LITMIR.BIZ

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the paper. Kate before she had touched it had seen that it was from her brother George; and as she opened it looked anxiously into Alice’s face. “Has he offended you?” Kate asked.

      “Read it,” said Alice, “and then we’ll talk of it afterwards,—as we go home.” Then she got up from the stone and walked a step or two towards the brow of the fell, and stood there looking down upon the lake, while Kate read the letter. “Well!” she said, when she returned to her place.

      “Well,” said Kate. “Alice, Alice, it will, indeed, be well if you listen to him. Oh, Alice, may I hope? Alice, my own Alice, my darling, my friend! Say that it shall be so.” And Kate knelt at her friend’s feet upon the heather, and looked up into her face with eyes full of tears. What shall we say of a woman who could be as false as she had been, and yet could be so true?

      Alice made no immediate answer, but still continued to gaze down over her friend upon the lake. “Alice,” continued Kate, “I did not think I should be made so happy this Christmas Day. You could not have the heart to bring me here and show me this letter in this way, and bid me read it so calmly, and then tell me that it is all for nothing. No; you could not do that? Alice, I am so happy. I will so love this place. I hated it before.” And then she put her face down upon the boulder-stone and kissed it. Still Alice said nothing, but she began to feel that she had gone further than she had intended. It was almost impossible for her now to say that her answer to George must be a refusal.

      Then Kate again went on speaking. “But is it not a beautiful letter? Say, Alice,—is it not a letter of which if you were his brother you would feel proud if another girl had shown it to you? I do feel proud of him. I know that he is a man with a manly heart and manly courage, who will yet do manly things. Here out on the mountain, with nobody near us, with Nature all round us, I ask you on your solemn word as a woman, do you love him?”

      “Love him!” said Alice.

      “Yes;—love him: as a woman should love her husband. Is not your heart his? Alice, there need be no lies now. If it be so, it should be your glory to say so, here, to me, as you hold that letter in your hand.”

      “I can have no such glory, Kate. I have ever loved my cousin; but not so passionately as you seem to think.”

      “Then there can be no passion in you.”

      “Perhaps not, Kate. I would sometimes hope that it is so. But come; we shall be late; and you will be cold sitting there.”

      “I would sit here all night to be sure that your answer would be as I would have it. But, Alice, at any rate you shall tell me before I move what your answer is to be. I know you will not refuse him; but make me happy by saying so with your own lips.”

      “I cannot tell you before you move, Kate.”

      “And why not?”

      “Because I have not as yet resolved.”

      “Ah, that is impossible. That is quite impossible. On such a subject and under such circumstances a woman must resolve at the first moment. You had resolved, I know, before you had half read the letter;—though, perhaps, it may not suit you to say so.”

      “You are quite mistaken. Come along and let us walk, and I will tell you all.” Then Kate arose, and they turned their back to the lake, and began to make their way homewards. “I have not made up my mind as to what answer I will give him; but I have shown you his letter in order that I might have some one with whom I might speak openly. I knew well how it would be, and that you would strive to hurry me into an immediate promise.”

      “No;—no; I want nothing of the kind.”

      “But yet I could not deny myself the comfort of your friendship.”

      “No, Alice, I will not hurry you. I will do nothing that you do not wish. But you cannot be surprised that I should be very eager. Has it not been the longing of all my life? Have I not passed my time plotting and planning and thinking of it till I have had time to think of nothing else? Do you know what I suffered when, through George’s fault, the engagement was broken off? Was it not martyrdom to me,—that horrid time in which your Crichton from Cambridgeshire was in the ascendant? Did I not suffer the tortures of purgatory while that went on;—and yet, on the whole, did I not bear them with patience? And, now, can you be surprised that I am wild with joy when I begin to see that everything will be as I wish;—for it will be as I wish, Alice. It may be that you have not resolved to accept him. But you would have resolved to refuse him instantly had that been your destined answer to his letter.” There was but little more said between them on the subject as they were passing over the fell, but when they were going down the path through the Beacon Wood, Kate again spoke: “You will not answer him without speaking to me first?” said Kate.

      “I will, at any rate, not send my answer without telling you,” said Alice.

      “And you will let me see it?”

      “Nay,” said Alice; “I will not promise that. But if it is unfavourable I will show it you.”

      “Then I shall never see it,” said Kate, laughing. “But that is quite enough for me. I by no means wish to criticise the love-sweet words in which you tell him that his offences are all forgiven. I know how sweet they will be. Oh, heavens! how I envy him!”

      Then they were at home; and the old man met them at the front door, glowering at them angrily from out his old leonine eyes, because the roast beef was already roasted. He had his great uncouth silver watch in his hand, which was always a quarter of an hour too fast, and he pointed at it fiercely, showing them the minute hand at ten minutes past the hour.

      “But, grandpapa, you are always too fast,” said Kate.

      “And you are always too slow, miss,” said the hungry old squire.

      “Indeed, it is not five yet. Is it, Alice?”

      “And how long are you going to be dressing?”

      “Not ten minutes;—are we, Alice? And, grandpapa, pray don’t wait.”

      “Don’t wait! That’s what they always say,” he muttered, peevishly. “As if one would be any better waiting for them after the meat is on the table.” But neither Kate nor Alice heard this, as they were already in their rooms.

      Nothing more was said that evening between Alice and Kate about the letter; but Kate, as she wished her cousin good night inside her bedroom door, spoke to her just one word—”Pray for him tonight,” she said, “as you pray for those you love best.” Alice made no answer, but we may believe that she did as she was desired to do.

Chapter XXXII.

       Containing an Answer to the Love Letter

       Table of Contents

      Alice had had a week allowed to her to write her answer; but she sent it off before the full week was past. “Why should I keep him in suspense?” she said. “If it is to be so, there can be no good in not saying so at once.” Then she thought, also, that if this were to be her destiny it might be well for Mr Grey that all his doubts on the matter should be dispelled. She had treated him badly,—very badly. She had so injured him that the remembrance of the injury must always be a source of misery to her; but she owed to him above everything to let him know what were her intentions as soon as they were settled. She tried to console herself by thinking that the wound to him would be easy to cure. “He also is not passionate,” she said. But in so saying she deceived herself. He was a man in whom Love could be very passionate;—and was, moreover, one in whom Love could hardly be renewed.

      Each morning Kate asked her whether her answer was written; and on the third day after Christmas, just before dinner, Alice said that she had written it, and that it was gone.

      “But it isn’t post-day,” said Kate;—for the post illuminated Vavasor but three days

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