There was flattery in the answer. "It will mean Covent Garden if it
depends on that," Dermott said.
"Thank you," she replied; and in the conventionality of the response she
realized anew that the jesting-time was by between them and she had a
man to reckon with.
"To-morrow," he said, "Josef has written me that, with your permission,
I may hear you sing. Have I that permission, Katrine?"
"You have," she answered, noting the handsome line of the bent head and
shoulders.
"To-morrow at two?"
"To-morrow at two. And then," said Katrine, "you will see for yourself
what I've been doing, so there's no use discussing it, is there? Tell me
of yourself and Barney. Does the newspaper work go well?"
"He's doing splendidly. He's more than making good."
"And the land you purchased in North Carolina! Do the eagles flourish on
it?" she inquired.
"Not yet. But there's excellent clay there, and I've turned it into a
brick factory for the present. The truth is, I needn't have bought that
land. I suppose you've heard of the new railroad through Ravenel?" he
asked.
"Something," she said, "but not definitely."
"They're building it on the other side from the 'Eagle Tract,'" he
explained, smiling at the words. "Mr. Ravenel is practically putting the
thing through himself. Do you know, Katrine," he continued, "I think I
have underrated Ravenel. Sometimes in the last year, when I've seen him
clearing obstacles from his path," and the way Dermott knew how to
belittle a rival was plainly shown in the pitying tone he used here,
"I've almost admired him. I have sometimes thought if circumstances had
been different he might have even been something of a man."
But Katrine's utter honesty was a thing Dermott had not calculated upon.
"Dermott," she said, "I have always tried to be frank with you, haven't
I?"
"And at times," he broke in, with a smile, "have succeeded
discouragingly well."
"I want to be so still. Madame de Nemours has told me the story of
Ravenel."
McDermott waited, serene, inspiredly silent.
"But," Katrine went on, "I was a bit prepared for it. Almost the last
thing father said to me before he died was that you were planning
trouble for Mr. Ravenel."
McDermott waited still, but with a sterner look upon his keen and ardent
face.
"Madame de Nemours has told me you need only a paper and a certain
witness at Tours to carry out your purpose. Is it true?"
"It is."
"And that purpose is--" She hesitated.
"To see justice done to Madame de Nemours," he answered.
"It will mean that Mr. Ravenel has no right either to his home or his
name?"
The pleading and protest in her voice did not escape Dermott as he
answered:
"It will mean just that!"
"And nothing can move you from your purpose?"
"Nothing that I can now think of," he answered, adding with some
vehemence: "Katrine Dulany, is it that you know me so little? My cousin
suffered much. She was deserted by a scoundrel while little more than a
child. These things must be paid for. But if you think I'd do a crooked
thing in business to settle a grudge or belittle a rival, you don't know
me at all. There's none, not Ravenel himself, who will demand everything
proven beyond doubt sooner than I. I'll take every point I can honestly,
but the man who is not absolutely honest in business is a fool. Until he
learns to be honest from the higher reason, he should be honest from
selfishness. It pays. It's capital."
"Then you believe the cause just?"
"I believe that the present Ravenel's father married in America knowing
that he had a living wife and child in France."
Katrine stood, hand-clasped, looking straight into Dermott's eyes. But
what she saw was an old garden in Carolina, wind-blown pines, the
scarlet creepers around an old bench, and a man with blanched face and
restless eyes; what she heard, underneath Dermott's voice, were words
from the past:
_"I might lie to you, but the thing that separates us is family pride,
family pride. I am going away to-day, going because I do not dare to
stay!"_
"Nothing else in life could hurt Mr. Ravenel as this thing will if
proven," she said, at length.
"Naturally not," McDermott answered, succinctly; "but it is not proven
yet," he added, in an impartial tone, adding, "I have not been able to
find the witness I need."
Was it Katrine's imagination that made her think the door moved suddenly
as by human agency? Had some of the servants been listening? She paused
in her talk, and, looking into the hall, saw Quantrelle the Red pass
quickly up the stairs with his daily flower for Madame de Nemours.
"And, believing that Ravenel did not belong to Mr. Ravenel," she
continued, "you encouraged him to build the railroad?"
"I neither encouraged nor discouraged that enterprise," Dermott
answered. "Fate steered, and did it well."
"And Mrs. Ravenel?" The name, as she spoke it, was a remonstrance.
"Mademoiselle Dulany," Dermott answered, "indeed you've a wrong
conception of the matter. There is to be no stage play or newspaper work
in the case. It will be quietly adjusted. The Ravenels are not people to
permit any publicity. There will be compromises. Mrs. Ravenel, I hope,
need never know the facts in the case. There is none need ever know,
save Frank."
"You have never liked him, have you, Dermott?" Katrine asked, with
directness.
"Never," Dermott answered, with a frankness matching her own.
"Why?"
"Faith, and there are three excellent reasons," Dermott returned, with
something of his old manner: "He was himself; I was myself; and a
third," he paused, with all the power of his personality in his great
gray eyes, "a third," he repeated, "which I hope some time to explain to
you at great length, little Katrine."