s had wandered far on
the backward road, as is the foolish habit of thoughts when one grows
old and is not altogether well and strong."--Katherine spoke faintly,
yet with an air of sweetly playful apology. "One is liable to be
confused, under such circumstances, when one first wakes--and--you have
the smell of the sleet and the freshness of the moors upon you." She
paused, and then added:--"But, indeed, the confusion of sleep once
past, I could hardly have anything dearer for my eyes first to light on
than your very dear self."

Hearing which gracious words, indignation in the cause of this woman,
burning compassion for the wrongs and sorrows of universal womanhood,
both of which must be denied utterance, worked very forcibly in
Honoria. She bent down and taking Lady Calmady's hand kissed it. And,
as she did this, her eyes were those of an ardent, yet very reverent
lover, and so, when next she spoke, were the tones of her voice.

But Katherine, still anxious to repair any defect in her recognition
and greeting, and still with that same effect of playful
self-depreciation, spoke first.

"I had been reviewing many things, with the help of blessed Thomas a
Kempis here, before I became so drowsy. The dear man lays his finger
smartly upon all the weak places in one's fancied armour of
righteousness. It is sometimes not quite easy to be altogether grateful
to him. For instance, he has pointed out to me conclusively that I grow
reprehensibly selfish."

"Oh come, come!" Honoria answered, in loving raillery. "Thomas is acute
to the point of lying if he has convinced you of that!"

"Unhappily, no," Katherine returned. "I know it, I fear, without any
pointing of Thomas's finger. But I rather shirked admission of my
knowledge--well, for the very bad reason that I wanted very badly to
put off the day of amendment. Now the holy man has touched my witness
and"--she turned her head against the pillows and looked full at the
younger woman, while her under-lip quivered a little. "My dear, I have
come to be very greedy of the comfort of your companionship. I have
been tempted to consider not your advantage, but solely my own. The
pointing finger of Thomas has brought it home to me that Brockhurst and
I are feeding upon your generosity of time, and helpfulness, to an
unconscionable extent. We are devouring the best days of your life, and
hindering you alike from work and from pleasure. It must not be. And
so, my dear, I beg you go fo