Kate quaked a little inwardly, lest it should be about the
Lord Chancellor, and tried to frame a question on the subject to her
aunt; but even the most chattering little girls know what it is to
have their lips sealed by an odd sort of reserve upon the very
matters that make them most uneasy; and just because her wild
imagination had been thinking that perhaps this was all a plot to
waylay her into the Lord Chancellor's clutches, she could not utter a
word on the matter, while they drove through the quiet squares where
lawyers live.
Mrs. Umfraville, however, soon put that out of her head by talking to
her about the Wardours, and setting open the flood gates of her
eloquence about Sylvia. So delightful was it to have a listener,
that Kate did not grow impatient, long as they waited at the lawyer's
door in the dull square, and indeed was sorry when the Colonel made
his appearance. He just said to her that he hoped she was not tired
of waiting; and as she replied with a frightened little "No, thank
you," began telling his wife something that Kate soon perceived
belonged to his own concerns, not to hers; so she left off trying to
gather the meaning in the rumble of the wheels, and looked out of
window, for she could never be quite at ease when she felt that those
eyes might be upon her.
On coming back to the hotel, Mrs. Umfraville found a note on the
table for her: she read it, gave it to her husband, and said, "I had
better go directly.
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