"I love Loftus. He gives me pain, but that can be borne, for I love
him."

At this moment Mrs. Bertram's tall figure was seen standing on the steps
of the house. It was getting dark; a heavy dew was falling, and the air
was slightly, pleasantly chill after the intense heat of the day. Mrs.
Bertram had wrapped a white fleecy cloud over her head. She descended
the steps, stood on the broad gravel sweep, and looked around her.

"We are here, mother," said May, jumping up. "Do you want us?"

"I want Catherine. Don't you come, Mabel. I want Catherine alone."

"Keep Loftus's letter," said Catherine, tossing it into her sister's
lap. "I know by mother's tone she is troubled. Don't let us show her the
letter to-night. Put it in your pocket, May."

Aloud she said,--

"Yes, mother, I'm coming. I'll be with you directly." She ran across the
grass, looking slim and pale in her white muslin dress, her face full of
intense feeling, her manner so hurried and eager that her mother felt
irritated by it.

"You need not dash at me as if you meant to knock me down, Kate," she
said.

"You said you wanted me, mother."

"So I did, Catherine. I do want you. Come into the house with me."