"Yes. There will be a deposit to your credit on the first day of each month until you come of age, when a third of my property will be turned over to you."
The girl flushed deeply, but said nothing except "Thank you." She would have liked to refuse all aid from her mother; but after all, was she not being deprived of her rightful inheritance? Let her mother make what reparation was possible.
To the last moment Kate hoped for some sign of relenting, struggled to find some explanation, some plea, that would draw the girl to her. But those who have formed the habit of ruling, suffer one disadvantage among their fellows: it is impossible for them to become suppliants.
When she started for the train that was to take her to Frankfort, Jemima followed her to the door.
"You will be here when--we return, to-morrow?" Kate's steady voice hid very successfully her agonized suspense.
"Ah!... Then your aunt expects you? She knows what train to meet?"
"Yes, thank you. Professor Thorpe has made all the arrangements. He will put me on the train in Lexington."
Kate bent over her child. "Good-by, my daughter."
Even then the tremble of a lip, a tear on an eyelash, might have brought them into each other's arms. But neither was the sort of woman who weeps in a crisis. They kissed, their lips quite cool and firm.
It was Jacqueline who did the weeping for both of them, and insisted upon sitting in her mother's lap all the way to the station, so that Kate had some difficulty in driving....
Such were the scenes and memories that flitted through Kate's brain all the night before her wedding; and the night was long.
Near morning she slept at last, and dreamed. Somebody stood beside her, smiling down--a stranger, she thought him, till she met his eyes.
"Jacques!" she cried, starting up with hands outstretched. "You, Jacques!"
The consoling vision for which she yearned had come at last; but not as she had seen it before, not in the prime of manhood, strong to hear her burdens. This was an elderly man, stooping, gray-haired, frail. Only the eyes were the same, blue as a child's in his wan face, warm as a caress. He spoke to her. He seemed to promise something.
She awoke with his name on her lips, and saw that it was morning. Peace had come to her with the vision. She faced a new day, a new life, serene and unafraid. What was it that he had promised? No matter. She would ask him when she saw him, soon now.