It gave Kate a great awe of him, partly because a little girl in a
book would have gone up, slid her hand into his, and kissed him; but
she could nearly as soon have slid her hand into a lion's; and she
was right, it would have been very obtrusive.
Some little time had passed before there was an opening of the door,
and the announcement, "Lord de la Poer."
Up started Kate, but she was quite lost in the greeting of the two
friends; Lord de la Poer, with his eyes full of tears, wringing his
friend's hand, hardly able to speak, but just saying, "Dear Giles, I
am glad to have you at home. How is she?"
"Wonderfully well," said the Colonel, with the calm voice but the
twitching face. "She is gone to see Mrs. Ducie, the mother of a lad
in my regiment, who was wounded at the same time as Giles, and whom
she nursed with him."
"Is not it very trying?"
"Nothing that is a kindness ever is trying to Emily," he said, and
his voice did tremble this time.
Kate had quietly re-seated herself in her chair. She felt that it
was no moment to thrust herself in; nor did she feel herself
aggrieved, even though unnoticed by such a favourite friend.
Something in the whole spirit of the day had made her only sensible
that she was a little girl, and quite forgot that she was a Countess.
The friends were much too intent on one another to think of her, as
she sat in the recess of the window, their backs to her.
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