The worst moments were at dinner. She was, in the first place, sure
that those dark questioning eyes had decided that there must be some
sad cause for her not being trusted to drink her tea elsewhere; and
then, in the pause after the first course, the eyes came again, and
he said, and to her, "I hope your good relations the Wardours are
well."
"Quite well--thank you," faltered Kate.
"When did you see them last?"
"A--a fortnight ago--" began Kate.
"Mr. Wardour came up to London for a few hours," said Lady Barbara,
looking at Kate as if she meant to plunge her below the floor; at
least, so the child imagined.
The sense that this was not the whole truth made her especially
miserable; and all the rest of the evening was one misery of
embarrassment, when her limbs did not seem to be her own, but as if
somebody else was sitting at her little table, walking upstairs, and
doing her work. Even Mrs. Umfraville's kind ways could not restore
her; she only hung her head and mumbled when she was asked to show
her work, and did not so much as know what was to become of her piece
of cross-stitch when it was finished.
There was some inquiry after the De la Poers; and Mrs. Umfraville
asked if she had found some playfellows among their daughters.
"Yes," faintly said Kate; and with another flush of colour, thought
of having been told, that if Lady de la Poer knew what she had done,
she would never be allowed to play with them again, and therefore
that she never durst attempt it.
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