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Peyton, however, tears were the signal of surrender, and, at Kate's side in an instant she hastened to temper her triumph with magnanimity. "Don't think I don't feel with you; but we must both forget ourselves for our boy's sake. I told him I should come back with your promise." The arm she had slipped about Kate's shoulder fell back with the girl's start.
This he quickly lighted, and then, loading a sack of barley for the horse on Jim's shoulders, and lugging a box of hard bread under one arm and of bacon under the other, he led the way up among the rocks until they reached Kate's "field hotel," as he called it. There they dumped their load under the ambulance. Pike whispered a jovial "Go to sleep, old girl.
'I'll take you away, dear, if you'll come. I never liked a woman as I do you. The train call is for ten o'clock. We must contrive something. How are you to meet me at the station? It was Kate's turn then to hesitate. She had never been out of the Potteries in her life; she had been born, reared and married here.
Once again our Kate is in the saddle; once again a Spanish Caballador. But Kate's bridle-hand is deadly cold. And her spurs, that she had never unfastened since leaving the monastic asylum, hung as idle as the flapping sail that fills unsteadily with the breeze upon a stranded ship.
'Lord bless my life! exclaimed Mrs Nickleby. 'To think that that Sir Mulberry Hawk should be such an abandoned wretch as Miss La Creevy says he is, Nicholas, my dear; when I was congratulating myself every day on his being an admirer of our dear Kate's, and thinking what a thing it would be for the family if he was to become connected with us, and use his interest to get you some profitable government place.
"I am going to sleep again now," said the little child. "Good-night, dear Kate; God bless you, and mind you wake me if the pain is bad." At last Mother Agnes stood by Kate's bed side. How pale the poor girl looked and her dark eyes seemed to have grown larger and more pathetic than they used to be. A real gleam of pleasure passed over her face as her eyes rested on Mother Agnes.
"So far as I can make out, a Celt will rather fish than plough, and be a gamekeeper than a workman; but if he be free to follow his own way, a genuine Highlander would rather be a soldier than anything else under the sun." "What better could a man be?" and Kate's eyes sparkled; "they must envy the old times when their fathers raided the Lowlands and came home with the booty.
Thick and low sounded the response of the worshippers. She could hear her grandmother's sonorous voice, a mingling of worldly triumph and indifference; her aunt's plaintive and aggrieved. She could hear Kate's needy and wounded. In imagination she could hear his proud, noble mother's; his younger brother's.
His conduct at the wedding would have to be inquired into, and the marriage that was being arranged would have to be broken off if Kate's flight could be attributed to him. "Now, Pat Connex, we will go to Mrs. M'Shane. I shall want to hear her story." "Sure what story can she tell of me? Didn't I run out of the house away from Kate when I saw what she was thinking of? What more could I do?"
You are a weak, foolish man, Joseph," she added, with a smile, "or else thought me a weak and foolish woman. But all that we can settle hereafter. Thank God that I have found you; and that you are, to all appearances, out of danger." Aunt Prudence looked into Kate's face, and saw that tears were on her cheeks. "Would you have loved him less, Kate," she asked, "if he had been your husband?"
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