ever happened, of asking whether she might. Her own old tact and charm
were in that tentative burial of the past. In the first line she had all
but won my entire forgiveness; but the very next interfered with the
effect.

"You promised to do anything for me!"

I should be sorry to deny it, I am sure, for not to this day do I know
what I did say on the occasion to which she evidently referred. But was
it kind to break the silence of years with such a reference? Was it even
quite decent in Catherine to ignore my existence until I could be of use
to her, and then to ask the favour in her first breath? It was true, as
she went on to remind me, that we were more or less connected after all,
and at least conceivable that no one else could help her as I could, if
I would. In any case, it was a certain satisfaction to hear that
Catherine herself was of the last opinion. I read on. She was in a
difficulty; but she did not say what the difficulty was. For one
unworthy moment the thought of money entered my mind, to be ejected the
next, as the Catherine of old came more and more into the mental focus.
Pride was the last thing in which I had found her wanting, and her
letter indicated no change in that respect.

"You may wonder," she wrote just at the end, "why I have never sent you
a single word of inquiry, or sympathy, or congratulation!!
Well--suppose it was 'bad blood'!! between us when you went away! Mind,
_I_ never meant it to be so, but suppose it was: could I treat the dear
old you like that, and the Great New You like somebody else? You have
your own fame to thank for my unkindness! _I_ am only thankful they
haven't given you the V.C.!! _Then_ I should _never_ have dared--not
even now!!!"