The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 199: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

188 THE EVIL GENIUS. nary type. She welcomed the good news, without taking the smallest notice of the expression of self-reproach which had ac- companied it. ‘‘ My dear child, accept the congratulations of your fond old mother. I have never been one of the kissing sort (I mean, of course, where women are concerned); but this is an occasion which justifies something quite out of the common way. Come and kiss me.” Catherine took no notice of that outburst of maternal love. ‘“‘T have forgotten everything that 1 ought to have remem- bered,” she said. ‘‘In my vanity, in my weakness, in my self- ish enjoyment of the passing moment, I have been too su- premely happy even to think of the trials of my past life, and of the false position in which they have placed me toward a man whom I ought to be ashamed to deceive. I have only been re- called to a sense of duty, I might almost say to a sense decency, oy my poor little child. If Kitty had not reminded me of her ather——” Mrs. Presty dropped into a chair; she was really frightened. Her a cheeks trembled like a jelly on a dish that is suddenly moved. ‘‘ Has that man been here ?” she asked. “What man ?” “The man who may break off your marriage if he meet with the captain. Has Herbert Linley been here ?” ‘Certainly not. The one person associated with my troubles whom I have seen to-day is avidin Westerfield.” Mrs. Presty bounced out of her chair. ‘‘ You—have seen— Sydney Westerfield ?” she repeated, with emphatic pauses which expressed amazement tempered by unbelief. ‘‘ Yes; I have seen her.” << W here ?” ‘‘In the garden.” ‘* And spoken to her ?” ‘* Yes.” Mrs. Presty raised her eyes to the ceiling. Whether she ex- pected our old friend, ‘‘ the recording angel,” to take down the questions and answers that had just passed, or whether she was only waiting to see the hotel that held her daughter collapse under a sense of moral responsibility, it is not possible to decide. After an awful pause the old lady remembered that she had something more to say—and said it. ‘‘T make no remark, Catherine; I don’t even want to know what you and Miss Westerfield said to each other. At the same time, as a matter of convenience to myself, I wish to ascertain whether I must leave this hotel or not. The same house doesn’t hold that woman and Mk. Has she gone?” ‘‘She has gone.” Mrs. Presty looked round the room. ‘* And taken Kitty with her ?” she asked. ‘Don’t speak of Kitty!’ Catherine cried, in the greatest dis- tress. ‘‘I have had to keep the poor, innocent, affectionate ECONNICLIOOKS.eO®