And toward Neil, Joris had also a secret feeling of resentment. He had
taken no pains to woo Katherine until some one else wanted her. It was
universally conceded that he had been the first to draw his sword, and
thus indulge his own temper at the expense of their child's good name
and happiness. Taking these faults as rudimentary ones, Lysbet could
enlarge on them indefinitely; and Joris had undoubtedly been influenced
by his wife's opinions. So, below the smiles and kind words of a long
friendship, there was bitterness. If there had not been, Janet Semple
would hardly have paid that morning visit; for before Lysbet was half
way down the stairs, Katherine heard her call out,-"Here's a bonnie come of. But it is what a' folks expected. 'The
Dauntless' sailed the morn, and Captain Earle wi' a contingent for the
West Indies station. And who wi' him, guess you, but Captain Hyde, and
no less? They say he has a furlough in his pocket for a twelvemonth:
more like it's a clean, total dismissal. The gude ken it ought to be."
So much Katherine heard, then her mother shut to the door of the
sitting-room. A great fear made her turn faint and sick. Were her
father's words true? Was this the meaning of the mysterious wave of the
folded paper toward the ocean? The suspicion once entertained, she
remembered several little things which strengthened it. Her heart failed
her; she uttered a low cry of pain, and tottered to a chair, like one
wounded.
It was then ten o'clock. She thought the noon hour would never come.
Eagerly she watched for Bram and her father; for any certainty would be
better than such cruel fear and suspense. And, if Richard had really
gone, the fact would be known to them. Bram came first. For once she
felt impatient of his political enthusiasm. How could she care about
liberty poles and impressed fishermen, with such a real terror at her
heart? But Bram said nothing; only, as he went out, she caught him
looking at her with such pitiful eyes. "What did he mean?" She turned
coward then, and could not voice the question. Joris was tenderly
explicit. He said to her at once, "'The Dauntless' sailed this morning.
Oh, my little one, sorry I am for thee!"
"Is he gone?" Very low and slow were the words; and Joris only
answered, "Yes."
Without any further question or remark, she went away. They were amazed
at her calmness. And for some minutes after she had locked the door of
her room, she stood still in the middle of the floor, more like one that
has forgotten something, and is trying to remember, than a woman who has
received a blow upon her heart. No tears came to her eyes. She did not
think of weeping, or reproaching, or lamenting. The only questions she
asked herself were, "How am I to get life over? Will such suffering kill
me very soon?"