new that her instinct had, for a space at
least, been murderous. She knew that, given equal provocation, it would
be murderous again.

And this was, after all, but the active, objective aspect of the
matter. The passive and subjective aspect showed danger also. In her
extremity Katherine's soul cried out for God--for the sure
resting-place only to be found by conscious union of the individual
with the eternal will. But such repose was denied her. For her anger
against God, even while thus earnestly desiring Him, was even more
profound than her anger against man. The passion of those terrible
early days when her child's evil fortune first became known to
her--held in abeyance all these years by constant employment and the
many duties incident to her position--returned upon her in its first
force. To believe God is not, leaves the poor human soul homeless,
sadly desolate, barren in labour as is a slave. But the sorrow of such
belief is as a trifle beside the hideous fear that God is careless and
unjust, that virtue is but a fond imagination of all-too-noble human
hearts, that the everlasting purpose is not good but evil continually.
And, haunted by such fears, Katherine once again sat in outer darkness.
All gracious things appeared to her as illusions; all gentle delights
but as passing anodynes with which, in his misery, man weakly tries to
deaden the pain of existence for a little space. She suffered a
profound discouragement.

And so it seemed to her but as part of the cruel whole when history
repeated itself yet further, and Dr. Knott, pausing at the door of
Richard's bedroom, turned and said to her:--

"It will be better, you know, Lady Calmady, to let him face it alone.
He'll feel it less without you. Winter can give me all the assistance I
want." Then he added, a queer smile playing about his loose
lips:--"Don't be afraid. I'll handle him very gently. Probably I shan't
hurt him at all--certainly not much."

"Ah!" Katherine said, under her breath.

"You see it is done by his own wish," John Knott went on.

"I know," she answered.

She respected and trusted this man, entertained for him,
notwithstanding his harsh speech and uncouth exterior, something akin
to affection. Yet remembering the part he had played in the fate of the
father, it was very dreadful to her that he should touch the child. And
Dr. Knott read her thought. He did not resent it. It was all natural
enough! From his heart he was sorry for her