“Remember, Miss Katherine, that all my books are at your service,” said the rector, coming in to the end of the drawing-room where Katherine had made herself comfortable behind the screens; “and if you would like me to look at your essay, and make perhaps a few suggestions before you send it in----” “I was not writing any essay. I was only writing to--my sister,” said Katherine. “To be sure. It is the India mail day, I remember. Excuse me for coming to interrupt you. What a thing for her to have a regular correspondent like you! You still think I couldn’t be of any use to say a word to your father? You know that I am always at your disposition. Anything I can do----” “You are very good, but I don’t think it would be of any use.” Katherine shivered a little, as she always did at the dreadful thought of anyone hearing what her father said. “I am only good to myself when I try to be of use to you,” the rector said, and he added, with a little vehemence, “I only wish you would understand how dearly I should like to think that you would come to me in any emergency, refer to me at once, whatever the matter might be----” “Indeed, Mr. Stanley, I understand, and I do,” she said, raising her eyes to his gratefully. “You remember how I appealed to you that dreadful time, and how much--how much you did for us?” “Ah, you sent Burnet to me,” he said, “that’s not exactly the same. Of course, I did what I could; but what I should like would be that you should come with full confidence to tell me anything that vexes you, or to ask me to do anything you want done, like----” “I know,” she said. “Like Charlotte and Evelyn. And, indeed, I should, indeed I will--trust me for that.” The rector drew back, as if she had flung in his face the vase of clear water which was waiting on the table beside her for the flowers she meant to put in it. He gave an impatient sigh and walked to the window, with a little movement of his hands which Katherine did not understand. “Oh, has it begun to snow?” she said, for the sky was very grey, as if full of something that must soon overflow and fall, and everybody had been expecting snow for twenty-four hours past. “No, it has not begun to snow,” he said. “It is pelting hailstones--no, I don’t mean that; nothing is coming down as yet--at least, out of the sky. Perhaps I had better leave you to finish your letter.” “Oh, there is no hurry about that. There are hours yet before post-time, and I have nearly said all I have to say. I have been telling her I am studying India. It is a big subject,” Katherine said. “And how kind you and Dr. Burnet were, getting this series of lectures instead of another for me--though I think everybody is interested, and the pictures are beautiful with the limelight.”