Chapter 31 - Page 2

morning?" she inquired. "Are you really going to spend the morning with those dull old letters, because if so--"

The dull old letters, which would have turned the heads of the most sober of collectors, were laid upon a table, and, after a moment's pause, Cassandra, looking grave all of a sudden, asked Katharine where she should find the "History of England" by Lord Macaulay. It was downstairs in Mr. Hilbery's study. The cousins descended together in search of it. They diverged into the drawing-room for the good reason that the door was open. The portrait of Richard Alardyce attracted their attention.

"I wonder what he was like?" It was a question that Katharine had often asked herself lately.

"Oh, a fraud like the rest of them--at least Henry says so," Cassandra replied. "Though I don't believe everything Henry says," she added a little defensively.

Down they went into Mr. Hilbery's study, where they began to look among his books. So desultory was this examination that some fifteen minutes failed to discover the work they were in search of.

"Must you read Macaulay's History, Cassandra?" Katharine asked, with a stretch of her arms.

"I must," Cassandra replied briefly.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to look for it by yourself."

"Oh, no, Katharine. Please stay and help me. You see--you see--I told William I'd read a little every day. And I want to tell him that I've begun when he comes."

"When does William come?" Katharine asked, turning to the shelves again.

"To tea, if that suits you?"

"If it suits me to be out, I suppose you mean."

"Oh, you're horrid. . . . Why shouldn't you--?"

"Yes ?"

"Why shouldn't you be happy too?"

"I am quite happy," Katharine replied.

"I mean as I am. Katharine," she said impulsively, "do let's be married on the same day."

"To the same man?"

"Oh, no, no. But why shouldn't you marry--some one else?"

"Here's your Macaulay," said Katharine, turning round with the book in her hand. "I should say you'd better begin to read at once if you mean to be educated by tea-time."

"Damn Lord Macaulay!" cried Cassandra, slapping the book upon the table. "Would you rather not talk?"

"We've talked enough already," Katharine replied evasively.

"I know I shan't be able to settle to Macaulay," said Cassandra, looking ruefully at the dull red cover of the prescribed volume, which, however, possessed a talismanic property, since William admired it. He had advised a little serious reading for the morning hours.

"Have you read Macaulay?" she asked.

"No. William never tried to educate me." As she spoke she saw the light fade from Cassandra's face, as if she had implied some other, more mysterious, relationship. She was stung with compunction. She marveled at her own rashness in having