Catherine; 'I will come for it to-morrow morning.'

And he ran up the drive, conscious at last that it might be prudent to
get himself into something less spongelike than his present attire as
quickly as possible.

The vicar followed him.

'Don't keep Catherine, my dear. There's nothing to tell. Nobody's the
worse.'

Mrs. Thornburgh took no heed. Opening the iron gate she went through it
on to the deserted rain-beaten road, laid both her hands on Catherine's
shoulders, and looked her straight in the eyes. The vicar's anxious hint
was useless. She could contain herself no longer. She had watched them
from the vicarage come down the fell together, had seen them cross the
stepping stones, lingeringly, hand in hand.

'My dear Catherine!' she cried, effusively kissing Catherine's glowing
cheek under the shelter of the laurustinus that made a bower of the
gate. 'My _dear_ Catherine!'

Catherine gazed at her in astonishment. Mrs. Thornburgh's eyes were all
alive, and swarming with questions. If it had been Rose she would have
let them out in one fell flight. But Catherine's personality kept her in
awe. And after a second, as the two stood together, a deep flush rose on
Catherine's face, and an expression of half-frightened apology dawned in
Mrs. Thornburgh's.

Catherine drew herself away. 'Will you please give Mr. Elsmere his
mackintosh?' she said, taking it off; 'I shan't want it this little
way.'

And putting it on Mrs. Thornburgh's arm she turned away, walking quickly
round the bend of the road.

Mrs. Thornburgh watched her open-mouthed, and moved slowly back to the
house in a state of complete collapse.

'I always knew'--she said with a groan--'I always knew it would never go
right if it was Catherine! _Why_ was it Catherine?'

And she went in, still hurling at Providence the same vindictive query.

Meanwhile Catherine, hurrying home, the receding flush leaving a sudden
pallor behind it, was twisting her hands before her in a kind of agony.

'What have I been doing?' she said to herself. 'What have I been doing?'

At the gate of Burwood something made her look up. She saw the girls in
their own room--Agnes was standing behind, Rose had evidently rushed
forward to see Catherine come in, and now retreated as suddenly when she
saw her sister look up.

Catherine understood it all in an instant. 'They, too, are on the
watch,' she thought to herself bitterly. The strong reticent nature was
outraged by the pe