a little from the subject of William’s perfections。
But Katharine made no sign。 She always ended these
pauses by saying something so natural that Cassandra
was deluded into giving fresh examples of her absorbing
theme。 Then they lunched； and the only sign that
Katharine gave of abstraction was to forget to help the
pudding。 She looked so like her mother； as she sat there
oblivious of the tapioca； that Cassandra was startled into
exclaiming：
“How like Aunt Maggie you look！”
“Nonsense；” said Katharine； with more irritation than
the remark seemed to call for。
In truth； now that her mother was away； Katharine did
feel less sensible than usual； but as she argued it to
herself； there was much less need for sense。 Secretly； she
was a little shaken by the evidence which the morning
had supplied of her immense capacity for—what could
one call it？—rambling over an infinite variety of thoughts
that were too foolish to be named。 She was； for example；
walking down a road in Northumberland in the August
sunset； at the inn she left her panion； who was Ralph
Denham； and was transported； not so much by her own
feet as by some invisible means； to the top of a high hill。
Here the scents； the sounds among the dry heatherroots；
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Night and Day
the grassblades pressed upon the palm of her hand； were
all so perceptible that she could experience each one
separately。 After this her mind made excursions into the
dark of the air； or settled upon the surface of the sea；
which could be discovered over there； or with equal unreason
it returned to its couch of bracken beneath the
stars of midnight； and visited the snow valleys of the
moon。 These fancies would have been in no way strange；
since the walls of every mind are decorated with some
such tracery； but she found herself suddenly pursuing such
thoughts with an extreme ardor； which became a desire
to change her actual condition for something matching
the conditions of her dream。 Then she started； then she
awoke to the fact that Cassandra was looking at her in
amazement。
Cassandra would have liked to feel certain that； when
Katharine made no reply at all or one wide of the mark；
she was making up her mind to get married at once； but
it was difficult； if this were so； to account for some remarks
that Katharine let fall about the future。 She recurred
several times to the summer； as if she meant to
spend that season in solitary wandering。 She seemed to
have a plan in her mind which required Bradshaws and
the names of inns。
Cassandra was driven finally； by her own unrest； to put
on her clothes and wander out along the streets of Chelsea；
on the pretence that she must buy something。 But； in
her ignorance of the way； she became panicstricken at
the thought of being late； and no sooner had she found
the shop she wanted； than she fled back again in order
to be at home when William came。 He came； indeed； five
minutes after she had sat down by the teatable； and she
had the happiness of receiving him alone。 His greeting
put her doubts of his affection at rest； but the first question
he asked was：
“Has Katharine spoken to you？”
“Yes。 But she says she’s not engaged。 She doesn’t seem
to think she’s ever going to be engaged。”
William frowned； and looked annoyed。
“They telephoned this morning； and she behaves very
oddly。 She forgets to help the pudding；” Cassandra added
by way of cheering him。
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“My dear child； after what I saw and heard last night；
it’s not a question of guessing or suspecting。 Either she’s
engaged to him—or—”
He left his sentence unfinished； for at this point
Katharine herself appeared。 With his recollections of the
scene the night before； he was too selfconscious even to
look at her； and it was not until she told him of her
mother’s visit to StratfordonAvon that he raised his eyes。
It was clear that he was greatly relieved。 He looked round
him now； as if he felt at his ease； and Cassandra exclaimed：
“Don’t you think everything looks quite different？”
“You’ve moved the sofa？” he asked。
“No。 Nothing’s been touched；” said Katharine。
“Everything’s exactly the same。” But as she said this； with
a decision which seemed to make it imply that more than
the sofa was unchanged； she held out a cup into which
she had forgotten to pour any tea。 Being told of her forgetfulness；
she frowned with annoyance； and said that
Cassandra was demoralizing her。 The glance she cast upon
them； and the resolute way in which she plunged them
into speech； made William and Cassandra feel like children
who had been caught prying。 They followed her obediently；
making conversation。 Any one ing in might
have judged them acquaintances met； perhaps； for the
third time。 If that were so； one must have concluded that
the hostess suddenly bethought her of an engagement
pressing for fulfilment。 First Katharine looked at her watch；
and then she asked William to tell her the right time。
When told that it was ten minutes to five she rose at
once； and said：
“Then I’m afraid I must go。”
She left the room； holding her unfinished bread and
butter in her hand。 William glanced at Cassandra。
“Well； she is queer！” Cassandra exclaimed。
William looked perturbed。 He knew more of Katharine
than Cassandra did； but even he could not tell—。 In a
second Katharine was back again dressed in outdoor
things； still holding her bread and butter in her bare hand。
“If I’m late； don’t wait for me；” she said。 “I shall have
dined；” and so saying； she left them。
“But she can’t—” William exclaimed； as the door shut；
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Night and Day
“not without any gloves and bread and butter in her hand！”
They ran to the window； and saw her walking rapidly along
the street towards the City。 Then she vanished。
“She must have gone to meet Mr。 Denham；” Cassandra
exclaimed。
“Goodness knows！” William interjected。
The incident impressed them both as having something
queer and ominous about it out of all proportion to its
surface strangeness。
“It’s the sort of way Aunt Maggie behaves；” said
Cassandra； as if in explanation。
William shook his head； and paced up and down the
room looking extremely perturbed。
“This is what I’ve been foretelling；” he burst out。 “Once
set the ordinary conventions aside—Thank Heaven Mrs。
Hilbery is away。 But there’s Mr。 Hilbery。 How are we to
explain it to him？ I shall have to leave you。”
“But Uncle Trevor won’t be back for hours； William！”
Cassandra implored。
“You never can tell。 He may be on his way already。 Or
suppose Mrs。 Milvain—your Aunt Celia—or Mrs。 Cosham；
or any other of your aunts or uncles should be shown in
and find us alone together。 You know what they’re saying
about us already。”
Cassandra was equally stricken by the sight of William’s
agitation； and appalled by the prospect of his desertion。
“We might hide；” she exclaimed wildly； glancing at the
curtain which separated the room with the relics。
“I refuse entirely to get under the table；” said William
sarcastically。
She saw that he was losing his temper with the difficulties
of the situation。 Her instinct told her that an appeal
to his affection； at this moment； would be extremely
illjudged。 She controlled herself； sat down； poured out a
fresh cup of tea； and sipped it quietly。 This natural action；
arguing plete selfmastery； and showing her in
one of those feminine attitudes which William found adorable；
did more than any argument to pose his agitation。
It appealed to his chivalry。 He accepted a cup。 Next
she asked for a slice of cake。 By the time the cake was
eaten and the tea drunk the personal question had lapsed；
and they were discussing poetry。 Insensibly they turned
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from the question of dramatic poetry in general； to the
particular example which reposed in William’s pocket； and
when the maid came in to clear away the teathings；
William had asked permission to read a short passage
aloud； “unless it bored her？”
Cassandra bent her head in silence； but she showed a
little of what she felt in her eyes； and thus fortified； William
felt confident that it would take more than Mrs。 Milvain
herself to rout him from his position。 He read aloud。
Meanwhile Katharine walked rapidly along the street。
If called upon to explain her impulsive action in leaving
the teatable； she could have traced it to no better cause
than that William had glanced at Cassandra； Cassandra at
William。 Yet； because they had glanced； her position was
impossible。 If one forgot to pour out a cup of tea they
rushed to the conclusion that she was engaged to Ralph
Denham。 She knew that in half an hour or so the door
would open； and Ralph Denham would appear。 She could
not sit there and contemplate seeing him with William’s
and Cassandra’s eyes upon them； judging their exact degree
of intimacy； so that they might fix the weddingday。
She promptly decided that she wo