Kate Vernon, Vol. 2 (of 3)

It seemed as if the advent of the warm-hearted, practical little artist had broken the sad depressing spell which had been gathering closer and closer round her spirit since she had left A – . Winter was a stout and active pedestrian, and leaning on his arm, Kate bade defiance to the most persevering and mysterious stranger that ever crossed heroine's path. The Colonel too was wonderfully revived by the presence of his kind and valued friends, and, strange to say, even Cormac, who when left at A – was too savage to be approached by his temporary keeper, was most sociable and condescending with him in London.

One morning, Mr. Langley called, and after sitting in a sort of preoccupied silence for some time, with some hesitation and much awkwardness, suggested that he wished to invite his friend Winter and his wife to dinner, and as the Colonel and Miss Vernon were so fond of their society, perhaps they would consent to encounter the discomfort of a bachelor's ménage and meet them.

The Colonel and Kate assented most graciously, and the party, reinforced by Galliard and Mr. and Mrs. Story, met the next day at what Winter termed "grub hour."

Contrary to her expectations Kate spent a most agreeable day; Langley, like many shy persons, shone in his own house, Winter was most amusingly argumentative, Galliard witty, and the Colonel cheerful and urbane as usual; while Mrs. Storey's repeated apologies for the irregularities of a bachelor's ménage, and Mr. Winter's reiterated assurances that every thing was in admirable order, kept up an under current of polite common-place, that amused Kate exceedingly, by its contrast to the prevailing tone of the conversation.

"You have visited the British Museum?" enquired Galliard.

"Only, once," said Kate, "and that hurriedly, I long to go again."

"There is a great lot of trash there," observed Winter.

"What treason," returned Galliard, "it has all cost money, and John Bull is content."

"Of course," said Langley, "you will have your sneer at John Bull."

"Why not? I am, you know, half English."

"Come, Mr. Langley," said Kate, "the English you will admit, are not very sparing of their neighbours."

"They do not make much allowance for any peculiarities, except their own, certainly," remarked Colonel Vernon.

"You are in such a decided minority, you Celts, you had better hold your tongues," cried Winter.

"But what is it you call trash, at the British Museum?" asked Kate.

"Oh, the mummies, and the wigs, and all that; such an embarras of mummies can hardly be conceived!" said Winter.

"I wish we could bring the Gheber mode of disposing of the dead into fashion again; I shall certainly leave a clause in my will that my body shall be burned," observed Galliard.

"Law, Mr. Galliard, what an idea," said Mrs. Storey.

"Why not? my dear madam."

"I always liked Zoroaster and the fire worshippers," said Kate, "their system appears to me the least degrading of all ancient religions."

"Humph! Miss Vernon used to insist that the round towers of Ireland were built by the Western Ghebers," remarked Winter.

"It is quite possible!" responded Galliard.

"Any thing so far beyond our historical period may be possible," observed Langley.

"Ah," said Galliard, "you consider them anterior to the Celtic invasions, Miss Vernon?"

"The author, whose writings on the subject I have read, thought so," replied Kate.

"Galliard's strong point is Celtic antiquity," said their host.

"It is a subject full of profound and melancholy interest," he replied.

"Why melancholy?" asked Winter.

"Because," rejoined Galliard, "of the contrast between their past and present."

"The strongest proof they were an inferior race," said Langley, "otherwise they would not have given way so rapidly before the Saxons."

"A thoroughly English observation," cried Galliard. "You are poor and powerless, therefore you deserve to be so."

"That's not a fair commentary," said Langley.

"There are two causes, which, to a reflective mind, sufficiently explain, the deterioration of the Celtic race, morally and physically," observed Galliard, thoughtfully.

"And they are?" asked Kate.

"Their quick fancy, and unselfish nature."

"How do you make that out?" said Winter.

"First, the Saxon sees distinctly but one end or object, to the attainment of which his every faculty is devoted. The Celt's livelier imagination presents him with half a dozen, at all of which he grasps with equal eagerness, and thus his powers are divided and dispersed. Secondly, a Saxon's first thought is of himself, and in this he is consistent; while, owing to the peculiarity of fallen humanity, the Celt's self-forgetfulness is inconsistent; thus, place a Saxon where you will, he possesses in himself a nucleus round which all his energies, hopes, and projects centre; and having a centre, stands. While the Celt works one day for himself, the next for a friend, the next to spite an enemy, the next to do him a service, and so he is, finally, nowhere. Your Saxon will have no objection to do all this in a lump, if it does not interfere with his own interests," and Galliard leaned back and took snuff.

"So," said Colonel Vernon, "our greatest errors spring from our noblest qualities!"

"The noblest qualities of mankind! It is man's fate!" returned Galliard.

"You argue ingeniously; but – " said Langley.

"But truly," interrupted Galliard. "What was it chained the French nation to Napoleon? Imagination! What enabled Bruce to conquer Edward at Bannockburn? Imagination! What rivets the heart of the Irish peasant to the flattering demagogue, or arms his hand against his landlord? Imagination!"

"And the want of a Cogitative nose," put in Winter.

"There's an upset for you, mounseer," said Mr. Storey.

"Really," said Mrs. Storey, "I think, Mrs. Winter, we had better leave the gentlemen to fight it out."

They all rose.

"And," continued Galliard, as he opened the door, "though the want of imagination may render the Saxon successful, its presence always makes the Celt beloved."

"You are right," said Miss Vernon, as she passed him, with a bow.

But pleasant intervals soon come to an end, and the last week of Mr. and Mrs. Winter's intended stay approached. Before it arrived, however, Miss Herman paid Kate a visit, and introduced her to some additional pupils, with whom, however, she agreed not to begin her lessons until after her friends' departure.

"I cannot bear to think of losing you," said Kate, one cold, sharp evening, Winter had walked to meet her, on her way back from Brompton. "Do pray put off your departure till after Christmas, I have so dreaded Christmas, alone in London, and you have nothing to hurry you away."

"Hum, let me see; I have already delayed a fortnight longer than I intended, another week will not make much difference. Ha, you little witch, I cannot say you nay; but after that not an hour."

"Ten thousand, thousand thanks, dear, kind friend; you have made me so happy."

"Now we are tête-à-tête, tell me how affairs go on; any news of the lawsuit?"

"Why yes, grandpapa gets frequent letters from Mr. Moore, who, it seems, is always filing bills, and making motions, very slow ones, I fear, for they never seem to produce any result."

Winter groaned.

"And yourselves? how is – how is – you know I am a bear – how is the purse?"

Marvellously, considering how fast your hundred went; but nurse has got quite into the London ways, and quite saves us a fortune now; and my pupils, and the new ones! Oh, we shall do very well – if – if dear grandpapa only could look like his own old self."

"Well, I have thirty pounds of his I must not run away with. Have you Lady Desmond's cheque?"

"Yes, quite safe."

"Well, be sure you keep it; sickness may come, a thousand things. How is your lady cousin?"

"Quite well; always, in her letters, talking of coming home, and never coming."

"Just as I expected."

"And you are bent on wintering at Pau?"

"Yes, and in the spring we intend crossing the Pyrenees; I long to see more of Spain; but, Kate, if you want me really, if, in short, illness should – that is, should the time ever come, you might want a home, Sue and myself look upon you as a daughter, write to me, at once, wherever I may be."

"Good God! Mr. Winter, do you think grandpapa so ill? do you anticipate – "

"Dear child, no, a thousand times no; but at parting I should like you to feel that it is only distance that can separate us, and that at any, and every time, I shall feel as a father towards you, and a proud father!"

"My dear, dear friend! surely God has been very gracious to me; I will not try to thank you in words, they sound so cold!"

They walked on in silence, which Winter broke, by exclaiming abruptly.

"That letter of nurse's son was most characteristic! There is some good stuff in the writer."

Then, after another pause, as if he had expected some remark from Kate.

"It is odd Egerton should send it without a line; I cannot make it out; only that letters seldom miscarry, I should say he had written a despatch himself, independent of the other; but pooh, that is highly improbable. Has Mrs. O'Toole replied to her son's epistle?"

"Yes, that is I acted as her secretary, last week; when do you think the letter will reach Dennis?"

"Oh, heaven knows, they are up the country, and, I fancy, not very settled; perhaps in two or three months."

Kate sighed.

"Hey! Miss Vernon, what was that sigh for?"

"Oh, I was thinking of last Christmas, we were a very pleasant party, though poor Captain, I mean Major Egerton, was so terribly in the blues about leaving England; and now how different everything is! how silently and gradually a great gulf has been opened between the past and the present!"

"Well, well, it is melancholy enough, not to be either a pleasant or a profitable subject of cogitation. Forward, forward, as your favourite, Longfellow, says,

'Let the dead past, bury it's dead,Act, act, in the living present,Heart within, and God o'er head!'"

"A word in season, how good it is!" returned Miss Vernon, smiling pensively.

"Well, here we are, I wonder what Mrs. Winter will say to your powers of persuasion?"

"She will be delighted – she dreads the journey."

"Pooh, not she; as long as I am with her, she thinks all must go well."

"A pattern wife!" sighed Kate.

"Yes; no wife can be happy if she does not feel this. Ah, Kate, Kate, I wish you had a good husband!"

"Like yourself! eh, Mr. Winter! but alas!"

"Now, no quizzing, if you please! I'm glad we are at the end of our trajet, if you are going to laugh at me."

The gradually silent change in the Colonel's health and spirits, which had escaped the every-day watchfulness of even Kate's tender guardianship, struck Winter, whose perception was quickened by the, to him, unshaded transition from light to gloom, caused by the cessation of their daily intercourse, with grief and dismay; nor did he rest until he had persuaded his venerated friend to accompany him to an eminent physician, though the Colonel protested, he had not a single symptom of which he could reasonably complain. The doctor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and tried his lungs, asked a good many questions, seemingly irrelevant, as to his spirits, &c., wrote a short prescription, recommended horse exercise, took his fee, and bowed them out. Winter looked dissatisfied; and as he handed the Colonel into the cab, which was waiting for them, suddenly recollected he had forgotten his snuff-box, he returned to the room, but in vain, for the bland physician merely repeated – "Nothing physical, I assure you, sir – mental depression – imaginative disorder."

"Have you found your box?" asked the Colonel, with a significant smile, at least, to Winter's conscience it appeared so. The worthy artist reddened, and replied, gruffly, in the affirmative.

Kate never before felt so profoundly sad, as the day the Winters started for Dover. When she had parted from them at A – , there was the bustle and excitement of the journey, and the expected arrival at a new place, to divert her thoughts. Now she had full time to feel, how much alone she was, how much dependent on her own judgment, her own strength, her own efforts.

The travellers did not leave till after an early dinner, and the long, desolate evening, its usual occupations broken in upon and deranged, dragged its weary length slowly by, though the Colonel, by a brave effort, seemed more cheerful than usual, and talked of Paris, and the people he had known there, and of Bordeaux, and how the claret used to be smuggled into the west of Ireland, of Hoche, and of the French invasion. And Mrs. O'Toole brought in her work, and both endeavoured to keep up their darling's heart.

She could only remember that it was the anniversary of Egerton's departure for India, and that to-morrow she was to give an early lesson to her new pupils.

"Good night, dearest grandpapa, and do not forget to take your bottle, you coughed a great deal to-day."

CHAPTER IX.

TRIALS

Before entreating the reader to imagine the lapse of some months, unbroken by any event, we must record one which was a fertile theme of conversation and conjecture to our recluses. Kate was met by Mrs. O'Toole, almost at the garden gate, one morning, about a fortnight after the Winters had left them, as she returned from her daily perambulations.

"Och! come in, Agra! sure there's great news entirely! there's the Captin's been murthuring all afore him, in Ingee, an' such a tundherin' battle! the masther's tired waitin' for ye."

"What's all this nurse is telling me, grandpapa?"

"Oh, the Indian mail is in, and has brought an account of a hard-fought battle between our fellows and those desperate Sikhs. Egerton's name is most honourably mentioned. Langley has very kindly sent me the second edition of the "Times," there it is, read it for yourself."

And Kate, untying her bonnet, seized the paper, and throwing herself into the nearest chair, read the official account, which, dry as it was, sufficed to flush her cheek, and set all her pulses throbbing.

"Lieutenant Colonel A – , having been severely wounded in the beginning of the action, Major Egerton led the – Lancers, in repeated charges on the enemies' guns, which were defended with a courage and determination indicative of European training; but they were in the possession of the Lancers before four o'clock. I have great pleasure in drawing your lordship's attention to the conduct of this regiment generally, and in particular to that of the gallant officer in command, whom I beg to recommend to your lordship's notice."

"Ah, that is delightful; I dare say Captain Egerton does not regret having gone to India now! It does not say if he was wounded? Are there any private letters?" turning the paper in every direction.

"No, not until next mail, I fancy."

"What news for Mr. and Mrs. Winter," she continued; "how he will rejoice, and grumble, and pooh, pooh, over it."

"Och, the crathure!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Toole, who, as usual, on any occasion of excitement, was always at hand; "his soul 'ud niver rouse up at the word iv a fight; he's not got the blood in his vains for it. Sure, it's only the ould stock that's niver to say in rale pleasure, if they're not in the middle iv divilmint an' danger, jest look at Miss Kate's eyes, like two dimints, this minit. Though I'll go bail she's as white as a sheet at the sight iv a cut-finger, her heart's chargin the Sicks with the Captin. Sicks indeed! faith, he sickened thim sure enough; but it was on a boy's milk ye wor rared, avourneen, so it's no wondher."

"I do feel excited," said Kate, laughing; "some strange sympathy with – I do not know what! for in how many things I am a coward?"

"I believe it is the blood in your veins, Kate," returned the Colonel. "Nurse is right."

"Athen, if poor little Misther Gilpin, (the heavens be his bed,) was alive now, what a power iv rale sinse he'd talk about it; wouldn't he lay all the battles to the divil's door; well, they're terrible heart-breakin' things, entirely; an' the dear knows where me poor Dinny is this blessed night – may be, asleep in a ditch, or – but faith, any ways he's alive, I feel that as sure as if I seen him livin' fornent me!"

The great news occupied many a circle beside that which we are attempting to describe, and day after day brought further particulars, private letters, and all the copious information so abundantly supplied by that fourth estate of the British Empire, the public press. In many of these, Egerton's name was mentioned, always with praise, often with enthusiasm; his coolness and undaunted gallantry in some hand to hand encounters; and the desperate stand made by the regiment he commanded, under great disadvantages, left an impression of something chivalrous and heroic, even on the minds of strangers. Kate, indeed, calling to mind the maxims of Winter, and the organist, sometimes felt that she ought not to feel so much delight in a courage that, after all, is generally shared by every healthy man; still, in spite of her reasoning, Egerton's image, invested with a prestige it never before possessed, constantly occupied her mind. Perhaps she did not know how dauntless was her own nature, and that there is irresistible attraction even to the most intellectual, in the courage, physical though it be, than can face death and danger, as if at home and at ease in the midst of both – this contempt of what it is natural to dread must partake more of the soul than philosophers allow, and is one certain element of greatness.

And so the winter slipped rapidly over; there was little to mark its flight; the constant sameness of occupation, without any incident to mark it, lent its wings to time; yet was it not all heaviness. A day of somewhat lighter spirits, and greater strength, would sometimes lend its brightening influence to the Colonel; and Kate revelled in the unwonted sunshine; or Langley would lend her some new work suggestive of much thought; and clearing, for the moment, the mist which wraps itself round spiritual things, granting a passing glimpse, catching a faint echo of the glorious harmony with which all nature blends in the Great Creator's scheme of happiness; and then the sameness or obscurity, which an hour before seemed oppressive in its meanness, acquired dignity from the thought, that it had its place allotted in the mighty whole. And she would turn with perfect content to bend her bright intelligence to the perfect comprehension and performance of those every-day duties which act to society as mortar to a wall, filling up the crevices, binding the unadhesive parts, and keeping the whole together.

Two months had fully elapsed, since the news of the battle of – had reached England; letters from the Winters had announced them safely settled at Pau, and charmed with it. And one cold, bleak evening, Kate was engaged arranging some lines she had selected from amongst many, written by Gilpin's sister, to a very beautiful air bequeathed to her by the organist; the work did not progress as rapidly as it seemed, as her thoughts were divided by many mundane subjects, principally the necessity for looking out for cheaper lodgings.

"Nurse says it is so hard to manage; I must ask her to meet me to-morrow on my way home, and look for some other house – I mean rooms. I am afraid to mention it to dear grandpapa, he is so ill, and worn out with that dreadful cough – it is much worse to-day. How I wish Georgina would write! it is nearly a year since she invited us to join her at Florence, and talked of returning. Oh! how alone we are! I wonder shall I ever, ever live near my old friends, or among my own people again! God forgive the murmuring thought."

And here her reflections were broken by the Colonel, who suddenly starting from an uneasy slumber, coughed with more than usual violence; then as Kate, with some vague idea of assisting him, flew to his side, it suddenly stopped, with a choking sound, and he fell back, the blood pouring from his mouth.

To summon nurse, to send for a doctor, was the work of a moment; and before their anxious efforts to recall the Colonel to consciousness were successful, he arrived; then there were innumerable questions to answer, and various restoratives to be procured; and Kate had literally no time to feel the terror and dismay which afterwards rushed upon her mind.

The old man lay long insensible; and it was during a pause, occasioned by the exhaustion of every remedy that could possibly be applied in haste, that he breathed faintly, at last, and opening his eyes, smiled, when he met those of his beloved grandchild. The doctor immediately forbad his speaking, and directed that every precaution for the preservation of extreme quiet around him should be taken.

"This is the great point," he observed, when, after a lengthened visit, he was about to take leave. "I will write a prescription, and see it made up myself; he must take it every two hours, in a glass of port wine; but if he should be very sound asleep, do not disturb him; his strength must be kept up."

Kate took her station by her grandfather's bed-side. Nurse stationed herself in the next room; and the long watches of the night passed slowly over.

The Colonel lay motionless and deadly pale; but he did not sleep; for whenever Kate stole softly to his side, at the appointed times for his taking the medicine, he always, as if by instinct, opened his eyes; and who can tell, who can venture to depict the crowd of images, too vague for thought, too clear for dreams, which thronged Kate's mind, as she sat listening now to each scarce audible breath, from the invalid, now to the loud beating of her own heart; it was not fear or sorrow that seemed to hold her faculties in a strange tension, but an agonised absorption in the present danger, a dread, none the less intense because it was vague, that her darkest hour was at hand! connected prayer was out of the question; but frequent ejaculations for help, for strength, rose unconsciously to her lips. Towards morning, the Colonel sank into a quiet, profound sleep, and leaving nurse in charge of him, with directions to call her the moment he awoke, Kate threw herself into his vacant chair, and strove to still her throbbing pulses, and hush her troubled spirit to repose.

When she had left her grandfather's room, she thought sleep was too effectually frightened away by the terrors of the past night; but the strength and vigor of youth cannot be so soon unstrung, rest is too natural to that age; and, though it was disturbed, slumber stole over her unconsciously, and day had dawned fully, when, waking with a start, and feeling as though her short absence from him was a neglect of a sacred duty, she stole softly and quickly to his room.

He had but just awoke, Mrs. O'Toole said; and now lay gazing with a troubled expression in his eyes, towards the door. He smiled when he saw Kate, and his lips moved; she stooped to hear, and he whispered, faintly but earnestly – "Write – Georgina," with a pause between each word.

"I understand, dearest grandpapa," said Kate, quickly, to relieve his evident anxiety. "I will write to Georgina Desmond by this day's post."

And a look of greater contentment gradually composed the invalid's countenance, which appeared so worn and haggard, that Kate's eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him.

The doctor called early, and expressed himself quite satisfied with Kate's account of the patient's past night; his pulse, too, was a little stronger.

"Endeavour to keep him quiet, and free from anxiety; he is at present free from fever, and I should find some difficulty had we both fever and weakness to contend with; do not let him talk much."

The day wore slowly over, like the night, diversified only by the writing of the promised letter to Lady Desmond; and the Colonel seemed much easier when he was told it had been despatched.

Soon the cares and duties of the sick-room became matters of course; the Colonel decidedly gathered strength. He was able to converse a little with his grandchild without much exhaustion; and frequently made her read aloud to him. He never wearied of the Gospel of St. John, of the Psalms, and the seventh and concluding chapters of Revelation.