She began to detect a decided falling off in his
ardour; it was no use trying to hide the fact from herself that
Constance was the most disturbing symptom in evidence. Jealousy
succeeded speculation. Katherine decided to be hateful; she could not
have helped it if she had tried.
It was very evident, to her at least, that Freddie was not to blame; he
was being led on by the artful Miss Fowler. There could be no doubt of
it--none in the least, declared Miss Rodney in the privacy of her own
miserable reflections.
Just as she was on the point of carrying her woes to her mother, an
astounding revelation came to her out of a clear sky; an entirely new
condition came into the problem. It dawned upon her suddenly, without
warning, that Roxbury Medcroft was in love with his sister-in-law!
[Illustration: "She began to detect a decided falling off in his
ardour."]
When she burst in upon her mother, half an hour later, that excellent
lady started up from her couch, alarmed by the excitement in her
daughter's face. Mrs. Rodney, good soul, was one of the kind who always
think the world is coming to an end, or the house is on fire, or the
king has been assassinated, if any one approaches with a look of
distress in his face.
"My dear, my dear!" she cried, as Katherine stopped tragically in the
doorway. "What has happened to your father? Speak!"
"Mamma, it's worse than that! I--"
"Merciful heaven!" The good lady blindly reached for her smelling salts.
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