"Come back with me," she answered, "and"--she hesitated a moment, then, feeling that it was better for poor Stephen to have the encounter over at once, since he must bear the pain of it, she busied herself with looking through the open door of the drawing-room, and added,--"You will meet Lord Bulchester there; he is coming this evening." In spite of herself she turned pale, and her eyelids drooped. But Stephen held out his hand with a coolness that she told herself was admirably assumed. "I congratulate you," he said. "He is a much better match than I am. He is a good fellow, too, else I shouldn't be glad, my dear cousin." He had not called her cousin for years, not since their betrothal, and Katie looked up at him. Their eyes met. After her return that evening, and after Stephen had left his uncle's house, she sat talking listlessly with Lord Bulchester. She was thinking over the account of the death of Harwin and of Edmonson. She had learned the details that afternoon. They were dreadful, she thought. She perceived something of the truth as to this duel. She knew now, as she had told her mother before, that Harwin was not a man to love to his death; it was Elizabeth's suitor who had done that. And Katie, at the moment lightly touched by the crime and the horror, sat lost in contemplation of something that did move her deeply. "Yes," she said to herself, "it was she, not I, who had the power. And now? Yes, now, is it still not I? How very strange!" CHAPTER XXXIV. IN THE STORM. Drip! drip! fell the rain that day, two weeks after Stephen Archdale's return from Louisburg. It was an easterly drizzle that, looked at from the window, seemed to be merely time wasted, for the rain appeared to be amounting to nothing; but if one tried it, he found it chilling, penetrating, and gloomy enough. To Archdale, as he plodded through the muddy streets, Boston had never looked so dismal; yet within the last ten days he had tasted enough of its hospitality to have had the memory of its smiling faces lighten his gloom. But another memory overshadowed these. He had not been to see Mistress Royal during his stay in town. He wondered if this neglect seemed strange to her, or if she had not even noticed it. Of course, feted and flattered as she was, the heroine of the hour, though bearing her honors under protest, she had not wasted her thoughts upon him. He was doing her injustice here, and he felt sure of it; she had thought of his meetings with Katie. But her very sympathy was what he wanted least of all; it was as strong a defence as the walls of Louisburg.