"You must act chaperone for me, dear Kate, but if strangers are so repugnant to you, I will tell Lord Effingham, and he shall not come here any more."
And Miss Vernon knew very well, whatever her inclination might be, what was expected. Yet there was much in their visitor's conversation that drew her out of herself, and interested her by force of contrast to her own views, although the indolence of depression rendered her averse to the exertion of argument. Besides, Lord Effingham was often apparently unconscious of her presence, and scarcely ever addressed himself to her, so much so, that Lady Desmond had thought herself called upon to make a sort of apology for him.
Yet Kate more than once caught his eyes fixed upon herself, and felt that her few occasional observations were listened to with an attention all the deeper for its unobtrusiveness; in short, she felt certain he remembered her, and watched for some indication, either of consciousness or resentment on her part, while each day rendered her more at ease, as she observed his attentions to her cousin.
The quiet routine of their lives was seldom interrupted.
Lady Desmond sometimes went to town, and generally Lord Effingham's name figured in the same list of distinguished fashionables present at balls, dinners, &c., with her own. Kate began to think that their present intercourse had fallen into a natural channel of indifference, and that the bold stranger of Kensington Gardens, was totally merged in the high-bred reserved earl; but she was mistaken.
One morning a feverish cold confined Lady Desmond to her bed, and the Hampton Court doctor threatened her with every ill "that flesh is heir to," if she did not, by care and submission to a few days seclusion, nip the growing disorder in the bud. Kate was anxious and uneasy about her, the very thought of a sick room made her heart ache.
"Do not look so unhappy about me, love," said her cousin, "it is my will to remain here; I want solitude, I want freedom from external influences; you shall read to me good books."
"Milord, his compliments, is very unhappy to hear your ladyship is ill, and begs to know particularly how you are."
"Oh! Kate, run down to him, will you, dearest, say I am too unwell to see him, for a week to come, at least; you will--observe--there go, darling."