue at Maplestead waiting for her husband. 
 He was to come alone, but in two days' time a large 
 importation of visitors was to arrive. Jane was 
 thankful to have him to herself if only for two 
 evenings ; yet slie was a little nervous at the pro- 
 spect of his arrival, for she had made up her mind 
 to speak to him upon business. When Katharine 
 Ashton talked to her of Moorlands, and asked her 
 to write to Colonel Forbes about the lease and the 
 rent, she had a good excuse to herself for declining; 
 but she was not thoroughly satisfied, she fancied 
 that she had been a coward. The feeling was 
 deepened now, for all Jane's sympathies were ex- 
 cited. Katharine's interests had become hers, 
 doubly, trebly, in that week of sorrow. Whatever 
 she could do for her she felt must be done, at any 
 sacrifice of her own feelings. And what had she 
 to fear ? Why did her heart sink at the thought 
 of introducing an unwelcome subject and receiving 
 an ungracious answer ? Words were but words ; 
 and if her husband were annoyed it would not be 
 on account of any real fault on her part. So Jane 
 reasoned with herself; and so perhaps almost all 
 reason at some time or other. There is no real 
 cause for dreading to say disagreeable tilings, and 
 yet perhaps there is nothing from which people so 
 often shrink ; and thus those who are apt to show 
 annoyance and impatience, become in a way tyrants, 
 X 4
 
 312 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 not because they mean to be so, but because the 
 persons with M'hom they live are cowards. Jane 
 went through the conversation in her own mind 
 many times; saw exactly how her husband would 
 look, heard exactly how he would speak. There 
 would be a knitting of the brows first, then an im- 
 patient tapping upon the table or the mantelpiece 
 with his fingers, then the beginning of a sentence 
 to interrupt her, then an ominous stillness, and at 
 the end a mental pushing away of the subject, 
 evidenced by a hasty, " My love, it can't be ;" and 
 after that "would come an impenetrable mood, 
 which was worse than any passion ; a mood in which 
 he spoke quite civilly to her, but said only just as 
 much as was necessary, and vented his open irri- 
 tation upon things in general. The only tiling to 
 arouse him from these moods was excitement. Per- 
 haps the arrival of his visitors might be of use in 
 this instance ; but even then Jane was not sure that 
 he would soon make friends with her again, — he did 
 did not always do so. 
 
 She feared all this, yet she longed to see him, and 
 grew nervously anxious when he did not come in 
 time. Mr. Ashton's accident frightened her, and 
 every now and then fearful thoughts came over her 
 of the sorrow there might be in store for herself. 
 Her love for her husband was very great then ; 
 what might it not have been if he had proved him- 
 self all that she had once fondly expected ? Jane 
 liad been saved from a great danger, though she 
 was not aware of it. The tendency of her mind 
 was to idolatry ; it was a most Merciful Hand which 
 was loosening the tie that might have bound her 
 for ever to earth. She heard the lodge-gates open 
 and the carriage drive up the avenue, and when it 
 came near the coachman stopped. Colonel Forbes 
 looked out and nodded to her ; but he did not offer
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 313 
 
 to alight and walk with her, and she did not ask 
 him. They met upon the hall-steps, with the usual 
 rather hurried kiss. Colonel Forbes was full of 
 indignation about the railway people. "They had 
 been so provokingly negligent," he said ; " he had 
 actually lost a carpet-bag; and he had been detained 
 in Rilworth to write and make inquiries about it." 
 And two or three times he went over the history of 
 where he had last seen the bag, and speculated upon 
 whose fault it was. Jane listened, and was ex- 
 tremely sorry, and hoped he would not vex himself; 
 and when his anger had a little subsided he stood 
 warming himself with his back to the fire, which 
 she had ordered to be lighted for him in his study, 
 and asked her how she had been getting on — 
 " Tolerably," was Jane's reply. " There has been 
 a good deal to try me." — " Try you, my dear ?" 
 He looked very much surprised. " What do you 
 mean ? " — " Only the accident," said Jane ; " Mr. 
 Ashton's accident, you know ; I wrote you word." 
 — "0! yes, I remember — very shocking indeed. 
 Poor Ashton ! Well!" — he did not quite like to say 
 at once v/hat was in his thoughts ; but it came out a 
 very few moments afterwards : "the Protectionists 
 will find his loss at the next election." — Every one 
 will find it, I think," said Jane ; "he was such a 
 very useful person, and so honourable and sensible." 
 — " Yes, he was a good fellow in his way," said the 
 Colonel. " Is not dinner ready, Jane ? " — " It was 
 not ordered till seven/' replied Jane, " and it is only 
 a quarter-past six." — " A very foolish arrangement," 
 he observed testily ; " I wrote you word to expect 
 me at six." — " Yes, but there are so often delays," 
 said Jane, gently ; " and I thought you would not 
 have time to dress comfortably. Besides, I was 
 not sure that you might not after all bring a 
 friend with you, and then we should have been
 
 314 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 very much hurried." — " I Avish, my dear, you would 
 learn to believe that I mean what I say. T told 
 you I should come alone at six o'clock. Dinner 
 ought to have been ready at half-past six." — " I am 
 very sorry," said Jane, meekly ; " perhaps it can be 
 hastened." — *' And spoilt !" exclnimed the Colonel. 
 "No; if we are to wait, let us at least have a dinner 
 we can eat." He threw himself into an arm-chair, 
 and Jane sat down opposite to him. — " Shall we 
 have the children down?" she asked; "there will 
 be just time if they are not in bed." — He made no 
 answer, but rang the bell. When it was answered 
 the servant brought word that Mr. Ronaldson would 
 be very glad to speak with Colonel Forbes if he was at 
 leisure. The Colonel looked up impatiently : " Mr. 
 who?" — "Mr. Ronaldson, sir."— "The Duke of 
 Lowther's agent for the north," said Jane quietly. — 
 " Oh I let him come up." The servant retired. — 
 " What can possess people to trouble one at this 
 hour ? " continued the Colonel. " He is a friend of the 
 Ashtons, isn't he, Jane?" — "Yes, a great friend," 
 replied Jane ; " he is here, I suspect, on purpose to 
 
 advise them " " Then he had better advise John 
 
 Ashton to pay more rent, or leave the farm ; there 
 is nothing else will serve him." — " Must it be quite 
 such an increase?" asked Jane, timidly. "It will 
 come hard upon them now." — " My dear, 1 must beg 
 you to leave those matters to me ;" and of course 
 Jane was silenced. — " I suppose I had better leave 
 you to talk over your business by yourselves," she 
 said ; " so I will go and get ready for dinner." He 
 did not take any notice of her. If he had she would 
 have followed her natural impulse, and kissed him 
 in remembrance that they had only just met ; but 
 she wanted encouragement, and that he never gave. 
 She went to her room and dressed for dinner, and 
 then sat down to read, but without being able to
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 315 
 
 attend, her thoughts were wandering so much to 
 Katharine, and all she must have been feeling that 
 day. It was by Katharine's own wish that she had 
 not gone to Moorlands to see her. There were likely 
 to be strangers in the house, friends and connexions 
 who had been present at the funeral, and Katharine 
 felt for Jane what Jane would not have felt for her- 
 self, and did not wish to put her in the way of meet- 
 ing persons she did not know. 
 
 The conversation with Charles Ronaldson lasted 
 very long. The second dinner-bell had rung before 
 Jane heard her husband enter his dressing-room. 
 She had learnt to interpret even the way in which 
 he shut his door, and she augured no good from its 
 quick closing and the sliding of the bolt. She 
 joined him when he came out of his room, and they 
 walked down stairs together ; and just before they 
 went into the dining-room she ventured to ask 
 whether Mr. Ronaldson's business was of much 
 importance. " We will talk about it by-and-by," 
 was the reply ; and Jane blamed herself for indis- 
 cretion. They had a silent dinner, partly because 
 the men-servants were in the room ; partly, also, 
 because Colonel Forbes gave such very short an- 
 swers, that Jane did not know how to continue any 
 subject. When, at last, the dessert was placed upon 
 the table, and they were left alone, Jane thought 
 she might once more allude to the subject so much 
 in her thoughts. "You told me," she said, "that I 
 might hear something of Mr. Ronaldson's busi- 
 ness."— "Did I, my dear? it was nothing that 
 concerns you." — "Oh!" Jane looked blank; and, 
 after an instant's pause, added, by way of apology, 
 "I did not think it concerned me, but I fancied 
 it might have had something to do with tlic Ash- 
 tons." — " People are most strange in these days," 
 exclaimed Colonel Forbes ; " what possible reason
 
 316 KATHAEIXE ASHTOX 
 
 can there be for my granting any special favour to 
 John Asliton ?" — "Only the remembrance of 
 ' auld lang syne,' I suppose," suggested Jane. — 
 "I don't know anything about 'auld lang syne,' 
 as you call it, Jane. I believe you have some sen- 
 timental remembrance of it, which makes you 
 patronise Miss Ashton ; but I must beg to say that 
 I have none myself, and if I had I should not 
 sacrifice the interests of the country to a foolish 
 weakness." Jane did not at all know what to say 
 next; but, finding lier husband silent, she remarked 
 that Mr. Ronaldson was such a very sensible, 
 judicious person, she should not have imagined 
 he would have made any unreasonable request. 
 She said this merely because she did not wish to 
 change the conversation suddenly, as though she 
 were annoyed. Colonel Forbes, however, took it 
 up sharply : " I wish, Jane, you would not misun- 
 derstand in the way you so constantly do. I never 
 said that Mr. Ronaldson made an unreasonable 
 request, or John Ashton, or any one. It may be 
 all perfectly reasonable, but I may not be inclined 
 to grant it." — " Certainly not," replied Jane ; but 
 even then she did not dare ask what the request 
 was. It was mentioned, however, at last. " Ro- 
 naldson urges me to give John Ashton a trial at 
 Moorlands for a year, before lie takes a lease at the 
 increased rent," said Colonel Forbes. — " Oh ! that 
 was what Katharine wanted," exclaimed Jane. 
 Her husband turned round upon her instantly: 
 " Then, my dear, why did you not tell mc so ? If 
 you and Miss Ashton have been putting your 
 heads together to plan the arrangement of my 
 property, why not do me the favour to let me 
 know what you have decided upon?" — "Oh! 
 Philip," exclaimed Jane reproachfully, " you know 
 that is wrong ; you know, quite well, that I never
 
 KATIIAKINE ASHTON. 317 
 
 plan or decide upon anything unknown to you." — 
 "I beg your pardon/' he replied, coldly ; " I thought 
 I understood you to say that the idea had been 
 mentioned to you." — "Yes, just mentioned in the 
 course of conversation," said Jane; "that is," — 
 and she blushed, for conscience reproached her 
 with equivocation — "Katharine told me what they 
 
 wished, and asked me to write to you, but " 
 
 "But what?" asked Colonel Forbes, sarcastically.— 
 " I did not like to trouble you ; I was afraid ! " said 
 Jane, still following the impulse of her most truth- 
 ful mind, to say exactly what had been her motive. 
 Yet she trembled, and not without cause. That 
 word "afraid" touched a dangerous chord — one 
 which from the very first beginning of their 
 affection had produced a jarring note. "Afraid!" 
 he reptated. " I am a tyrant then ; my wife is 
 afraid of me ; she cannot give me the most trivial 
 confidence! She can talk over my private affairs 
 with her female friends, with Miss Ashton, the 
 bookseller's daughter, but she cannot come openly 
 to me and tell me what it is of impL.'tance I should 
 know." He pushed aside his plate, rose from his 
 chair, and paced the room. Jane thought she could 
 speak, but she tried, and her voice failed her; and 
 receiving no answer, he went on in the tone of a 
 man who has been deeply injured. "You may 
 think it of no consequence yourself, Jane, to keep 
 up this stiff reserve between us ; no doubt it does 
 signify but little to you. My interests, I know, are of 
 very slight consequence to you, except so far as they 
 affect your own personal comfort ; but I must take 
 the opportunity of warning you, that you will do 
 yourself and me material injury by persisting in 
 this habit of keeping back everything from nio, and 
 making me a stranger in my o>vn house." Jane's 
 humble self- upbraiding spirit made her seize upon
 
 318 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 the shadow of truth contained in this accusation, 
 and she said, she knew she was cowardly, but she 
 could not have thought, in the present instance, that 
 it could possibly be of consequence to him to know 
 what had passed between Katharine Ashton and 
 herself. — " Everything is of consequence to me," he 
 repeated, his voice a very little softened ; " I 
 wish to know everything ; I have told you so re- 
 peatedly. You can be no judge what is of impor- 
 tance to me and what is not." Jane could not in 
 the least understand what she had done ; but accus- 
 tomed to be misconstrued, she had learnt how to 
 behave so as not to irritate him further. So, 
 without requiring an explanation, she only re- 
 marked that she should be wiser for the future. 
 " You don't see the Avorking of things," he con- 
 tinued, mollified by her gentleness ; " it is one 
 thing to say quietly to Katharine Ashton, through 
 you, that the thing can't be, and therefore it had 
 better not be formally asked ; and another to have 
 to refuse point blank a man like Ronaldson — an 
 old inhabitant of Rilworth— a man of influence. It 
 gives me the character of a hard landlord ; it sets 
 people talking ; it does me harm in a thousand 
 ways. I wish, with all ray heart I wish," he added, 
 " that old Ashton had been at the Antipodes before 
 he made such a fool of me as to persuade me to let 
 a good farm upon those absurd conditions." — "I 
 did not know there were any conditions," replied 
 Jane. — " Not that if John Ashton chooses to stay, 
 and to pay the rent, I am bound to renew the lease?" 
 said Colonel Forbes. — " No, I did not know it," 
 replied Jane ; "I never thought about inquiring into 
 such things." — " Perhaps it might have been better 
 if you had," he replied sharply. " If Ashton chooses 
 to remain upon my terms, I can't say ' No' to him. 
 It was a promise given when he touk Moorlands.'*
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 319 
 
 Jane still could not see why this should vex him ; 
 and as his first irritation seemed to be subsiding, 
 she ventured to ask him why he was so desirous 
 that John Ashton should not stay. " When I 
 stand as member for the county, which I certainly 
 shall do at the next dissolution of Parliament, John 
 Ashton's vote will be against me," was the reply. 
 Member for the county ! that was a totally new 
 light to Jane. She might well have retaliated now 
 upon him for want of confidence, but she was too 
 humble and charitable for that, and she merely 
 replied, that she had never understood before that 
 he had any idea of the kind. — " Then you know it 
 now, my dear ; and it will teach you, I hope, how 
 necessary it is to keep back nothing from me. 
 Either I refuse John Ashton, and have Mr. 
 Ronaldson talking about it to every one, and the 
 world crying out upon me ; or I keep him at Moor- 
 lands, and nourish an enemy at my own door. If I 
 had only known the matter through you, I might 
 have stopped it before it came to this." — " I am 
 very sorry, very sorry, indeed," said Jane, though 
 she could not see how any confidence on her part 
 could have prevented such a state of things. She 
 rose to go upstairs to the drawing-room — her hus- 
 band opened the door for her — she waited for an 
 instant, and there was a movement as if she half- 
 expected a kiss of reconciliation — but it was not to 
 be. Colonel Forbes was in a mood. Every one 
 who has experience of moody people will know 
 what that implies. No one who has not can 
 imagine it, even from description.
 
 320 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Jane did not see Katharine again at Moorlands for 
 some time. The day after the funeral ]Mrs. Ashton 
 expressed a strong wish to go back to Rihvortli, and 
 she was not in a condition to be thwarted. Charles 
 Ronaldson, much to his own inconvenience, agreed 
 to remain another day, in order to be with them, 
 and help them ; and he hoped also, by this delay, to 
 bring their plans for the future into some definite 
 form before his departure. If this were not done, 
 he saw only interminable worry for all, especially 
 for Katharine. Every one could wish, but no one 
 could decide. Mrs. Ashton was bent upon living in 
 the old house ; Katharine inclined to the notion of 
 going into a smaller one in Rilworth. Selina 
 harped upon the necessity of remaining at Moor- 
 lands, under all circumstances ; John declared it 
 was impossible at the increased rent which Colonel 
 Forbes demanded. When Charles was with them, 
 his good sense and judgment, and kind sympathy, 
 brought gentleness and harmony ; and, notwith- 
 standing the necessity of discussing business, the 
 day of the funeral itself passed off peacefully. But 
 the next morning Charles went off early to Rilworth 
 Castle, and almost immediately afterwards Mrs. 
 Ashton became restless and fretful, — fancied that 
 there was a plan for keeping her at Moorlands 
 against her will, and preventing her return to the 
 old house, and insisted, as has been said, upon an 
 instant removal. Katharine was not sorry for the 
 change — Moorlands was very trying to her. Selina 
 was most provokingly selfish in argument; and the 
 painful disturbance of the household during last
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 321 
 
 week had made the children more unruly than ever. 
 Her chief regret was for John, who looked very 
 anxious and unhappy, and was bewildered by the 
 new circumstances in which he found himself 
 placed. Katharine was much touched by his 
 manner just before they parted; his chief comfort 
 would be taken away, he said, when she was gone, 
 and he had no heart to set to work at anything, it was 
 all so uncertain. He wished Selly could make up her 
 mind to leave Moorlands at once, only he did not 
 know what they should do then ; — go to Australia 
 perhaps, he could see nothing else for them. 
 Katharine v/as for a moment startled at this re- 
 appearance of an idea which she had hoped at first 
 was merely a discontented fancy ; but she knew her 
 brother well enough not to oppose him directly, and 
 warded off the subject by remarking that they should 
 all see their w^ay clearly, she had no doubt, in a few 
 days ; and in the meantime they must be thank- 
 ful they had such a friend as Charles Ronaldson 
 to advise them. " Yes," said John emphatically ; 
 " there isn't another like him to be found in these 
 parts, or anywhere that I ever heard. Oh ! Kate, 
 
 how could you ever ? " But Kate stopped him : 
 
 " We won't talk about that, John, dear ; it is best 
 not." She hurried upstairs to tell her mother that 
 the fly was at the door ; perhaps she felt that it was 
 better not to think as well as not to talk. 
 
 Very sad was that return to the old house. If it 
 had not been for the constant attention which her 
 mother required, Katharine would have given way 
 entirely under the trial. So like, yet so different 
 everything was from what it had been ; and it was 
 not a fortnight since that the world had seemed to 
 be going on as quietly, as if it could never change ; 
 or as if, when it did change, it would be by smooth, 
 imperceptible degrees. Katharine had never realised 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 322 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 to herself the possibility of any great shock in her 
 life, it had been so even in its tenor hitherto ; but 
 now it seemed as if something strange and fright- 
 ening might come upon her at any moment. Her con- 
 fidence in the stability of things had been shaken ; 
 and, to add to the sudden rush of grief which came 
 upon her continually, when she was quite unpre- 
 pared for it, she felt herself nervously incapable 
 of looking steadily upon the future, or of forming 
 any plans which depended upon things remaining as 
 they were. She had a feeling now that nothing 
 could continue. Mr. Reeves came to visit them in 
 the course of the afternoon, and soothed her a good 
 deah Her mother also liked to see him ; he read to 
 her, and talked to her, and that not in a general 
 way, but individually. He told her little things 
 about her husband, which no one but himself 
 knew; — instances of Mr. Ashton's kindness to 
 persons in trouble ; remarks he had made, and 
 questions he had asked, which showed a heart 
 thoroughly repentant for its many sins and negli- 
 gences, and resting its hope of acceptance upon the 
 only sure Foundation. Mr. Ashton had been very 
 reserved to his own family in all that personally 
 concerned himself, but he had talked to Mr. Eeeves 
 much more freely ; and though Katharine's tears 
 fell bitterly, when she thought that opportunities 
 for mutual sympathy upon these subjects were lost 
 to her for ever in this world, the result of the con- 
 versation was to quiet and strengthen her mind, 
 and render her more able to face the trials which 
 might be before her. 
 
 Tea-time when it came was very overpowering, 
 both for herself and her mother. It was impossible 
 not to look at the shop-door, and think that it was 
 going to open ; and there was the great chair placed 
 where Mr. Ashton used to sit, and Katharine could
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTOX. 323 
 
 not bear to put it aside ; and yet it looked so in- 
 describably mournful, almost awful, she was quite 
 glad when the servant came in, and accidentally put 
 it out of its place; she could not have moved it 
 herself. After tea, things were a little better ; her 
 mother began to work for the children at Moor- 
 lands, making up some common frocks out of an old 
 black gown which slie had by lier, and this rather 
 occupied her attention ; and she did not, as Ka- 
 tharine had feared she might, talk about the 
 house, and insist upon remaining in it. About 
 eight o'clock she was quite worn out, and went to 
 bed ; and then Katharine sat down to try and collect 
 her own thoughts, and form a judgment as to what 
 was to be done ; a task quite impossible when, as 
 had happened that day, every minute some person 
 or duty claimed her attention. 
 
 If it had been necessary to think only for her 
 mother and herself, a decision would have been 
 easy enough — they must take a small house in 
 Kilworth, and either sell the business entirely, 
 or give it up to Henry Madden, with the agree- 
 ment of receiving a certain sum from the profits. 
 The latter plan would not have approved itself 
 to Katharine's judgment, though, as having been 
 proposed by her father, it would to her feelings, 
 except for one reason ; — all the property of every 
 kind was left to Mrs. Ashton during her life- 
 time ; and Katharine, conscious of her mother's 
 weak affection for John, was afraid of the conse- 
 quences of putting everything she possessed within 
 her reach at any moment. If John should be in 
 difficulties, Mrs. Ashton would be certain to hel[) 
 him at whatever sacrifice to herself, or even to Ka- 
 tharine ; and unselfish though Katharine was, both 
 by nature and habit, she could not but see that this 
 might in the end bring ruin upon all- As long as 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 they had a yearly income from the shop, however 
 small, there would be something for them to depend 
 upon, even in the event (which was very probable) 
 of John's coming upon them for more help than he had 
 already had. His own share in his father's property 
 was very nearly gone. It had been sunk in setting 
 him up in the farm, and assisting him since he had been 
 carrying it on ; but he was now in a great degree 
 free from debt; and if he would only be wise and 
 careful, and attend to Charles Ronaldson's instruc- 
 tions ; and if Selina would cease to be a fine lady, 
 and give up her greenhouse, and her gay parties, 
 and look after her servants, and work for her chil- 
 dren, and superintend the domestic affairs of the 
 farm, everything might be well. But all this was 
 doubtful, perhaps in Katharine's eyes rather more 
 than doubtful ; and the large increase of rent which 
 John was called upon to pay would in that case 
 completely crush him. Katharine could not help 
 feeling vexed with Colonel Forbes for driving them' 
 to a decision so quickly. If he could have been 
 content to leave things as they were for one more 
 year, they would have had time to judge correctly ; 
 but now, with the necessity of coming to a con- 
 clusion at once, they were almost certain to make 
 a mistake. Katharine thought over the business 
 vaguely at first, and could not see her way out of the 
 difficulties at all ; but then she became more metho- 
 dical, and set herself to consider, first, what they 
 must not do. Certainly they must not remain in 
 the old house — that was put aside ; certainly John 
 must not stay at Moorlands unless he could see his 
 way to the payment of the increased rent ; certainly 
 it would be a great expense to go from Moorlands ; 
 certainly John w^as just as likely to fail in another 
 farm as he was in that one ; and certainly, also, he 
 was not fitted for any other kind of business, espe-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 325 
 
 cially not for trade. All these points were quite 
 clear to her mind, therefore it was clear also, that 
 Moorlands would bo likely to prove the best place, 
 if the rent could be paid. There was but one way 
 of managing that point. Katharine was very un- 
 willing to believe it ; but the more she thought the 
 more she was convinced that Charles Ronaldson's 
 proposition was the only feasible one for all. She 
 and her mother must go to Moorlands; they must 
 pay John a certain sum, as they would have done 
 if they had taken another house, or gone into 
 lodgings. Mrs. Ashton would superintend a great 
 deal of the in-door work of the farm, to which 
 she had been accustomed in her youth ; Katharine 
 would take care of the children, and save expense 
 by working for them, and would endeavour to 
 check her brother when he was inclined to be ex- 
 travagant, and urge him to exertion when tempted 
 to be indolent; and so, by all joining together, they 
 might hope to go on with tolerable comfort. Katha- 
 rine could not promise herself anything more, she 
 so very much disliked the plan, and saw so many 
 difficulties and disagreeables in the way of its 
 execution ; but it really did seem that to leave John 
 to himself just at this moment would be leaving 
 him to ruin, and that would be far worse for them 
 all than any annoyances which might be caused by 
 the union of the two families. When once Katha- 
 rine's judgment was convinced she was in a degree 
 at rest. She could face any trouble when it was 
 definite ; and her good sense and strong religious 
 feeling soon made her acquiesce in the plan, not 
 as agreeable, but as necessary, and therefore, no 
 doubt, intended to act in some way for their highest 
 benefit. Her mother, she thought, would demur to 
 it at first ; but there was a good deal to tempt iter 
 in the plan, especially the idea of helping John 
 Y 3
 
 326 KATHARINE ASIITOX. 
 
 and having country occupations. It certainly wa.-^ 
 strange to herself to see how her opinions had 
 changed since first the idea was suggested ; but that 
 fact gave her a most useful lesson in self-distrust. 
 She had naturally very good judgment, and lately 
 she been accustomed to be so consulted, that she 
 was in danger of depending upon her own opinions 
 and her first impressions too much. To see that 
 others had brought forward a plan contrary to lier 
 own, but which was likely to be the best in the 
 end, was a very useful discipline. Besides, there 
 was a great deal to be thankful for in the arrange- 
 ment ; family union first, then usefulness, to say 
 nothing of the comfort of a country home and the 
 satisfaction of being near Maplestead. Katharine 
 could not feel haj^py, or look forward to any plea- 
 sure, but she could be grateful ; and her last 
 thought, when she laid her head upon her pillow, 
 was of the "Mercy which had followed her all the 
 days of her life." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Charles Ronaldson came early the next morning. 
 He was to leave Rilworth at eleven o'clock. Ka- 
 tharine and he had a long conversation together 
 before ]\Irs. Ashton was down stairs. Katharine 
 put before him the result of her reflections of the 
 previous evening, and received the sanction of his 
 judgment. He was only afraid of two things ; one, 
 that Mrs. Ashton might be induced to spend more 
 money upon John than was just and reasonable; 
 the other, that Katharine herself would be worn 
 out by the constant claims upon her time and ex- 
 ertions. They both fore-saw tliat when Selina had
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 327 
 
 a person with lier able and willing to take from 
 her the care of her children and her household, she 
 would become more indolent and absent than ever. 
 The only consolation, as regarded the new plan, 
 being, that she was not likely to be much better 
 under any other circumstances. The same argu- 
 ment held good as to the probability of Mrs. 
 Ashton's ruining herself by assisting her son. She 
 would be as likely to do it if they lived separately 
 as if they were together ; and Katharine hoped, by 
 constant care and Avatchfulness, to put a stop to 
 the petty daily expenditure which Charles Ronald- 
 son feared. 
 
 And so they talked for a long time upon matters 
 of mere business ; both as calmly, and apparently 
 as unconcernedl}'- as if no storm of suiFering had 
 ever passed over their heads. No one would have 
 supposed that Charles Ronaldson had ever enter- 
 tained a feeling for Katharine beyond that of 
 hearty regard ; and her manner was so entirely un- 
 constrained, her thoughts so engaged by her home 
 interests, that it was evident the very memory of 
 the past days had for the time been blotted out. 
 But the parting hour drew near. Mrs. Ashton 
 was not quite ready to come down and say good- 
 bye to him, as she wished ; and Katharine went 
 to help her, for she was afraid tliat Charles might 
 be late for the London train. When she returned 
 she found him standing by the mantelpiece, his 
 head buried in his hands, and lost in thought. 
 "My mother will be ready in less than ten 
 minutes," she said; "can you wait? I think 
 there is time if you have nothing else to do." 
 He took out his watch: "I think there will be a 
 quarter of an hour. I left my visit to you till 
 the last." — "That was very good of you," said 
 Katharine. "My mother will be very sorry not to 
 
 T 4
 
 328 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 have seen more of you ; she would not have stayed 
 in bed this morning if I had not forced her to it, 
 fearing to miss you." — " I am very thankful to have 
 been able to come," he said, " and I shall be very 
 anxious to hear how you are getting on." — " I must 
 write and tell you if we are in difficulty," said 
 Katharine. The words were foUow^ed by a slight 
 blush; she had spoken without consideration, and 
 the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she had 
 been forward; but then he Avas an old and tried 
 friend, and engaged to be married, and she could 
 not bear to think — she would not allow herself to 
 think — that there was any reason why they should 
 not be perfectly free with each other. " Would you 
 really write?" he began eagerly; but the sentence was 
 ended coldly, as he added, " You could not do me 
 a greater favour." Katharine was a little pained ; 
 perhaps she had really been too forward, and he did 
 not like it; and, as an indirect excuse, she said, 
 "You are such a very old friend, and I don't know 
 whom else I could apply to." — "I should have sup- 
 posed Mr. Reeves might have been of use to you," 
 he replied in the same chilling tone. — "In som<i 
 things; yes, in some," replied Katharine; "but not 
 in these business matters. Of course, though, I 
 will not trouble you unnecessarily." She did not 
 know whether he heard the latter part of her speech, 
 for just then her mother came in, and Charles went 
 up to her to shake hands, and ask how she was. 
 Katharine was so uncomfortable at the change in 
 his manner, that for an instant she forgot her usual 
 attention to her mother, and thought only of herself. 
 So silly and wrong it seemed in her to speak hastily, 
 as she often did ! Naturally enough he would think 
 it strange that she should be the one to propose a 
 correspondence, and yet she really meant nothing 
 by it, nothing at all. If she had meant anything,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 329 
 
 she could not have spoken so freely. Time was 
 passing quickly, and Charles had but a few minutes 
 to spare, and these were engrossed by Mrs. Ashton. 
 He did not think it wise just then to enter into any 
 detailed plans for the future ; but he told her, that he 
 had been over the farm at Moorlands with John, and 
 had looked into his accounts, and the result was that, 
 with care, he thought John might do well there, if 
 between them they could provide the increased 
 rent. At any rate he was not worse off there than 
 he would be elsewhere, supposing he still persisted 
 in farming. Mrs. Ashton was much relieved at this 
 opinion. Of all things she disliked changes, and just 
 now they would have been peculiarly painful to her. 
 She could not help feeling as if Charles had in some 
 active w^ay been instrumental in bringing about 
 such a satisfactory idea, and her gratitude was most 
 cordial. It had been a very great comfort, she 
 said, to see him ; and not to her only, but to John 
 and Selina, and Katharine, to all of them indeed ; 
 he had done for them what no other person could 
 have done just then. "And now you are going," 
 she added, as he took up his hat, " and we shan't see 
 you again till one can't say tlie time when." — " It 
 will not be so very long," he replied ; " at least, I hope 
 not. There is likely to be business for me in this 
 part of the would before long." — " Indeed ! and then 
 we may hope that you will bring some one else to 
 see us," said Mrs. Ashton, with a mournful attempt 
 to speak cheerfully, which Katharine was afraid 
 miglit end in a burst of tears. "My motlier is 
 always talking of coming," said Charles, "but the dis- 
 tance is very great for a person of her age." — " If 
 
 you will bring her to us " began Mrs. Ashton ; but 
 
 the sentence was stopped by a remembrance that 
 she might not have a house of her own in wiiich to 
 receive a guest, and she sobbed hysterically. Katha-
 
 330 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 rine was very much distressed for her, and almost as 
 much so for Charles, who was impatient to go, and 
 yet could not bear to leave her in such a state. 
 Katharine brought her a glass of water, and after 
 drinking a little she grew more composed, and 
 tried again to resume the subject: "Kate and I 
 shall be most glad to see your mother, wherever we 
 may be, Charlie; tell her that from us. But I 
 was not thinking so much of her, — there will be 
 another Mrs. Ronaldson, won't there, before long?" 
 Charles turned deadly pale, and he really could not 
 speak. Katharine came to his assistance: "You 
 must forgive us, Mr. Ronaldson; we cannot help 
 being interested in all which interests you ; but 
 you shall tell us about it at your own time ; only," 
 she added, shaking hands with him warmly, " we 
 wish you so much happiness." Katharine's voice 
 was singularly firm, almost unnaturally so; there 
 w^as not any feeling at all in it, unless it might 
 have been the effort to repress feeling. Charles ap- 
 peared in a manner stunned; he just said, "Thank 
 you, thank you, good-bye ; " and then it seemed to 
 strike him that he had been remiss, and he came 
 back again to Mrs. Ashton, and begged her to let 
 him hear of anything he could do for her. " There 
 is his pencil-case; he has left his pencil-case, Kate," 
 said Mrs. Ashton, as the door closed. Katharine 
 hurried after him : " Mr. Ronaldson, your pencil- 
 case; you have forgotten it." He turned at the sound 
 of her voice, and his face was almost ghastly in its 
 expression. " Good-bye, once more," said Katha- 
 rine. — He kept her hand : " Miss Ashton — only one 
 word — did you really think I was going to be mar- 
 ried?" — "Yes, indeed." Katharine's heart beat 
 very quickly, and, angry with herself — she did not 
 know why — she added, "we were very glad to 
 hear it." That was a sharp pang of conscience
 
 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 331 
 
 which followed. The words were not strictly true; 
 but Charles could see nothing of the inmost heart, 
 and, dropping her hand abruptly, he said stiffly, " I 
 will ask you to contradict the report j" and they 
 parted. 
 
 Katharine went back to her mother. Mrs. Ash- 
 ton had eaten no breakfast, and Katharine tried to 
 persuade her to take a cup of coffee, and said she 
 would make it herself in the parlour. " Thank 
 you, my dear ; you don't look at all well yourself 
 this morning," was Mrs. Ashton's reply ; " won't 
 you have some too?" — "No, thank you, mother, dear," 
 replied Katharine ; " I made a very good breakfast 
 at eight o'clock;" and, turning away from Mrs. Ash- 
 ton's scrutinising gaze, she busied herself in going 
 in and out of the room to fetch what was wanted, 
 and in stirring the fire, and putting on coals, for it 
 was a chilly morning and almost autumnal, though 
 the season would have been called summer. Mrs. 
 Ashton did not talk very much ; she did not seem 
 to have much heart for business, and probably did not 
 like to disturb herself with the idea of the change 
 which no doubt she felt in her secret heart might 
 soon be necessary. Katharine did not sit down at 
 all ; and at last Mrs. Asiiton grew fidgety, and said 
 she could not bear such incessant movement — if 
 Katharine had things to do upstairs she had better 
 go and see about them, and leave her to herself; 
 she would try and work a little at the children's 
 frocks. Katharine gave her her workbox, and 
 threaded several needles for her; and then, kissing 
 her, and begging her to be sure and ring the mo- 
 ment she wanted anything, went away. And most 
 thankful she was to go — to be alone. She did not 
 think it would have been possible to remain under 
 that restraint of feeling much longer, for she was so 
 lonely, so unhappy ; all the old grief hud come upon
 
 332 KATHARINE ASHTON' 
 
 her, and with a new bitterness. There was no one 
 now to soothe her and thoroughly sympathise witli 
 her. The one person who could have done so was 
 gone — quite gone, for ever it might be. Tiie 
 great distance between them was like for ever ; and 
 she could not write to him now, a barrier was be- 
 tween them — he was free. At that thought a feel- 
 ing of gladness, which shocked and pained her, rose 
 up in her heart. She would not own it to herself at 
 first ; but she was very true with herself— she never 
 wilfully trifled with even the slightest suggestion 
 of conscience, and presently she returned to tlie 
 feeling and examined it. What made her feel glad ? 
 Selfishness, vanity — so at least she said to herself 
 She liked still to be first in his eyes — she would wish 
 to be so even at the expense of his happiness. It 
 was a very humiliating confession. Katharine felt 
 as if for the first time she was learning the deceit- 
 fulness of her own heart. But how much she had 
 to be thankful for ; how much the mistake under 
 which she had been labouring had helped her during 
 the last few days ! With her present wrong, silly, 
 vain feelings it would have been impossible to have 
 been quite at her ease with Charles as she had been. 
 And she could understand now why he seemed to 
 dislike the idea of her writing to him. Certainly it 
 would have been an odd thing to offer if they had 
 stood to each other in the same position as formerly ; 
 but he would perceive now how it happened that 
 she ventured to propose such a thing ; that was 
 one comfort; she would be re-established in his good 
 opinion if she had in any degree lost it. The very 
 satisfaction however which this idea gave was a 
 fresh cause for Katharine's self-condemnation. She 
 said to herself that she cared too much for his good 
 opinion ; it was vanity still, and she was sure he 
 would be shocked at it ; for in this last conversation
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 333 
 
 he had given her the impression of being even more 
 strict and severe in his judgment of right and wrong 
 than he was in the old times. As to his retaining any- 
 feeling for her it could not be, he was quite altered. 
 He had evidently no thought of anything but busi- 
 ness all the time he was with them ; and yet at the 
 very minute Katharine said this, there was a lurking 
 feeling of the contrary, which she instantly tried to 
 stifle. All these conflicting notions were very un- 
 safe for Katharine, they made her think of Charles 
 Ronaldsonmore than was at all desirable for her peace 
 of mind, or even her moral well-being. Nothing 
 which makes us concentrate our thoughts upon our- 
 selves can be good for any length of time, and self- 
 examination is of all things the most likely to de- 
 generate into morbid self-consciousness, if it is not 
 carried on in a strictly religious spirit. It was 
 happy for her that active duties v/ere at hand to 
 force into active thought ; yet even then there was 
 the aching at the heart, the perpetual recurrence of 
 some thought connected with him, the involuntary 
 listening for his voice when the door-bell rang, with 
 the absurd hope that something might have detained 
 him, and he might be returned to wish them ano- 
 ther good-bye. All this was worse than grief ; it 
 lowered her in her own eyes, for she was constantly 
 resolving to think of something else, and constantly 
 breaking the resolution. Fortunately for Katharine 
 she was not likely to be noticed whatever she might 
 be thinking or feeling ; there was too much to 
 make her unhappy for it to be a matter of surprise 
 if she seemed so ; and though Mrs. Ashton several 
 times during the day remarked how ill she looked, 
 she always accounted for it, and added : " And in- 
 deed, my dear, no wonder !" 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and they went to 
 church in the afternoon. JNIrs. Ashton bore it bet-
 
 334 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 ter than Katharine expected, and the effort enabled 
 her to rally her spirits a little. She was more her- 
 self afterwards ; and v/hen John walked in from 
 Moorlands, as he did about five o'clock, intending to 
 go to church at Rilworth in the evening, Mrs. Ash- 
 ton was almost cheerful, and liked to hear about 
 Selina and the children, and said she hoped to be 
 able to see them aojain soon. This seemed rather 
 an opening for introducing the proposed change ; 
 but it happened to be nearly the time for evening 
 service, and Katharine did not like to disturb the 
 Sunday quietness by bringing forward an agitating 
 subject ; and it was agreed therefore between John 
 and herself that it should be mentioned to her the 
 following day. John was indescribably relieved 
 himself at the possibility of remaining at Moor- 
 lands, and Katharine thought it was as much for 
 the sake of domestic peace as for his own comfort. 
 Selina's wishes were so very strong upon the point 
 that she was not likely to leave him any peace until 
 it was settled her way. So far Katharine was glad 
 that Selina would look upon their living at Moor- 
 lands as a help and not a trial, which she very pro- 
 bably would have done under other circumstances. 
 
 The world was to begin in its old way on Mon- 
 day morning. Katharine felt this bitterly. There 
 was no excuse to be made any longer for not seeing 
 persons if they chose to call, and business could 
 not be put aside as it had been ; but if duties were 
 necessary, the only satisfactory way of performing 
 them was to begin vigorously, and Katharine stifled 
 her sorrow and steeled her heart, and immediately 
 after breakfast entered with her mother upon the 
 question of a removal to Moorlands. 
 
 How strange it is — what cowards we are,in spite 
 of the lessons of faith which are so continually 
 given us ! Katharine introduced the subject ti-
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 335 
 
 midly, dreading a long argument. She had not 
 said more than a few sentences, when she found 
 her mother not only willing, but even anxious to 
 second the proposal. It had suggested itself to her 
 own mind. Perhaps when away from Moorlands 
 she missed more having the opinion and judgment 
 of a man to lean upon ; or it might be that she was 
 cheered by the presence of the children ; or, more 
 likely still, the actual return to the old house had 
 convinced her that she never could be happy in it 
 again. Bo this as it may, Katharine's difficulties 
 melted into thin air when once she grasped them, 
 and all that remained was to determine the lesser 
 questions as to the disposal of the shop, the furni- 
 ture, &c. These, at least, were the public ques- 
 tions. There were many peculiar only to Katharine, 
 which harassed her a good deal. The district was 
 one. She could not bear to give it up, and yet she 
 felt that it must be done. Five years before, in her 
 eagerness to embrace every opportunity of useful- 
 ness, she would have determined upon keeping it, 
 trusting to be able so to arrange her occupations as 
 to visit it every week ; but experience had taught 
 lier many lessons, and, amongst others, that in at- 
 tempting too much we seize upon work not in- 
 tended for us, and in consequence accomplish no- 
 thing well. If she was to be useful at Moorlands, 
 she could not also be useful in Rilworth. Mrs. 
 Forbes, with the advantage of more leisure, and the 
 command of carriages and horses, had tried it 
 and failed, and Katharine, therefore, could not 
 hope to succeed. It did not follow that she might 
 not see her poor people, and interest herself about 
 them ; but this would be different from undertaking 
 an actual responsibility. Besides, it was evident 
 that the Providence of God was preparing for her a 
 new sphere of duty. Her business, therefore, was
 
 336 KATHAFJXE ASHTOX. 
 
 to do her best with that, and not to look with 
 lingering regret upon one which it was His Will to 
 take from her. And there were other sacrifices 
 involved in the removal from Rilworth which none 
 but Katharine herself could understand. She had 
 gathered around her, within the last few years, 
 several young persons in her own position in life, 
 to whom she felt that her advice and assistance 
 were very useful, and these must now be left in a 
 great degree to themselves ; and tliere were others, 
 more of her own standing in age, but rather superior 
 to herself in worldly rank, whose society had often 
 given her both pleasure and profit. Some she was 
 accustomed to meet at district meetings, or when 
 some opportunity occurred for her being asked to 
 drink tea at Mr. Reeves' ; others she had been 
 introduced to by Mrs. Reeves herself. They had 
 greatly influenced and enlarged Katharine's mind, 
 partly by conversation, and partly by lending her 
 books, which every one seemed anxious to do, when 
 once it was known that she was fond of reading. 
 It was sad to think that all this must novv' be given 
 up — that she must content herself with Selina's 
 frivolous observations upon dress and the weather. 
 If it had not been for her acquired habit of study 
 she would have felt it even more ; but reading was 
 a much less effort now than it used to be, and the 
 society of books she might always hope to have. 
 Mr. Reeves would lend her any which he had, and 
 the Miss Lockes were great readers, and were 
 always anxious to send her anything interesting 
 wliich came in their way. Betsy Carter, too, 
 though absurd in some respects, was sensible 
 enough in others, and had often given Katharine 
 very good advice as to books ; and Katharine in- 
 dulged an idea now, which before had not seemed 
 necessary, that of joining a book society, so that
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON, 337 
 
 she might always have the opportunity of reading: 
 without being dependent on the charity of her 
 friends. How much she felt the value of Mr. 
 Reeves' advice, when he made her take home the 
 volumes of travels to finish ! That had been tlie 
 beginning of a habit which was now to be an in- 
 calculable comfort to her. If she had waited till 
 the present time to begin, her mind would have been 
 So ill -trained to attention, and the cares of life 
 would have pressed so heavily upon her, that in all 
 probability she would have found it no relief, but 
 only a painful effort to read steadily. 
 
 Katharine could see all this in the midst of her 
 great grief and her many anxieties. Hers was a 
 bright, hopeful mind, always looking out for the 
 "silver lining" to the cloud; and even when the 
 aching pain, the sense of loneliness, and the self- 
 reproach which had been present with her since 
 Charles Ronaldson's departure, were the most wear- 
 ing to her spirits, she had still thoughts and words 
 of cheering comfort for her mother, and for herself 
 the privilege of kneeling in her own chamber, and 
 telling her troubles to Him who was always near to 
 listen to them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " I AM going into Rilworth this afternoon, Jane," 
 said Colonel Forbes, on the Wednesday after Mr. 
 Ashton's funeral ; " Have you any business there ? " 
 Jane felt as if she must have, if it were only for 
 the prospect of a drive with her husband alone. 
 For the last two days the house had been full of 
 gentlemen visitors, and she had seen nothing of 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 him. Colonel Forbes happened to be in particularly 
 good humour that morning-. He had been listening 
 to some judiciously administered flatteries: very 
 judicious they were, he could not endure open 
 praise ; but he liked to be consulted and deferred to, 
 in manner however, more than in words, for he was 
 extremely fastidious, and, as is the case with most 
 persons who are so, he piqued himself upon it. He 
 thought it proved his good taste, and never for a 
 moment supposed that it could be a mask for ill- 
 temper. It had been suggested to him formally that 
 morning that a seat for the county was more befit- 
 ting a man of his fortune than to be member for the 
 borough. The idea exactly chimed in with his own, 
 and he did not make any foolish attempt to conceal 
 it. He said he should wish it ; and he and his parlia- 
 mentary friends had spent the morning in making 
 calculations as to the probabilities of success, which 
 were very satisfactory. Colonel Forbes was anxious 
 to tell all this to his wife — she was his safety-valve ; 
 he had no fear of appearing vain in her eyes and 
 being misunderstood, and so lie was very glad to 
 seize upon the opportunity of a drive intoRihvorth, 
 short though it was, for a tete-a-tete; and Jane, 
 only too happy whenever he expressed the least 
 inclination for her society, went to dress for her 
 drive with a lighter heart than she had had for 
 many days. " Where do you wish to go, ray dear ?" 
 was Colonel Forbes' first question, as he seated 
 himself by her side. — " To a good many places," 
 replied Jane, " if there is time ; but if not, perhaps 
 we had better drive at once to Mrs. Ashton's, if 
 you don't care. I must see Katharine if I can ; 
 she and her mother went off from Moorlands so 
 suddenly." Colonel Forbes' brow was a little over- 
 cast at the mention of the name of Ashton ; but he 
 only told the servant rather impatiently to stop at
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 339 
 
 Asliton the bookseller's, and reminded Jane that 
 he should be in Rilworth but a very short time, so 
 she had better not stay too long with Miss Ashton 
 if she had any shopping to do. Jane very much 
 wished to continue the subject, in the hope of ob- 
 taining from her husband something satisfactory as 
 regarded Moorlands, but they were at peace at the 
 moment, and she could not bare to disturb such 
 rare and happy repose. She led the conversation,, 
 therefore, back again to the former topic — the pro- 
 spect of Colonel Forbes' becoming member for the 
 county. He had with him a list of the votes which 
 he felt certain he could command in his immediate 
 neighbourhood, and he gave it to Jane to read. 
 " There are a good many more doubtful ones," he 
 added ; " but I wish to reckon only certainties." — 
 "What name is this?" asked Jane, pointing to one 
 which was written opposite to that of Moorlands 
 Farm. Colonel Forbes bent down to look. " That?" 
 He hesitated a little. " Oh ! Andrews ; he is a 
 cousin of George Andrews. He wants the farm, 
 and I think I shall let him have it ; he is quite 
 a sound man." Jane was perplexed, and, after 
 a short pause, asked, though very timidly, " Is it 
 really certain, then, that John Ashton is going 
 to leave Moorlands?" — "Certain, if I am to be- 
 lieve what people say," he replied testily ; " Ro- 
 naldson told me Ashton could not afford the rent, 
 and I can tell him he won't stay there if he can't." 
 — "Oh!" was all Jane's answer; she could not 
 again touch upon the dangerous ground of the 
 year's delay. 
 
 They were then very near Rilworth. Jane was 
 sorry that the drive was so short, and said so ; and 
 her husband was touched by her warm expression 
 of feeling, and especially by the hearty way in 
 which she had entered into his schemes, and once 
 z 2
 
 340 KATHAEINE ASHTON". 
 
 or twice called her his darling, apparently -with the 
 fondness of his first affection. This was indescrib- 
 ably sweet to poor Jane, for it was rarely that 
 she heard such words ; — all the past was forgotten 
 in a moment, as if it had never been, and even 
 his faults were not thought of. When she felt that 
 he really loved her, how could she remember any 
 thing painful ! He had business at the Post-office, 
 and at one or two other places where she could go 
 with him. She could not help him in any way, 
 and the business was not in the least likely to in- 
 terest her, and he knew that she wished to have as 
 much time as possible for Katharine Ashton ; but 
 now that he was in good humour he did not choose 
 to part from her. So, instead of allowing her to go 
 in and see Katharine at once, he merely went him- 
 self into the shop, gave some orders he wanted, and 
 insisted, good-humouredly, but still in a way which 
 admitted of no refusal, that Jane should drive with 
 him to the Post-office, and the other places to 
 which he wished to go at the further end of the 
 town. Then, if she liked, she might manage, he 
 said, a little shopping, whilst he went to see Mr. 
 Andrews, and make her way to Mrs. Ashton's as 
 the last thing ; and there the carriage might call 
 for her. It was just the most disagreeable, incon- 
 venient arrangement for Jane that could have been 
 proposed. It wasted her time, shortened her visit 
 to Katharine, and gave her a long walk, which was 
 likely to be too much for her strength, and would 
 probably tire her, and render her unfit for enter- 
 taining her visitors in the evening. She did say 
 to him that it was rather far from Mill-place, 
 where he proposed she should stop, to the top of 
 High-street ; but there was some difficulty about 
 her having the carriage, as it interfered with 
 a plan of his for taking Mr. Andrews with him
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 341 
 
 to see Mr. Somebody-else, who was likely to be a 
 staunch ally ; and Jane, always disliking to make 
 difficulties, put her own comfort aside instantly, 
 and said, that no doubt she should manage very 
 well. " You won't find it as far as you think, my 
 dear," was Colonel Forbes' comforting reply ; and 
 the order was given to drive to the other end of 
 the town. They went to the Post-office, to the 
 Bank, to the Town-hall, to the solicitor's office; 
 the precious moments were diminishing fast, 
 they were obliged to be at home again at half- 
 past four ; yet Jane did not even look impa- 
 tient. At last they stopped at Mill-place, where 
 a dressmaker lived whom Jane sometimes em- 
 ployed. Here at length she was set free; but 
 before they parted Colonel Forbes took out his 
 watch and made Jane compare hers with it : — 
 " You are five minutes too slow, my dear;" but that 
 won't signify. I give you three-quarters of an hour 
 from this time, then the carriage shall call for you 
 at Ashton's." — " Might it not be an hour ? " asked 
 Jane ; " I shall never finish all I have to do else." 
 — He pointed to his watch : " Three-quarters of 
 an hour will bring it just to four o'clock. We 
 must be at home certainly by half-past ; it ought 
 to be earlier. I have an appointment, as you know." 
 Jane looked disappointed ; she really could not help 
 it. " You had better put off* seeing Miss Ashton 
 till another day," said Colonel Forbes, as he re- 
 marked her manner ; "you will only tire yourself 
 by walking so far, and you are quite fagged as it 
 is." Jane was frightened ; in another moment she 
 knew he would insist upon her doing as he sug- 
 gested. She did not say that she must see Katha- 
 rine, or that she intended to do so, for that would 
 have made him contradictory ; but she laughed and 
 promised to take care of herself, and observed that 
 z 3
 
 342 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 slie could cut short her shopping if it v/as necessary ; 
 and, as he was in a hurry to go to Mr. Andrews, he 
 was not inclined to stay and argue the point with her. 
 
 The dressmaker was gone out, but was expected 
 to return immediately — that delayed Jane at least 
 ten minutes ; and then she found there had been 
 some stupid mistakes about the children's frocks, 
 and the consequence was a long discussion ; and 
 when she left the dressmaker she was obliged to go 
 to a shop which was near to purchase a toy she 
 had promised little Lucy ; so that at last, even by 
 giving up everything else that she wished to do, 
 and walking as fast as possible, she found that only 
 ten minutes, or at the utmost a quarter of an hour, 
 would remain for Katharine. 
 
 She did walk very fast, choosing back-streets, 
 that she might not be noticed, or meet any one she 
 knew. Her breath was very short, and her heart 
 beat with a most oppressive quickness ; but Jane 
 was accustomed to that, especially of late. Even 
 going up the broad shallow stairs at Maplestead was 
 sometimes more than she could quite bear. She 
 went on, only thinking of Katharine, and knowing 
 that she could rest when she was with her ; but on 
 reaching Mrs. Ashton's door she felt indescribably 
 ill ; she did not know Avhat was the matter, but she 
 had only just strength to ring the bell, and lean 
 against the wall for support. The servant opened 
 the door, saAV her ghastly face, and, very much 
 frightened, ran back to call Katharine. Jane was a 
 little recovered by this momentary rest; but the 
 fearfully rapid beating of her heart took from her 
 the power of utterance. Katharine asked no 
 questions, but led her into the parlour and made 
 her lie down on the sofa, and Mrs. Ashton brought 
 her sal-volatile. Jane several times tried to make 
 an apology for intruding upon them, but her head
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 343 
 
 was quite dizzy. She did, however, contrive to snj 
 at last that she had been walking too fast, — it was 
 nothing but that ; and then she sat up a little, 
 and tried to look as if nothing was the matter ; but 
 the hollow indentations under her eyes, and the 
 sallow lines around her mouth showed that there- 
 was something very much the matter, — more, a 
 great deal, Katharine was sure, than merely a 
 momentary illness from walking too fast. That was 
 not the time, however, for inquiry. Katharine's 
 ready tact made her feel that Jane would be better 
 just then by having her thoughts drawn off from 
 herself, and, Mrs. Ashton having left them to them- 
 selves, she begun, though it was a great effort to 
 her, to talk of their own affairs. Jane was all 
 interest in a moment, anxious to know how Mrs. 
 Ashton had been since their return home ; how 
 she had borne the going to church on Sunday ; and 
 especially — a question which Jane put indirectly, 
 but which was of more consequence than any other — 
 what they intended to do for the future. Katharine 
 was very open upon this subject, as she was upon 
 almost all others, with Jane. There was such a 
 peaceful feeling of trust when conversing with her, 
 that it was quite rest to tell her all their plans. To 
 remain at Moorlands, she said, was considered the 
 best thing for her brother, and as this could only be 
 managed by his having some assistance from his 
 mother, it was settled that they should all live there 
 together. Another lease therefore would be taken 
 for five years. Her mother, she added, talked of 
 removing to Moorlands finally in about a fort- 
 night's time ; the business was to be taken by 
 Henry Madden, who w^ould bind himself to give 
 them a certain yearly income out of the profits 
 of the shop. Katharine was eager in explaining 
 all this, and giving the reasons for their deter- 
 z 4
 
 344 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 mination ; and especially she wished to make 
 Jane feel that they had no unkind feeling against 
 Colonel Forbes for his refusal to accede to the 
 year's delay. She was in consequence so engrossed 
 in what she was saying, that she did not at once 
 perceive the change in Jane's countenance when she 
 heard it mentioned as a settled thing that John 
 Ashton would remain at Moorlands. She noticed 
 however, after a little while, that Jane looked ill 
 again, and begged her to have some more sal- 
 volatile, or a glass of wine. Jane declined every- 
 thing ; there was nothing the matter she said ; 
 and, turning Katharine's attention from herself, 
 she asked, in what she meant to be a very un- 
 concerned tone, whether the plan of their all living 
 together at Moorlands was perfectly fixed. " Yes," 
 was Katharine's reply ; " as far as anything can be. 
 But, dear Mrs. Forbes, why do you ask ? don't you 
 think it a wise arrangement ?" Jane was infinitely 
 perplexed, and hesitated to answer. "If you see 
 any objections," continued Katharine, " it would be 
 very kind in you to mention them now, whilst 
 • there is yet time to draw back. Would you advise 
 us to alter the arrangement ? " No, Jane could not 
 in conscience do that ; it was so clear, so indisputably 
 clear, from what Katharine had told her, that no 
 other plan was likely to be safe ; but she tried to 
 avoid an answer. She could not be a judge, she 
 said ; Katharine must have friends much better 
 calculated to give an opinion. — '' Perhaps so," said 
 Katharine, a little disappointed ; " but there is not 
 one I should care for as much ; that is, except," — 
 and she coloured a little, — " except Mr. Ronaldson's, 
 and he is quite satisfied that it is the best thing 
 to be done." — " Oh ! then, be contented," exclaimed 
 Jane, rejoiced to escape the necessity of giving her 
 own judgment; "whatever ]\Ir. Ronaldson says
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 345 
 
 will be best, is so, you may be quite certain of that." 
 — " He is a very prudent person, and knows a great 
 deal about farming," observed Katharine, speaking 
 with consideration. " He says that if John were to 
 remove to another farm the cost of moving would 
 probably swallow up the difference of rent for a year 
 or two, even if he could find a cheaper farm than 
 Moorlands, which we do not any of us think he could 
 do. Our old objection," she added, " used to be, that 
 the house was too large ; but if my mother and I live 
 with him that will in a great measure be done 
 away." — "It does seem very feasible," observed 
 Jane, not liking to show anything like deficient 
 interest in that which just then was so important 
 to Katharine. " And you will be near me," she 
 added, with one of her sweetest smiles, " and we can 
 go shares with the poor people; it will be very 
 nice." There was the very least effort of manner 
 still, but Katharine was always trusting ; she never 
 weighed the words and looks of those whom she 
 truly loved. Mrs. Forbes was the last person whose 
 affection she could in the least doubt ; and though 
 she noticed her restraint, she still attributed it 
 entirely to illness. "You must not tire Mrs. 
 Forbes, Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Ashton, coming 
 again into the room, just as they were about to 
 begin a different subject. — " The carriage will be 
 here in a minute ; I think I hear it," said Jane, 
 accustomed to the sound of the wheels. Katharine 
 went into the passage to look. "Yes, here it is! and 
 Colonel Forbes, and Mr. Andrews in it." Jane's 
 heart sank. She was still feeling extremely unwell, 
 and these political acquaintances were at all times 
 extremely fatiguing to her, because she was afraid of 
 not showing them sufficient attention to satisfy her 
 husband or themselves. She drew her shawl round 
 her and put on her bonnet with a lingering wish to
 
 346 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 delay what was just then so disagreeable, the neces- 
 sity of being civil to the obtrusive Mr. Andrews. 
 " I can't say I look very beautiful," she said, smiling, 
 as she glanced at her own wan face, and arranged her 
 hair by the little, long, old-fashioned glass over the 
 mantelpiece. — "I don't know what Colonel Forbes 
 will think," said Mrs. Ashton ; "I am afraid ho will 
 say that Kitty has been tiring you out. But I hope, 
 my dear ma'am, that you will take care of yourself 
 when you get home. You really ought to rest well 
 this evening." — " My mother will have no peace till 
 she hears how you are," said Katharine affection- 
 ately ; " and indeed I think she is right. Will you 
 please not talk much to Mr. Andrews, if he is go- 
 ing back to Maplestead with you ? " — " If you will 
 please prevent him from thinking me very rude, if I 
 am silent," replied Jane, with a playful smile ; " but 
 now I really must go ; good-bye ; " and she shook 
 hands cordially with Mrs. Ashton. " Good-bye, 
 dear Katharine ; I must see or hear something of 
 you again before long." Her step, usually so light, 
 and yet so full of energy, was now weak and slow ; 
 and Katharine looked anxiously after her as she 
 seated herself in the carriage. — "There are some 
 people who seem too good for this world," said Mrs. 
 Ashton, sighing, as she took up her work. Katha- 
 rine did not immediately reply, and no one would 
 have perceived the connection that really existed 
 between the silence which then followed, and the 
 question put, as if accidentally, more than an hour 
 afterwards. — " Mother, did you say that that thin, 
 sallow-faced woman, who came begging this morn- 
 ing, looked as if she had a heart complaint ? "
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 347 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYII. 
 
 Jane did talk all the way home, for Mr. Andrews 
 talked to her, and she could not but answer him. 
 He thought it his duty to be polite, and flattered 
 himself that he could not fail to be agreeable ; 
 moreover he was as much gratified to be taken into 
 Colonel Forbes' confidence, and carried to Maple- 
 stead, to give electioneering information, as the 
 Colonel himself was to be admitted to the secrets of 
 persons connected with the ministry, and asked to 
 give his opinion on the great questions of the day. 
 Most men are talkative when they are pleased and 
 excited, and Jane therefore had the full benefit of 
 Mr. Andrews' self-congratulations, for her husband 
 was so full of thought that he did not notice how 
 ill and tired she looked, and only joined in the 
 conversation every now and then; or rather inter- 
 rupted it with some question proper to his own 
 musings. 
 
 Happily it was a very short drive ; yet short as 
 it was it seemed almost interminable to Jane, the 
 effort of talking and keeping up her attention was 
 so great; and once or twice she found herself 
 answering quite wide of the mark, and then she 
 was frightened, and roused herself more. Of all 
 things Colonel Forbes was annoyed with anything 
 like neglect of his political adherents ; and though 
 he seemed abstracted, Jane could not be at all sure 
 that he was not seeing and hearing everything that 
 passed, and treasuring it all in his memory to be 
 brought forward against her on some future occa- 
 sion. She talked a great deal more than she would 
 have done if he had not been there, more than was
 
 348 KATHAEIXE ASHTON. 
 
 at all necessary ; but in his presence every power of 
 her mind was at all times strained. 
 
 He did at last see that she was weary and look- 
 ing ill, but that was not till they had reached the 
 lodge at the entrance of the beech avenue, and then 
 he told her that she had better keep quiet till 
 dinner-time. Jane's very earnest wish would have 
 been to ask him to excuse her going in to dinner ; 
 but she could not propose it herself with Mr. An- 
 drews sitting by, and her husband was not likely to 
 suggest it and make an excuse for her. 
 
 It was an infinite relief to find herself at last 
 alone in her own room, with her maid ready to 
 bring her everything she wanted. The feeling of 
 comfort seemed even a reproach to her for having 
 for a moment inwardly repined ; but it was not to 
 last very long. She was lying on the sofa in her 
 dressing-room, and trying to sleep, when Colonel 
 Forbes' step was heard along the passage. Jane 
 started up, for he was coming towards her door. 
 What was the matter ? That was always the 
 question which came first to her mind. There did 
 not seem much the matter, however ; not anything, 
 indeed. He was quite good-humoured, only a little 
 impatient at her not being well, and anxious to 
 know if she was going down stairs. The confer- 
 ence was over, and Mr. Andrews, who had been 
 asked to stay and dine, was sitting by himself in the 
 drawing-room, and Colonel Forbes was too busy to 
 attend to him. He did not say that of all fatigues 
 he thought talking to Mr. Andrews upon any but 
 political subjects the greatest. Jane asked if Mr. 
 Andrews could not be shown to his room to dress 
 for dinner. — " It wants an hour to dinner yet, my 
 dear. I can't send him there so soon." Jane sat 
 up ; her manner was languid, and her voice weak, 
 and Colonel Forbes was irritated. It was very
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON". 349 
 
 provoking in her, he said, to walk such a distance 
 when she knew it would do her harm. It was that 
 absurd fancy for the Ashtons which was at the 
 bottom of it all ; and he really must put a stop to it, 
 if it went on. It would not do to have her killing 
 herself for nothing. — "I don't think it was merely 
 the distance," replied Jane gently ; " but walking 
 so fast, which always tries me." — " Then, my dear, 
 why did you walk fast ?" — " Because there was so 
 little time," she replied. — " Better have given it 
 up altogether," said Colonel Forbes. " I must keep 
 you quiet, Jane. Dr. Lowe said to me, only the 
 other day, that quiet was essential to you ; but 
 whenever you have an idea in your head, it must 
 be carried out ; wise or foolish, it must be done. 
 I never saw any one so determined." — " It was 
 very foolish," replied Jane ; " I will be more care- 
 ful in future ; and I will go down stairs now, and 
 entertain Mr. Andrews." — " I would not say any- 
 thing about it if he were a personal friend," said 
 Colonel Forbes, betraying, unknown to himself, that 
 his conscience was not easy ; " but these Rilworth 
 people are so very tenacious, and it might appear 
 uncivil if you kept away entirely; and really I have 
 exhausted all I have to say to him, for I have been 
 talking for the last hour, till in fact I am nearly 
 worn out." — "And is the result satisfactory ?" asked 
 Jane, willing by any means to avoid subjects which 
 might lead to a storm. — " Why, yes, upon the 
 whole, I think it is. When his cousin takes Moor- 
 lands " Jane's maid knocked at the door ; she 
 
 was come to see how her mistress was. Colonel 
 Forbes was stopped in the middle of his sentence ; 
 "then, my dear, you will go down to Mr. Andrews." 
 — " Yes, directly." — He kissed her. " Take care of 
 yourself, my love. Dawson, I think your mistress 
 would be the better for some drops of camphor
 
 350 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 
 
 julep." And he went away, thinking himself the 
 very pattern of an affectionate husband. 
 
 When Jane went to the drawing>room she found 
 Mr. Andrews seated in a comfortable arm-chair, 
 reading the newspaper. She might just as well, 
 therefore, have remained in her own room ; but 
 having once made her appearance it was necessary 
 to stay, especially as Mr. Andrews put aside the 
 newspaper as soon as she entered the room. "What 
 they would have found to talk about for the next 
 hour, having previously exhausted all subjects in 
 common during the drive from Rilworth, it would 
 have been impossible to say, but that Mr. An- 
 drews happened to touch upon the subject of Moor, 
 lands, and from thence naturally enlarged upon 
 the Ashtons, of whom he gave his opinion freely. 
 Old Ashton, he said, was a good sort of fellow 
 enough; crotchety, and difficult to manage, but 
 honest and shrewd. As for John Ashton, he was 
 neither the one nor the other ; he had not wit 
 enough to get money, or if he did get it, he had not 
 enough to know what to do with it. " As I have 
 been telling the Colonel," he continued, in his loud, 
 pompous voice, " it was a bad day when he let one 
 of the best farms on his estate to a man like John 
 Ashton ; and a very good one it will be when he 
 gets my cousin to take his place. You see, my dear 
 ma'am, in farms, as in everything else, the secret of 
 success depends upon capital — capital, that's the 
 thing wanted. Now, John Ashton never had any 
 any of his own — it was all a speculation of his 
 father's ; and old Ashton did not lay out half the 
 money a man would have done who had the farm 
 in his own hands, and so, between the two stools, 
 our friend the Colonel's interest fell to the ground." 
 — Jane inwardly winced at " our friend the Colonel," 
 but outwardly she was most laudably civil and for-
 
 KATHAPtlNE ASHTON. 3ol 
 
 bearing ; and being really anxious to know how far 
 lier husband considered Moorlands to be in his own 
 power, she inquired whether it was really certain 
 that Mr. John Ashton was to leave it. " Unques- 
 tionably, ma'am," replied Mr. Andrews, opening 
 his quick grey eyes to their fullest extent, in sur- 
 prise at her apparent ignorance; "it must be: 
 politically (between ourselves), it must be ; the 
 Colonel can't aflford to lose a vote. As he and I 
 were reckoning j ust now, it will be a close run, 
 under any circumstances." Jane was going to say 
 that it was at John Ashton's option to leave the 
 farm, but she did not know how far her husband 
 might have explained the conditions on which it 
 was originally taken, and she could only look 
 thoughtful and be silent. " You need not be 
 frightened, my dear ma'am," continued Mr. An- 
 drews, patronisingly, thinking that her gravity 
 proceeded from anxiety as to the election ; " we 
 won't let the Colonel run any risk. If he plays his 
 game well, he's sure of it, only we must keep a 
 sharp look out — we must'nt have traitors at our 
 door." — "I should have thought," said Jane, " that 
 Mr. John Ashton was not a person to have any 
 decided opinion of his own upon these political 
 questions. Old Mr. Ashton thought a great deal 
 about them, I know ; but his son has not half his 
 cleverness." — "A man must be a fool indeed who 
 can't have an eye to his own interests," replied 
 Mr. Andrews. "John Ashton has wit enough to see 
 that he is a richer man himself with Protection than 
 without it, and he won't look a step beyond that ; 
 he has no large views like the Colonel, and if he 
 were to profess to change, who would trust him ? 
 Not I, as I said to the Colonel just now. — 'Colonel,' 
 said I, ' let us have a safe man at Moorlands.' 
 Now my cousin is a safe man — an Anti-Protectionist
 
 352 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 to the backbone. He'd go through fire and water 
 for the point." — Jane felt as if going through fire 
 and water would have been an easy penance com- 
 pared with that which she was enduring, as Mr. 
 Andrews drew his chair nearer to hers, and became 
 more and more dogmatic and familiar. He was 
 not a man to be kept back by ordinary stiff civility, 
 and anything more decided would have been against 
 her husband's political interests ; so she endured it 
 as well as she could, and Mr. Andrews went on 
 enlarging upon his own sayings and doings to his 
 heart's content. " We were talking over John 
 Ashton's case just now," he said ; "all of us; and 
 some of the Colonel's London friends were inclined 
 to mercy, in consideration of the good effect it 
 might have upon public opinion ; but, said I, 
 ' Colonel, don't listen to that ; " a bird in the hand 
 is worth two in the bush," and has been so always. 
 Secure your vote, — that's the first thing to be done 
 — and leave public opinion to itself. And, after all, 
 there's nothing to be said about the matter. You 
 give the man a fair option — pay your rent and 
 stay, don't pay and go. He can't pay and he goes ; 
 who's to blame for that ? As for any half-measures, 
 trying for a year, and so forth, where's the good ? 
 and in the meantime comes a dissolution, as it 
 may come any day, and there's your vote clear 
 gone." — " Then it is understood that if the increased 
 rent is paid he may stay," said Jane, rather 
 anxiously. — " But he can't pay, he won't pay, he 
 mustn't pay, my dear ma'am," exclaimed Mr. An- 
 drews, with a curiously evident effort to keep down 
 excessive irritation at the idea which Jane had 
 propounded. — " Only if he can, he may," persisted 
 Jane. — " But he can't, my dear ma'am, he can't ; 
 he says so." Jane was silent and very uncomfort- 
 able. Fortunately^ for her the dressing-bell just
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 353 
 
 then rang, and she was able to retire ; but it was 
 not before her manner had been remarked by the 
 shrewd eye of Mr. Andrews, who was always 
 keenly alive to the possibility of having a traitor in 
 the political camp, and perfectly well aware of 
 Jane's predilection for Katharine Ashton, and con- 
 sequent interest in her family. 
 
 Jane dressed quickly, that she might have another 
 rest before dinner ; but she could not rest in mind. 
 Perhaps it was physical fatigue which made her 
 peculiarly nervous, but certainly she had seldom 
 been so inclined to forebode annoyance, and even 
 worse, to herself and to others. She felt guilty, as 
 it were, of planning against her husband, for all her 
 wishes were for Katharine. In her own mind she 
 went over and over again all that had passed in 
 her late interview, trying to recollect whether she 
 had in any way encouraged her in the idea of re- 
 moving to Moorlands ; but she could only remem- 
 ber one thing clearly, that she had said that what- 
 ever Charles Ronaldson advised must be right, or 
 something to that effect. She could not in con- 
 science have given a different opinion, that was 
 quite certain ; for the more she thought over the 
 plan the more she was convinced that it was the 
 best which, under the circumstances, Mrs. Ashton 
 could adopt. But this would not satisfy Colonel 
 Forbes ; and to be thwarted in his favourite plan — 
 to find an obstacle, however slight, in the way of 
 his ambition! — Jane trembled at the consequences. 
 She had, as yet, as she well knew, seen only the 
 shadow of his anger, heard only its distant mut- 
 terings; but she had seen and heard enough to 
 know, that once thoroughly awakened it would be 
 very terrible. 
 
 She listened, hoping that he might come to her 
 room before he went down stairs ; for she thought it 
 
 VOL. I. A A
 
 354 KATHARIXE ASHTON. 
 
 might be well to break the matter gently to him, 
 and if possible to soften his annoyance. At any 
 rate, it would be better than leaving him to hear 
 the fact first from John Ashton, with whom he 
 would not be likely to exercise much restraint ; but 
 time slipped away and he did not come, and when 
 she went to the drawing-room he still did not make 
 his appearance for a long time, not indeed till 
 dinner was announced. He came into the room 
 then with Mr. Andrews, looking! — Jane felt the 
 look ; she did not think any one else did. Colonel 
 Forbes was always polished, courteous, attentive ; 
 he had never been more studiously careful in his 
 behaviour to every one, to his wife especially, than 
 on this day ; but the dark thunder-cloud gathering 
 in the far horizon could not more certainly foretel 
 to the traveller an approaching storm than did the 
 peculiar undertone of his voice and a deep line 
 in his forehead portend to Jane a torrent of anger. 
 He talked a good deal upon all subjects, except 
 politics ; these he seemed to avoid, although several 
 political friends were with him, and Mr. Andrews 
 found no other subject in any way interesting, and 
 therefore tried to introduce it at every opportunity. 
 Jane, as the only lady present, was obliged to exert 
 herself generally, and perhaps this was fortunate 
 for her; she could not, as she might otherwise have 
 been tempted to do, watch her husband's face, and 
 ponder upon the meaning of every intonation of his 
 voice. Even as it was, she heard every word 
 spoken by him, whatever might be the conversation 
 she was carrying on witli others, and often found it 
 ditficult to reply properly to the observations ad- 
 dressed to her, in her anxiety to lose nothing which 
 might throw a light upon the secret cause of his 
 displeasure. 
 
 But she could obtain no clue, and might
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON. 355 
 
 almost have thought herself fanciful in supposing 
 there was anything amiss, but for his peculiarly 
 formal tone when speaking to herself. That she could 
 not mistake ; it was so evident that she was afraid 
 others might notice it, and she could not indeed feel 
 certain that Mr. Andrews did not. He certainly 
 watched them both narrowly, for Jane remarked 
 that he often cut short his own conversation to listen 
 to what either of them said. 
 
 The common-place subjects of the day were soon 
 exhausted. Jane felt the necessity of keeping up 
 the conversation, and tried to think of some new 
 topic, but her mind seemed a blank ; and with that 
 unfortunate fatality which so often seems to force 
 us to say the very things we had better not, she in- 
 quired of Mr. Andrews whether it was true that the 
 Duke of Lowther had given the management of his 
 Rilworth estates to his northern agent, Mr. Ronald' 
 son. Mr. Andrews, flattered at anything like a 
 confidential question, professed not to know, but 
 thought it extremely unlikely, as the Duke's bailiff 
 had been with him tliat very day and had not men- 
 tioned the subject. He could find out hoAvever, he 
 said, if Mrs. Forbes had the least curiosity upon the 
 subject, — he could find out without fail ; indeed, he 
 should have an opportunity of asking the very next 
 day, and he would send Mrs. Forbes word. — Jane 
 was half-amused and half-provoked at his oflficious- 
 ness, but professed not to care about it, except that 
 she believed Mr. Eonaldson to be a very estimable 
 person, and she thought it might be a desirable thing 
 to have him in the neighbourhood. — "Desirable for 
 many people, no doubt," replied Mr. Andrews, with 
 an unpleasant confidential wink of the eye. " Of 
 course, Mrs. Forbes, so kindly interested as you 
 have always been in the Ashtons, you know the 
 report ? " — Jane was aware that her husband's eye 
 
 AA 2
 
 356 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 was upon her, and she blushed without meaning it. 
 — "It's more than a report," continued Mr. An- 
 drews, finding by her silence that he was not to be 
 encouraged to repeat it. "Ronaldson and Katharine 
 Ashton are to be married, so it is said, for cer- 
 tain." — Jane started, and her eyes sparkled with 
 satisfaction. " Oh ! Mr. Andrews !" she exclaimed, 
 "when did you hear such good news?" — "Jane, 
 Mr. Trevor has been waiting to speak to you for 
 the last half-hour," exclaimed Colonel Forbes in a 
 tone like the faint growlings of thunder. Jane 
 apologised most politely; but Mr. Trevor only 
 wished to offer her some grapes, and Mr. Andrews 
 returned again to his subject. — "It is the common 
 talk in Rilworth," he said. " Of course it's rather 
 early to speak of such things so soon after old Ash- 
 ton's death ; but there is no doubt, I believe, as to 
 the truth of the report ; in fact, from what I under- 
 stand, it is quite an old affair." There was much 
 food for thought to Jane in this announcement. It 
 might ultimately interfere with the proposed removal 
 to Moorlands ; and, independent of her satisfaction 
 at such a prospect for Katharine, she could not 
 help feeling relieved at anything which might pre- 
 vent the storm she anticipated from her husband. 
 She quite longed to hear the news more fully con- 
 firmed, but Mr. Andrews had nothing more than 
 general rumour to give her, though he was entirely 
 confident of its truth. Jane's spirits rose at the 
 idea, and she talked with greater animation and 
 more generally, till she happened to glance at her 
 husband. He was sitting silent, his eyes were fixed 
 upon her, and his thoughts were seemingly so ab- 
 sorbed as to render him unconscious of the presence 
 of his guests. Jane thought for a moment, as she 
 noticed his look of distressed gravity, that he was 
 ill; but after a few seconds he seemed to rally again,
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 357 
 
 though still, to her perception, all he said was an 
 effort. The change in him was quite sufficient to 
 make a change in her. She stopped almost suddenly 
 in the midst of a remark she was making, and a pain- 
 ful, frightened feeling of nervousness came over her, 
 which took all the colour from her cheeks, and 
 attracted the notice of her neighbour Mr. Trevor. 
 Jane might have managed pretty well if left to her- 
 self, but notice aggravated the evil, and made her 
 realise that she was feeling most uncomfortable. 
 She rose and said she would go to the drawing-room, 
 and the general attention was directed towards her. 
 Colonel Forbes could not help perceiving that some- 
 thing was the matter ; for Jane's step was so trem- 
 bling that Mr. Trevor was upon the point of offering 
 her his arm. He went up to her, and forcing her 
 to lean upon him, said in a low tone, " Pray 
 exert yourself for a few moments;" and Jane 
 did exert herself, quite sharing in his dislike to 
 scenes. She sat down in the hall, her heart still 
 beating with painful, choking rapidity. She did 
 not dare say that it was over-fatigue, lest she should 
 again be reproached with her long walk, and she 
 did not think it was anything physical which 
 caused her to feel as she did. One kind word 
 from her husband, one assurance that he was 
 not displeased with her, would have quieted her 
 more than the skill of the wisest physician. But 
 she had no word ; only the most formal, polite at- 
 tention, such as an utter stranger in her case might 
 have expected. They went into the drawing-room ; 
 it was nearer than the dressing-room, and Jane 
 thought that to go there would seem less trouble- 
 some, less as if she wanted to make herself appear 
 very ill. For the same reason she sat down in an 
 armchair instead of lying down on a sofa. Colonel 
 Forbes was just going to ring for Dawson and 
 
 AA 3
 
 "SSS KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 leave lier, but she prevented him ; she wished, she 
 said, to be alone. " My dear, you are ill, and you 
 must have some one with you." He touched the bell 
 again. — " Please, dear Philip — please not. Could 
 
 not " She hesitated, and the sentence was 
 
 finished hurriedly; "must you go back to the 
 drawing-room?" — "Of course, my dear; I can't 
 leave my friends, it would be too absurd." — " But 
 only just for a few minutes. I wanted to say — 
 Philip, are you angry with me?" She put her 
 hand upon his, and fixed her soft, clear eyes upon 
 liis face with an expression of the most eager 
 affection, mingled with suspense. — " We will talk of 
 that by-and-by, my dear ; I wish for no more 
 scenes." — Jane's eyes were dimmed then ; yet her spi- 
 rit was a little aroused, and she said, "There would 
 be less chance of a scene if I were less worried by 
 your manner, Philip. You are angry, and I must 
 know why." — "You will not understand if I tell 
 you," he answered. " You have chosen to make to 
 yourself interests apart from mine, and of course 
 nothing that I am feeling can affect you." — Jane 
 was silent. The accusation was very old, and most 
 unsatisfactorily vague. — " It can be no fiincy of 
 mine," continued Colonel Forbes, speaking as if 
 greatly aggrieved, " v/hen even strangers re- 
 mark it." — "Strangers!" exclaimed Jane, hastily. 
 "Oh! Philip, who has ventured " He inter- 
 rupted her : " I can see no venturing, as you call it, 
 in drawing deductions from observations which are 
 made voluntarily. It is what every one is at liberty 
 to do ; but I really must leave you, Jane ; I can't 
 be rude to my guests." — " Only one minute more, 
 Philip," exclaimed Jane ; " they will not expect 
 you; they know that lam not well." — "One mi- 
 nute will do no good," he answei'cd hastily, " nor 
 ten, nor twenty minutes ; I do not want w^ords, but
 
 KATHAKINE ASHTON, 359 
 
 actions." — "I would act if I knew how," replied 
 Jane; "but indeed, Philip, you make me very- 
 wretched by these vague complaints. If you would 
 only tell me what I have done !" — " I do not accuse 
 you of doing," he answered very coldly. — " Then 
 of saying. What have I said ? Was it anything 
 that passed with Mr. Andrews?" — "Conscience, 
 I perceive," remarked Colonel Forbes, with a scorn- 
 ful smile. " You best know what passed between 
 yourself and Mr. Andrews." Jane tried to collect 
 her thoughts, to remember every word she had 
 spoken, but her memory was sadly confused. "It 
 is useless to try and recollect any particular ex- 
 pression," continued Colonel Forbes, seeing her per- 
 plexed look, and it is not of anything particular that 
 I complain, but simply of that general want of in- 
 terest in my interests, and of devotion to those of 
 others, which is obvious even to strangers." — " You 
 mean about the Ashtons," said Jane, a light break- 
 ing in upon her mind. "I don't quite know what 
 I said to him." — " Of course not ; of course you 
 cannot remember what came so naturally from your 
 lips. You cannot know what your manner was, but 
 I can, and I do know, Jane. Mr. Andrews looks 
 upon you as entirely in the Ashton interest." — 
 Jane's temper, though very sweet, was sorely tried 
 by this constant reference to a man like Mr. An- 
 drews ; and she replied with a little bitterness of 
 tone, " It is a new thing for you, Philip, to listen 
 to Mr. Andrews in preference to your wife." — " I 
 must beg you to command yourself, Jane," replied 
 Colonel Forbes : " we shall do no good by irri- 
 tating each other. You would not have me distrust 
 Mr. Andrews' word, I suppose." — "I must first 
 hear what he said," answered Jane, doing her 
 very utmost to appear what she was not, either 
 physically or mentally — quite calm. — " He informed 
 
 AA 4
 
 360 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 me," continued Colonel Forbes, " that you had ex- 
 pressed yourself as being deeply interested in the 
 Ashtons, and that you had even gone so far as to 
 suggest the probability of entirely counteracting 
 my wishes ; that, in fact — but it is useless to pursue 
 the subject," he added, drawing himself up haugh- 
 tily ; " you know better than I can tell you how 
 far this infatuated predilection for persons quite out 
 of your sphere leads you astray from the path of 
 duty." — "You are not just to me, Philip," replied 
 Jane, every limb trembling with agitation, which 
 she vainly strove to subdue ; " God knows that I 
 would not willingly swerve a hair's breadth from 
 the path of duty, even for you, dear, though you are 
 to me dearer than my own life. I said to Mr. An- 
 drews 1 forget what I said — I think I only asked 
 
 questions. I wished to know whether it was quite 
 certain that Moorlands must be given up." — " And 
 you suggested the probability of John Ashton's re- 
 maining there," observed Colonel Forbes; "and, 
 more than that, you were glad of it ; you would 
 have furthered their wishes against mine." — " I 
 would have that done which is honourable and 
 right," replied Jane ; " and I was anxious for them 
 
 because " She hesitated. — " Because what ? 
 
 It is better that I should know the plots that are 
 forming against me." Jane turned excessively pale 
 and leant back in her chair. " Then you do know 
 there is a plot," exclaimed Colonel Forbes, his voice 
 raised to a pitch of sudden and violent anger. 
 "You have been joining in it yourself probably; 
 yes, you were so anxious to go there to-day ; you 
 must needs go, though it made you, as you acknow- 
 ledged, very ill. I see it all ; I want no words — 
 my wife is against me. I might have knoAvn it from 
 the beginning." He walked up and down the room 
 rapidly ; then in a moment checked himself, and,
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 361 
 
 coming up to Jane, who was too frightened at his 
 vehemence to attempt any exculpation, he said very 
 gravely, but with a sternness which made her shud- 
 der, " Tell me everything, I have a right to know, 
 and I will know." — Jane made a great effort to 
 speak, her voice was very low, and he bent down 
 to listen : " I always meant to tell you, Philip — I 
 knew you ought to know it. They will not leave 
 Moorlands — Katharine said so to-day — they will 
 join together and live there." — Colonel Forbes 
 clenched the arm of her chair. " And you approved, 
 Jane ? " — " I did not know what to say — it seemed 
 the best plan." — " But you said — tell me, I must 
 and will know." — ■" I said — I don't know — I don't 
 remember exactly, only I think it seemed to me 
 that whatever Mr. Ronaldson advised was likely 
 to be best." — " And Mr. Ronaldson's advice was 
 that they should remain ? " — " Yes, I believe so." 
 — " And you advised the same ? " — " Yes ; that is, 
 I did not advise." — " Let me have no equivo- 
 cation — you advised the same?" — "I can't quite 
 recollect, I was feeling very ill. Oh ! Philip, why 
 will you torture me?" and Jane burst into tears. 
 Colonel Forbes left the room and brought back a 
 glass of water, which he offered her without speak- 
 ing. Jane pushed it aside. " Let me go to my 
 room," she said, in a faint voice ; and she stood up, 
 holding by the mantelpiece. — " Your room will be 
 the best place for you," he replied coldly, and he 
 rang the bell. Jane rested her hand upon his 
 shoulder and looked pleadingly in his face. "I 
 meant no wrong, dear Philip; will you not forgive 
 me ? " He withdrew from her light touch, and 
 Jane's hand at the same moment fell powerless by 
 her side, and with a sharp cry of intense bodily an- 
 guish she sank senseless upon the ground.
 
 362 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 " Mother," said Katharine, the next morning, 
 " don't you think I had better go and see Miss 
 Ronaldson to-day, if there is time ? Betsy Carter 
 says slie is very poorly." — "As you like, Kitty," was 
 Mrs. Ashton's reply ; "but there's a great deal to 
 be done, one way and another. When did you say 
 John wanted us to be at Moorlands?" — "Thursday- 
 week," replied Katharine. " That will leave us 
 just ten days." — jNIrs. Ashton heaved a deep sigh. 
 " It's very soon," she said ; " I don't see at all how 
 everything is to be managed in such a hurry. We 
 must have Henry Madden in to look at the furni- 
 ture, and see what he has a fancy for." — " And what 
 we like we can take over to Moorlands," continued 
 Katharine ; " that is one very great comfort. I 
 should have been dreadfully sorry to part with 
 some things," and her eye glanced at the arm- 
 chair. — " Yes, we must keep that," said ]\Irs. Ash- 
 ton, following the direction of Katharine's glance; 
 " and the table too." It was a small table, standing 
 between the fireplace and the window, with a desk 
 upon it, at which Mr. Ashton had been in the habit 
 of writing his business letters. His picture hung above 
 it; rather a coarse painting, but a very good likeness. 
 Katharine looked at the picture for a few moments, 
 and then said, " We had better manage to take 
 that over ourselves, mother ; it won't do to trust it 
 in the cart. Mr. Fowler told me the other day he 
 knew some one who packed pictures particularly 
 well ; Ilobbs I think the name was, in Dean-street. 
 Perhaps, if I go out, I had better call and speak 
 about it." — " Yes, if you must go," said Mrs.Ashton,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 363 
 
 who was beginning to feel so nervously fond of Ka- 
 tharine, and so dependent upon her, that she could 
 scarcely bear her to be out of her sight. — *^' I 
 would not go if I could help it, dear mother," said 
 Katharine ; " but there are some things I must see 
 about, and you would not like me to be unkind to 
 Miss Ronaldson, would you?" — "No, child, surely 
 not, when Charlie has been so kind to us, but don't 
 stay long ; and, now I think of it, has any one heard 
 from Charlie since he went away ?" Katharine was 
 conscious that she blushed a little, and the feeling 
 made her blush still more. " John has heard from 
 him/' she replied ; " he got quite safe home, and his 
 mother was quite well, he says." — '' And he must 
 be glad enough to be there/' continued Mrs. Ash- 
 ton ; " though he has not such good prospects 
 as we thought. I could have wished, Kate — but 
 never mind, that's all amongst by-gones, and I 
 couldn't have borne to have you living away." 
 Katharine hurried out of the room with the words 
 "it's all amongst by-gones" echoing in her ears, 
 and haunting her mind like the tone of a mournful 
 chant. 
 
 She went on her errand — first to the upholsterer's 
 to speak about taking some useless chairs off their 
 hands; then to the china-shop to match some jugs 
 and basins which were to be carried with them to 
 Moorlands ; then to the charwoman in Pebble- 
 street, to tell her that she must come and help them 
 all the next week ; and at last to Hobbs, the car- 
 penter, to speak about packing tlie picture. But the 
 man was not at home, and his wife did not know 
 when he would be ; she thou<»;ht he was at Mr. 
 Fowler's ; so to Mr. Fowler's Katharine went, and 
 there she could hear nothing, except that Hobbs 
 had been there, and was gone again, because JNfr. 
 Fowler was out. He had been out all night, the
 
 364 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 servant said, but thej expected him in every 
 minute. Katharine did not ask where he had been ; 
 it was not in her nature to be curious; besides, she 
 was just then occupied with the thought of the pic- 
 ture. 
 
 There was nothing to be done then but to go to 
 the Miss Ronaldson's. Tiiis was not quite such a 
 pleasant visit as it used to be. The spirits of the 
 old ladies were not as good as formerly ; they were 
 always lamenting that Charlie and his mother were 
 not settled near them, and there might have been 
 something, too, of reproach in their feeling towards 
 Katharine. They had so settled it in their own 
 minds that she was to be their niece, that her refusal 
 had come upon them as a bitter disappointment. 
 Still they were very good and very charitable, and 
 helped Katharine in all her district matters to the 
 utmost of their power, and liked her to come and 
 gossip with them about the news of the town. It 
 was only when marriage w^as in question, or when 
 anything was said about their nephew and his pros- 
 perous career, or his health or happiness, that a sigh 
 from Miss Ronaldson, and a little wink and shake 
 of the head from Miss Priscilla, showed that if they 
 had forgiven they had not quite forgotten. 
 
 Katharine found them this morning particularly 
 complaining ; Miss Priscilla's rheumatism had kept 
 her awake all night, and her sister was vainly en- 
 deavouring to make her wrap herself up in flannel, 
 and was as angry as it was possible for her to be, 
 when she found that Prissy liked better to sit by 
 the fire, moaning in solemn suffering, than to take 
 immediate measures to be cured. " Let Deborah 
 rub your shoulder with opodeldoc, Prissy, my dear, 
 and put this piece of new Welsh flannel across your 
 back," she was saying, just as Katharine came into 
 the room. — "I've told you, sister, it's no good ; it's in
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 365 
 
 the family, and there's nothing to be done. Oh 
 dear !" and a loud moan escaped from Miss Priscilla, 
 as she turned round in her chair to see who had 
 entered. " Oh Katharine, it's you ; how do you 
 do ? — sit down, do. You find us very bad indeed to- 
 day." — " Very bad indeed," echoed Miss Ronaldson. 
 "We have had a rough night, hav'n't we. Prissy?'* 
 — Miss Priscilla dolorously shook her head. "A ter- 
 rible pain is rheumatism, Katharine, a terrible pain. 
 I hope you'll never be troubled with it." — " And 
 Prissy won't try Steers' opodeldoc," said Miss Ro- 
 naldson, though there's nothing like it ; it is not 
 like a quack medicine — it's quite known and recom- 
 mended ; but she won't try it. I've done all I can to 
 persuade her, I do assure you I have ; but Prissy 
 thinks she knows best." — " What's the good of set- 
 ting oneself against a family complaint ? " observed 
 Miss Priscilla, sitting upright in her chair, with the 
 most determined martyr-like air. " Sister Rebecca, 
 you had better not trouble Katharine about it ; you'd 
 best leave me to myself. How's your mother to-day, 
 Katharine? Oh dear!" — " Sha'n't we send for Mr, 
 Fowler, my dear ?" asked Miss Ronaldson, anxiously. 
 — Miss Priscilla declined with a hasty shake of the 
 head. — " I should have sent for Mr. Fowler in the 
 night,I assure you, Kate," continued Miss Ronaldson, 
 anxious to assure Katharine that she had not been 
 deficient in any sisterly duty ; " but Prissy wouldn't 
 let me ; she hates doctors, Prissy does." — " Where's 
 the good of sending for a doctor to cure a family 
 complaint ? " asked Miss Priscilla. — " You wouldn't 
 have had Mr. Fowler if you had sent for him," said 
 Katharine, wishing to divert the attention of both 
 sisters ; "I called there just now, and they told me he 
 had been out all night, but I did not learn where." — 
 " Didn't you, now? there's a pity," exclaimed Miss 
 Priscilla, in an energetic tone, and quite forgetting
 
 366 KATHARIXE ASHTOIS". 
 
 her rheumatism. — " A great pitj," repeated Mis3 
 Ronaldson ; " out all night ! then what Deborah 
 said is true." — "And what did Deborah say?" asked 
 Miss Priscilla, quickly ; " you never told me." — 
 " Why, Deborah said, when she came back from 
 market, that she had seen the new assistant standing 
 at the surgery-door, looking out ; and she heard him 
 say to some one, — she did not know who, — a bluff 
 man dressed in a brown coat and-straw hat; she thinks 
 it might have been Taylor's brother, at the Black 
 Eagle, for he does wear a brown coat sometimes, 
 and once she saw him in a straw hat — but, dear me ! 
 what was I saying ? Prissy, my dear, do help me." 
 — " You were going to tell us what Mr. Fowler's 
 assistant said, as he stood at the surgery-door," 
 observed Katharine, stepping in before Miss Pris- 
 cilla's rather impatient answer could be ready. — 
 "Oh! yes, soitwas; at least — but, youknow, my dear 
 Katharine, I like to be exact — I think Deborah told 
 me it was the surgery-door, but I can't be quite 
 certain ; it might have been the house-door, but 
 I think it must have been the surgery-door, don't 
 you. Prissy, my dear ? because, you see, assistants 
 do always stand at surgery-doors." — "Ayell!"was 
 all Miss Priscilla's reply. Miss Ronaldson hurried 
 forward more quickly, but not more intelligibly : 
 " It might have been the surgery-door — and I think 
 — yes, I am quite sure it was now, for Deborah 
 told me she had to get some medicine made uj), 
 and she thought of going in there, and asking him 
 to do it for her, and then it was she saw him ; 
 yes, it must have been the surgery-door." — "I 
 dare say it was," said Katharine good-humouredly, 
 "for I remember remarking him there myself to- 
 day, when I came up the street." — " Did you, 
 indeed! that was curious, and makes it quite cer- 
 tain. But, anyhow, Deborah brought home the
 
 KATnARINE ASHTOX. 367 
 
 news that Mr. Fowler had been at Maplestead all 
 night ; and very sorry I was to hear it." 
 
 " Maplestead !" replied Katharine, in a tone of 
 alarm. — "Maplestead?" echoed Miss Priscilla, with 
 eager curiosity. — " Ah ! yes, Maplestead, surely," 
 replied Miss Ronaldson, her face assuming an ex- 
 pression in which might have been traced grave 
 sympathy and a littlemixture of self-importance at be- 
 ing the bearer of such tidings. " Deborah was telling 
 me about it just as some one called her away to the 
 back-door; and then, when I came back, I found you 
 so bad, Prissy, my dear, that it put it out of my 
 head." — "Might we hear a little more from De- 
 borah now?" asked Katharine, trying to control a 
 feeling of overpowering anxiety. — " Surely," said 
 Miss Priscilla, quickly. — " Surely," was echoed by 
 Miss Ronaldson, and the bell was immediately 
 rung. But Deborah could give no satisfactory 
 account. The new assistant had told her that Mr. 
 Fowler had been summoned to Maplestead about half- 
 past eight or nine o'clock the preceding evening, and 
 had not returned. Mrs. Forbes was very ill, but 
 what was the matter was not fully known. — " Well, 
 it's very provoking ; but we must be patient," 
 said Miss Priscilla, resignedly ; " we shall know all 
 in good time." — " Yes, all in good time," repeated 
 Miss Ronaldson ; and Katharine felt more strongly 
 than either, that it must be all in good time, but 
 it was a sore trial to be patient. — She moved to go; 
 but the blank looks of the two old ladies showed 
 her that it would be unkind ; they had only seen 
 her once since her father's death, and there was 
 much to be told which was interesting to them, and 
 something to hear which n)ight be interesting to 
 Katharine. A letter had been received from Mrs. 
 Ronaldson that morning ; part of which was read 
 aloud with marked emphasis. Mrs. Ronaldson was
 
 368 KATHARIXE ASHTOX. 
 
 vexed, she wrote, at the effect of Charlie's visit to 
 Rilworth, he had returned home in such bad spi- 
 rits. Not that this was exactly to be wondered at, 
 considering all he had had to try him whilst he was 
 there; but he did not seem to rally at all! — "And 
 that's not like a young man of Charlie's age," ob- 
 served Miss Ronaldson oracularly, as she carefully 
 refolded the letter, replaced it in the envelope, and 
 conveyed it to the depths of a capacious pocket. " He 
 lias a very feeling heart ; but to go on fretting can't 
 be right." — " Surely not," observed Miss Priscilla, 
 fixing her keen eyes on Katharine's face till she 
 brought the crimson colour to her temples. "There's 
 little good in fretting in this world, is there, Ka- 
 tharine ? — oh dear !" — " Let me rub, Prissy," said 
 Miss Ronaldson anxiously, and drawing her chair 
 near to Miss Priscilla. — "No, thank you, sister, no, 
 please not ;" and Miss Priscilla extended her hand 
 forbiddingly. " I was going to say about fretting, 
 I don't think it's right in any one, let alone our 
 nephew Charlie, who has so many blessings about 
 him, to be ahvays looking to the sad side of things. 
 But it's what he's very much given to Katha- 
 rine, and, as I tell him, he makes himself ill by 
 it. Sometimes it's other people's trouble, some- 
 times it's his own ; but it all comes to the same ; 
 and I shall write, and tell him so. Yesterday carried 
 yesterday's troubles, and to-day will carry to-day's ; 
 but there's no day strong enough to bear both." — 
 The little knowing face looked more knowing and 
 mysterious than ever after the delivery of this 
 speech ; and the tone was decidedly fierce, as if Ka- 
 tharine were bent upon contradicting the assertion. 
 But Katharine was in no humour for contradiction, 
 she was far too sad at heart. She w^as sorry for 
 Charles. At another time she might have been un- 
 happy because he was so ; but that was not the
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 369 
 
 prominent idea in her mind, although she did blush 
 when Miss Priscilla looked at her. People may be 
 judged very hardly from their blushes ; sometimes 
 they are merely the result of an uncomfortable self- 
 consciousness ; they were not much more now to Ka- 
 tharine. Miss Priscilla stared at her, and spoke 
 meaningly, and her colour came, as a necessary con- 
 sequence ; but all that she really thought of at the 
 moment was, how she could make an excuse to go. By 
 calling again at Mr. Fowler's she might hope now to 
 learn something more definite as to Jane's illness. She 
 was upon the point of rising when an exclamation 
 from Miss Ronaldson stopped her : " Why, I de- 
 clare — yes, I do think it is ; — Katharine, my dear, 
 isn't that the Maplestead servant ? and riding so fast 
 too ! do look ! " It was Crewe the butler, Colonel 
 Forbes' confidential servant; he was riding rapidly 
 down the street. " Going to the railway I've no 
 doubt," said Miss Ronaldson, as she watched him 
 turn into a narrow street. Miss Priscilla moved her 
 chair, trying to look ; but he was out of sight before 
 she could approach near enough to the window. 
 " He must be going up to London by the two-o'clock 
 train," was her comment. She always knew the exact 
 time of the arrival and departure of every train. — 
 " Yes, to be sure ; and what for, I wonder ?" Katha- 
 rine felt that she knew — he must be going for further 
 medical advice. She could bear the suspense no 
 longer ; and, breaking in upon the suggestion on 
 the subject which Miss Ronaldson was inclined to 
 offer, and Miss Priscilla perversely to contradict, 
 owing, we may charitably believe, to the rheuma- 
 tism, she wished them a hasty good-bye, and almost 
 ran up the street till she reached Mr. Fowler's door. 
 Still " Not at home," was the answer ; " but ex- 
 pected in every instant." Katharine felt quite sick 
 at heart. Her first impulse was to hurry on id 
 
 VOL. I. B B
 
 370 KATHARINE ASHTOX. 
 
 Maplestead at once ; but she thought of her mother 
 and the dinner-hour. Ko; she must be contented 
 to wait ; it might be a hard trial of patience, but 
 she must bear it ; and she did bear it, as she had 
 learnt to bear every trial, small or great, in the last 
 few years, with a calm, smiling face, and a kind 
 thought for every one about her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Eight o'clock came before Katharine had the oppor- 
 tunity of hearing anything more ; and all that time 
 she said little or nothing of her anxiety. She only 
 mentioned the fact of Jane's illness, and then let 
 the subject drop. Mrs. Ashton was very sorry ; 
 she wished extremely they could hear more, but she 
 was too much absorbed in her own troubles to enter 
 much into those of another. So they sat the whole 
 afternoon and evening looking over books, and 
 burning papers, and working, and talking upon all 
 subjects, except that which in Katharine's mind was 
 uppermost, or rather, we should say, undermost. 
 Uppermost thoughts are not the nearest, and 
 dearest, and most anxious. They come and go with 
 every change of this changing world. Undermost 
 thoughts, buried deep where no human eye can see 
 them — the substrata — the foundations of our ac- 
 tions — the sources of our feelings — these are the 
 important thoughts, and Katharine's thought of 
 Jane Forbes was amongst them. That early tie, 
 that fond clinging of the affections around the com- 
 panion whom she had loved in childhood, was 
 stronger than till that hour she knew. It w^as 
 Henry Madden who at last brought more definite 
 intelligence, when he came in to see them, and dis-
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON". 371 
 
 CUSS business, as was his wont almost every evening 
 when the shop was closed ; and he talked so care- 
 lessly, so indifferently, Katharine could scarcely 
 bear to stay in the room and listen to him. Had 
 they heard, he asked, how ill Mrs. Forbes was? 
 A sudden attack — something at the heart it was 
 supposed. She was better ; but Mr. Fowler con- 
 sidered her still in danger, and a special messenger 
 had been despatched that afternoon to bring back 
 a London physician. Mrs. Ashton was full of in- 
 quiries, and very much wished that Mr. Fowler 
 would call in and tell them more; and then she and 
 Henry Madden began talking about Jane's health 
 in general, and her pale face ; and they thought her 
 mother had died of something of the same kind ; 
 and Mrs. Ashton said she had always had a misgiving 
 that she would not live long. Henry Madden even 
 went on to calculate the chances of Colonel Forbes' 
 marrying again ; till Katharine, who had been 
 sitting quite silent, could endure it no longer, and 
 hastily exclaimed, "Mother, I must run down to Mr. 
 Fowler's ; you won't mind." — " Run down to Mr. 
 Fowler's, child ! It's too late a good deal." Henry 
 Madden offered to go, but Katharine was deter- 
 mined. She was very much obliged, she said, 
 but nothing would satisfy her except hearing 
 herself. "I won't be gone live minutes, mother, 
 dear," she added; "and supper is not quite 
 ready. You know you would like to hear how Mrs. 
 Forbes is yourself. And please stay and talk a 
 little," she added in a low voice to Henry Madden, 
 as he was going into the shop. He was very good- 
 natured, and had the feeling of old acquaintance 
 and regard for Mrs. Ashton ; so he sat down again, 
 and the conversation became interesting to both, 
 and tliey did not observe how long Katharine had 
 been absent, till Henry Madden recollected an 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 KATHAKIXE ASHTON. 
 
 engagement he had made for that evening, and 
 looking at his watch found it was nearly nine o'clock. 
 " I am afraid I must go now," he said ; " I had not 
 the least notion it was so late. I suppose your 
 daughter will be back in a minute or two." — " Yes, 
 I suppose so. Certainly, she must be," replied Mrs. 
 Ashton, in the uncomfortable tone of a person who 
 did not thoroughly believe her own word. " But 
 Kitty isn't used to be out so late. I wonder what 
 has kept her ; bad news from Maplestead, I am 
 afraid." — "I could just call at Mr. Fowler's, 
 and inquire, as I go down street, if you like," 
 said Mr. Madden, feeling his own curiosity not a 
 little excited. " Fowler was to have gone over to 
 Maplestead again this afternoon." — " Thank you ; 
 it would be very kind," began Mrs. Ashton. "Kate 
 is sure to take on sadly if anything is amiss with 
 Mrs. Forbes. It's strange how the feeling has kept 
 up since the time when they were together at Miss 
 Richardson's." — " And Mrs. Forbes is not a very 
 come-at-able person with all," observed Mr. Madden. 
 " I have heard my sisters talk about her. and say 
 she is proud." — '• My Kitty knows how to make 
 friends, and to keep them, I will say that for her," 
 observed Mrs. Ashton, complacently. "She has 
 got them of all kinds. There's the Miss Lockes as 
 fond of her as can be, and Betsy Carter and her 
 little sister quite like relations. I don't know 
 any one who has more friends than Kitty." — 
 "All of one style, though," said Mr. Madden, 
 laughing. " She won't let any one be friends with 
 her except the wonderfully good ones, — at least 
 that is what I hear my sisters say. If you are 
 one of j\Ir. Reeves' followers, you may be one of 
 Katharine Ashton's, so they declare, but never else." 
 — "I don't know what yon mean by Mr. Reeves' 
 followers," observed Mrs. Ashton a little quickly;
 
 KATHAEINE ASHTON. 373 
 
 " it seems to me we ought all to be followers of 
 the clergyman of the parish ; but if you mean one 
 of those who help Mr. Reeves, why it's natural 
 enough. If people work together, they must in 
 a way get to know each other, and be friendly ; 
 and that, I think, is what has been at the bot- 
 tom of Kitty's keeping friends with Mrs. Forbes. 
 They always had some business together, and so 
 they have in a measure now. And I don't think 
 you would find any of those who have districts, 
 and go to the schools, and all that sort of thing, call 
 Mrs. Forbes proud; indeed, I have heard many of 
 them say just the contrary." — "Perhaps so," said 
 Mr. Madden, to whom the question was one of pro- 
 found indifference, except that it was part of his 
 political creed that every person connected with 
 Colonel Forbes must on all occasions be in fault. 
 "But really I mustn't stay any longer. Good 
 evening to you, Mrs. Ashton." — " Good-bye," said 
 Mrs. Ashton, in a sorrowful tone ; for her spirits, 
 which had been a little excited by the conversation, 
 began to sink as soon as she thought she was to be 
 left alone. " If you go to Mr. Fowler's, do send 
 Kitty back ; she ought not to be out so late." 
 
 The injunction was unnecessary, for just at that 
 moment Katharine's knock was heard at the street- 
 door. In spite of his haste, Henry Madden could 
 not help delaying a little longer to hear the latest 
 news. He held open the door for Katharine, who 
 did not see him, but, rushing up to her mother, 
 threw herself on her neck, exclaiming, " Oli, 
 mother ! " — and, in spite of every effort, her voice 
 was choked with sobs ; — " she is so ill." — " Never 
 mind, Kitty, my child, sit down ; don't fret, sit 
 down. Just get her a glass of water," added Mrs. 
 Ashton, addressing Mr. Madden, who stood by in 
 quiet astonishmer^v at this sudden burst of feeling.
 
 374 KATHAHINE ASHTON". 
 
 — " No, mother ; no, thank you ; I don't want any 
 water ; I don't want anything," exclaimed Katha- 
 rine, commanding herself directly she became con- 
 scious of the presence of a third person ; " I am 
 
 not going to fret, but I wanted to say " She 
 
 stopped, and the pause made Mr. Madden feel 
 himself in the way ; but even then he could not go 
 without satisfying his curiosity. " Mrs. Forbes is 
 worse, I am afraid," he said. — " Yes, that is — no, 
 she is not worse ; at least, they think not ; but 
 
 they want Oh ! mother, if I might only go over 
 
 and nurse her." — "Kitty, my child! why you are 
 quite silly," exclaimed Mrs. Ashton, with an accent 
 of gentle and anxious expostulation. — " They have 
 fine servants enough at Maplestead, I should ima- 
 gine," observed Mr. Madden, sarcastically, "with- 
 out requiring any aid from Rilworth." Katharine 
 looked up quickly, and a little angrily : " j\Ir. 
 Madden, you won't mind, I hope, but I want to 
 speak to my mother very much, and time presses." 
 — "Oh! of course, I beg your pardon. I did not 
 mean to be any interruption," he replied in an 
 offended tone ; " I did not in the least know you 
 were such a devoted Forbesite." Katharine would 
 not answer him, but stood up with an air which 
 plainly showed she expected him instantly to go. 
 " Good evening," he said once more, and this time 
 very coldly. Katharine saw she had annoyed him ; 
 but she did not think or care about it then, and as 
 soon as the door was closed, she turned again to 
 her mother : " I could not tell you all about it 
 while he was here, mother ; but, indeed, it is not a 
 fancy. They do want a nurse dreadfully, and Mr. 
 
 Fowler does not know where to get one, and " 
 
 " But you to go, Kitty, and leave me. here all alone, 
 and the packing, and all the business ! " Mrs. 
 Ashton was really £ kind-hearted person ; but it
 
 KATHAPwINE ASHTON. 375 
 
 naturally struck her just then that "charity should 
 begin at home." Katharine, however, was not to 
 be daunted. " 1 thought of all that, mother, dear ; 
 and I would not for the world leave you for more 
 than this one night ; but it would only be just for 
 to-night, and Betsy Carter would come and sleep 
 here. I went and asked her as I came up street, 
 that was one thing which made me so late. But I 
 will tell you how it is: The London doctor came 
 about seven, and he and Mr. Fowler went over to 
 Maplestead together, and Mr. Fowler wasn't come 
 back when I went there just now ; but he did 
 come after a time, and then he told me that he was so 
 pressed for a nurse ; for Mrs. Forbes' maid is quite 
 new, and they don't like to trust her, and the 
 housekeeper is ill, and the Colonel seems bent upon 
 having a regular nurse, and Mr. Fowler promised 
 to get one." — " Well, child ! well ; but you are not 
 a regular nurse," exclaimed Mrs. Ashton. — "No, 
 mother, of course not ; but Mr. Fowler can't get 
 the person he thought he could, she is engaged ; 
 and there's only Nurse Lawson to be had, and she is 
 deaf, and he was quite in a fuss about it ; and then it 
 struck me that perhaps if I could go I might be of 
 use, because you know I am accustomed to illness. 
 I have always been with Selina when she was ill ; 
 and I should be so very glad, and Mr. Fowler 
 seemed to think it might do; and then I said I 
 would come back and ask you; and perhaps you 
 would let me go over with him ; he is to liave a 
 fly ready in half-an-hour." Mrs. Ashton looked 
 doubtful and disconcerted, and Katharine, reading 
 her thoughts, continued, " I thought of you, mother, 
 directly, and what you would do without me; but 
 I fancied perhaps just for this one night you would 
 not mind so much if Betsy Carter would come 
 over and be here, and I shall be back again quite
 
 376 KATHARINE ASHTON. 
 
 early to-morrow morning ; for, of course, I could 
 not think of staying there. Indeed Dr. Lowe says 
 that he should like to send for a person from one 
 of the London Institutions, so I shall not be wanted. 
 Please, dear mother, let me go." — " But 1 don't 
 understand ; what is the matter with Mrs. Forbes? 
 what has made her so ill of a sudden?" inquired 
 Mrs. Ashton, not able to bring herself as yet to 
 give a direct assent to the request. — " I don't quite 
 know what they call it," replied Katharine ; " but 
 it is some internal inflammation, which they say 
 has been coming on some time, and has been made 
 worse by worry and over-exertion. You know, 
 mother, how tired we thought Mrs. Forbes looked 
 yesterday when she called." — " I should have said 
 she had a heart complaint," observed Mrs. Ashton, 
 a little peevishly ; " and it's my belief that that is 
 what is the matter with her now." — " There is a 
 tendency to it, they are afraid, though they think 
 there is nothing actually wrong now," said Katha- 
 rine in a low voice; and turning from the subject 
 as if she did not like even to allow it to herself, 
 she added, " but, mother, what do you say to my 
 going ? I told Mr. Fowler I would be back directly 
 and let him know." — "I can't have you running 
 about the streets at this time of night, Kitty," said 
 Mrs. Ashton ; " it's not fitting ; and why can't you 
 let Colonel Forbes manage his own affairs, he has 
 money enough." — " But money won't buy nurses 
 when there are none to be had," said Katharine, 
 good-huraouredly. " However, I won't go, of 
 course, if you don't like it, dear mother ; only 
 please may I let Mr. Fowler know, because he's 
 waiting to hear." — "Send Susan," said Mrs. Ash- 
 ton.- — " Susan is younger than I am, and not half so 
 steady," said Katharine, trying very hard not to 
 show how disappointed she felt. " I think, mother,
 
 KATHARINE ASHTON. 377 
 
 if you don't mind much, I had better take the 
 message myself; it is but a very little way to go." 
 Mrs. Ashton would neither say " yes," nor " no." 
 She sat gazing upon the fire, trying to make up her 
 mind that it was her duty to be hard-hearted. 
 There was a loud ringing at the street-door bell. 
 Mrs. Ashton started : " My patience ! what a pull ! 
 why the world is bewitched." — "It's Mr. Fowler," 
 said Katharine, looking into the passage ; " I 
 thought he was likely to come." He was giving a 
 message to Susan that he was in a great hurry, and 
 hoped Miss Ashton was ready. Mrs. Ashton heard 
 the words. " Ask him to come in, beg him to come 
 in ; tell him I must see him, Susan," she exclaimed, 
 her tone becoming louder and louder. Mr. Fowler 
 appeared, muffled up in a great-coat. He was come, 
 he said, to carry off Miss Katharine, and he hoped 
 she would not keep him waiting. — " My mother 
 does not like me to go," said Katharine. — " I don't 
 see the need of it," observed Mrs. Ashton ; " when 
 people have got plenty of money they can afford to 
 hire nurses; and I don't know what's the matter 
 with Mrs. Forbes ; it may be an infectious fever." — 
 Mr. Fowler smiled with good-humoured contempt : 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! my dear ma'am ; nothing of the 
 kind. It's all perfectly safe, trust me. Come, 
 Kate, I am ready." Katharine looked at her mother 
 beseechingly. " If you had not promised to go, I 
 should have been looking out for some one else, all 
 this time," continued Mr. Fowler, reproachfully ; 
 " but you seemed to take it all for granted, and I 
 don't understand being put off in this way at the 
 last moment."—" Only just for this one night, dear 
 mother," said Katharine, as she knelt down by 
 Mrs. Ashton's chair ; " and Betsy Carter promised 
 she would be over directly ; I expect her every 
 minute." — " You seem to have settled it all won-
 
 378 KATHAPwINE ASHTOX. 
 
 derfully quick," observed Mrs. Ashton. " It puts 
 me quite in a maze. What time do you say you 
 will be home to-morrow, Kate ? " — "I can't say 
 exactly the hour, but the very first minute I can," 
 replied Katharine. — " And you will be so tired all 
 day, you won't be fit for anything," continued IMrs. 
 Ashton ; " and there's the inventory to be made, 
 and the charwoman coming, and John is to send in 
 the cart from Moorlands." — " And I shall be quite 
 ready for it all," said Katharine, trying to laugh 
 away her mother's difficulties. " You will see rae 
 back again to-morrow before you and Betsy Carter 
 have had your breakfast ; Betsy does not get up 
 very early." — " And then you'll take to your bed 
 all day," persisted Mrs. Ashton. " What do you 
 say, Mr. Fowler ? " — " Why, my dear ma'am, I say 
 that it is getting late, and I must be off; and if you 
 can't spare Miss Katharine, I must needs go and 
 look for some one else. One night's sitting-up 
 won't kill her. She may go to bed early to-morrow 
 and make up for it." — " Well, then, I suppose it 
 must be," said Mrs. Ashton. It was a very un- 
 satisfactory consent, and Katharine at first scarcely 
 felt herself justified in acting upon it; but when 
 Mrs. Ashton had once yielded, Mr. Fowler urged 
 so strongly the use Katharine might be, and the 
 satisfaction Mrs. Forbes would certainly feel in 
 having a person with her whom she knew and 
 cared for, that Mrs. Ashton's heart was quite 
 softened, and her good-bye was very hearty, and ac- 
 companied by the permission not to hurry home too 
 soon the next morning if Katharine felt she could 
 be any real good at Maplestead. 
 
 END or THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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