t feverish interest--in outside matters, were
the only weapons with which she could fight the gnawing, aching pain of
ceaseless regret that wore her heart. How insignificant is the loss of
fortune, and all that fortune brings, compared to the opening of an
impassable gulf between one's self and what has grown dearer than self,
by that magic, inexplicable force of attraction which can rarely be
resisted or explained!

Life with Mrs. Needham was very active, and although Katherine was
necessarily left a good deal at home, she saw quite enough of society
in the evening to satisfy her. The all-accomplished Angela Bradley
showed a decided inclination to fraternize with Mrs. Needham's
attractive secretary, but for some occult reason Katherine did not
respond. She fancied that Miss Bradley was disposed to look down with
too palpably condescending indulgence from the heights of her own calm
perfections on those storms in a teacup amid which Mrs. Needham
agitated, with such sincere belief in her own powers to raise or to
allay them. Yet Miss Bradley was a really high-minded woman, only a
little too well aware of her own superiority. She was always a favored
guest at the "Shrubberies," as Mrs. Needham's house was called, and of
course an attraction to Errington, who was also a frequent visitor. The
evenings, when some of the _habitues_ dropped in on their way to
parties, or returning from the theatre (Mrs. Needham never wanted to go
to bed!), were bright and amusing. Moreover, Katherine had complete
liberty of movement. If Mrs. Needham were going out without her
secretary, Katherine was quite free to spend the time with Miss Payne,
or with Rachel Trant, whom she found more interesting. At the house of
the former she generally found Bertie ready to escort her home, always
kindly and deeply concerned about her, but more than ever determined to
convert her from her uncertain faith and worldly tendencies, to
Evangelicalism and contempt for the joys of this life.

Already the days of her heirship seemed to have been wafted away far
back, and the routine of the present was becoming familiar. There was
nothing oppressive in it. Yet she could not look forward. Hope had long
been a stranger to her. Never, since her mother's death, since she had
fully realized the bearings of her own reprehensible act, had she known
the joy of a light heart. Some such ideas were flitting through her mind
as she was diligently copying Mrs. Needham's lucubr