Kate Vernon, Vol. 2 (of 3)

As Kate sat leaning her head against the window frame, her book hanging negligently from her hand, thinking of the rich autumn scene this view had presented, when Fred Egerton sketched it for her, some little bustle outside the drawing-room door attracted her attention, it was opened, and nurse announced,

"Misther and Missis Winther, Miss Kate."

Seldom had visitors been more heartily welcome, their coming was an inexpressible relief to Kate, and helped her well over the evening she had almost dreaded.

Few in this trying world of ours, do not know that there are times when a tête-à-tête with the person we love most on earth is an ordeal we would fain escape; when we shun the slightest expression of tenderness, lest it should betray the deep and yearning affection which swells the heart with sadness, not for ourselves, but for those for whom no sacrifice would seem painful, could we but save them them from suffering.

"Shall I brush yer hair asthore?" said Mrs. O'Toole, as she followed Kate into her room.

"No, dear nurse, only I want a little rest."

"There's a shadow on yer face, darlint, an wont ye spake it out to yer own ould nurse, that held ye in her arms an ye a dawshy little craythure, widout a mother. May be, it's bad news of the Captin?"

"Of the Captain! No, we have heard nothing of him; but, good night, I will tell you all to-morrow, dear nurse – I am weary now."

Kate might have spared herself the anxious thoughts that kept her waking, as to how she should approach the painful subject of their difficulties with her grandfather. It was done for her rudely enough, by a letter from Mr. Moore, announcing in legal terms, the appointment of a receiver over their remaining property.

She knew by the rigidity with which the Colonel's left hand grasped the arm of his chair as he read; that some more than usual bad news was contained in the letter.

"I must see Winter," said he, after a short pause, "I must see him immediately," he repeated, rising.

"If there is bad news, had you not better tell me first, dear grandpapa," said Kate, boldly and calmly.

"My dear child, you are unfit for such discussions, they would only fret you."

"Grandpapa, I am surely old enough to be your confidante, if not wise enough to be your counsellor; if we are to meet with reverses, it is only in union we can find strength to bear them. Oh, dear grandpapa, come what may, let us avoid the pangs of concealment; let me read that letter."

With a mute expression of surprise, at the tone she had assumed, he handed her the letter, which but for Winter's communications the day before, would have enlightened her but little; as it was, she felt a curious sensation of relief, that the dreaded moment was no longer to be anticipated, and that from the present hour a mutual confidence would be established between her and her grandfather.

"We must leave this house of course," she said, musingly, as she returned the letter. "Shall we receive any more money from Ireland?"

"Not a shilling! Resistance is, I fear, useless, except for my character's sake; my child, my bright Kate, what will become of you? I can do nothing."

Never before had she seen the old man's firmness shaken. The low moan, with which he turned away, covering his face with both his hands, as if oppressed with the sense of his own helplessness, struck terror into her heart, while it seemed to arm her with indomitable resolution to uphold and cherish her beloved parent, round whose declining years such heavy shadows were gathering. Steadying her voice by an immense effort, and striving to still the throbbing pulses that shook her frame, she raised and tenderly kissed the hand that hung, in nerveless despondency, over the back of a chair near which the Colonel stood.

"My own dear grandpapa, I know how sad all this is, but for my sake do not be so cast down, do not give way to despair. You have been my guide, my model all my life! show me how to bear misfortune now!"

She paused to regain command over her traitor voice, that would tremble.

"But, Kate, we are beggars; in another month I shall not know where to find the price of our daily food; and though Georgina Desmond is wealthy and generous, dependency is wretchedness."

"Right, dear grandpapa," she replied, almost gladly, at this opening to the proposition she feared to make, "and we will scorn it. See, I can play well, and I love to teach, oh, very much; you will let me try and be so happy as to earn a little for you – I should be so proud! Not here, but in London, and then we shall be always together, and so happy! and independent, and – "

"You teach! never," cried the old man, turning from her, excitedly. "You were born for a different fate. Would to God you had married that wealthy Englishman, as Georgy wished, but – "

"No, no," interrupted Kate, "is poverty, is earning one's own bread so miserable a lot, that one should prefer the unutterable wretchedness of a marriage without affection? But why, dearest and best, am I not to teach? how many, born to as good a position as mine, have done so, and, if I do not, what is to become of us?"

"What indeed!" groaned Vernon.

There was a mournful pause. Kate, not daring to break the thread of her grandfather's thoughts, and silently pressing her smooth, soft cheek against his wrinkled hand.

"My own consoling angel!" said he at last. "It is a sad lot for you, at your age, to sink at once into oblivion, and – "

"How do you know that I am to sink into oblivion? how can you tell to what brilliant destiny this dark passage may be but an entrance? Dear grandpapa, 'Time and the hours run through the darkest day,' let us bear the present expecting a brighter future, and now, shall I send for Mr. Winter?"

"Yes," with a deep sigh, "we cannot act too quickly."

Trembling in every nerve, yet not without a feeling of relief, that the dreaded explanation was over. Kate penned a hasty note to Mr. Winter, which he quickly responded to in person.

The long conference that followed placed Winter, 'au fond,' of the position of his friend.

The farms of Knockdrum, worth little over two hundred pounds per annum, were all that was left to the Colonel, of the wreck of his property, and this poor remainder was barely sufficient to meet the claim of Mr. Taaffe.

We will not follow the long, desultory conversation that ensued; nor record the energy with which Winter poured forth proverbs, Spanish, French, and Italian, to prove the Satanic origin of law; nor the sweet endurance with which Kate endeavoured to accustom her grandfather's mind to her project of her teaching.

It was decided that the Priory house and its furniture should be disposed of at once, and that the Colonel and Kate should take up their abode at Winter's, till matters could be a little more arranged, and an answer received from Lady Desmond to Kate's last letter, which informed her of the delay occasioned by Taaffe's proceedings.

"Remember, Colonel, though I think it too soon to consider Miss Vernon's proposition, when the time comes I shall be on her side. Kate, we must have a talk about it – and pray dine with us; when thinking is of no use it is better to have a rubber; do not be too much cast down; this 'diluvio' has shown you the crown jewel you have still left; it is only the diamond that sparkles in the dark. And now, come and see poor Gilpin with me. You may as well, when you have answered that confounded letter. Here's your desk." Aside to Kate, as the old man settled himself to write. "We must not leave him too much by himself."

Light and pleasant is the task to paint the the various phases of joy, for whatever light touches it beautifies; but rare is the skill that can truly depict the gloom of sorrow, and fascinate the eye, by a depth of shadow that admits of little variation! For those who are gliding along on the smooth waters of prosperity, turn from a picture with which they cannot sympathise, and whose most exquisite touches, uninstructed by care or adversity, they pronounce overdrawn; and even the treaders of rough paths, wearied with 'the burden and heat of the day,' give but a reluctant glance, at what only reminds them of their own griefs, and exclaim; "this we know, this we have felt, tell us of joy, of hope, of true friends, and tender hearts; cheat us into a happy dream, even though it lull us but for a moment, even though the waking be bitter, and our souls will bless you."

CHAPTER III.

PREPARATIONS

The day but one after the above conversation, another summons brought Winter to the little dining-room of the Priory, the scene of so many consultations.

The Colonel welcomed him with his usual empressement, but a tremour of the hands, as he waved towards a seat, with an old-fashioned and urbane grace, which scarcely the shock of an earthquake could have made him forget, indicated some excitement; Kate's color too was heightened, and her eyes, though bright, had an anxious expression.

"You see we cannot get on without you, my dear sir," began the Colonel, "your prompt compliance with my request for an interview, is most gratifying – ah! The subject I wish to speak to you on is far from unpleasant, I want your opinion on a rather momentous question. In short, show Mr. Winter that letter, Kate."

"Ha, hum! Lady Desmond, I see. What a firm hand the woman writes."

It was hurriedly written, and short; after a few desultory remarks, apparently in reply to Kate's last letter, it concluded thus, "Of law and its probable delays, I can form no judgment, but why they should prevent your visit to me I cannot and will not understand; they are additional reasons, I think, why you should at once take up your abode with me, at least until affairs are arranged, and that low-bred knave's vile scheme is defeated; I know not, dearest Kate, how far these proceedings may affect the great tidal wave, which ebbs and flows in men's pockets. Therefore, whatever you may decide upon, and whenever you require it, I trust your dear grandfather will not refuse, to fill up the enclosed check on my banker for whatever sum he may want; it will be a gratification to his old protégée to think she can be of use to him, and if you will use it to facilitate your journey here, you will leave scarce a wish unfulfilled to yours, as ever. – G. D."

"Ha! done like a princess! a generous, headstrong woman, I'll lay my life; and now a journey or not a journey, that's the question; let me hear your opinion, Kate?"

"Oh! Mr. Winter, I have none; my only clear idea is, that this world is not such a bad, unhappy world, where we have a Lady Desmond and a Mr. Winter to leaven the whole lump. It is a most tempting offer; but you will call me perverse; I do not feel half so inclined to accept it as when – as when we were more independent of it."

"And you, Colonel Vernon?"

"I am very anxious," said the Colonel, in a hesitating manner, not usual with him, "at all events, that Kate should avail herself of such an invitation. Nurse might travel with her, I shall probably visit Dublin, look in upon you, and – "

"Pray where is the money to come from to do all this?" said Winter, bluntly.

"My dear sir, you forget we shall sell our furniture, and let this house."

"And when that is all gone you will be just where you were, except that your chief comforter will be many a league away, and Lady Desmond's gratitude immersed in that lethe in which impulsive people's noblest sentiments most frequently lose themselves."

"You wrong my cousin," cried Miss Vernon.

"In truth I feel incapable of deciding," said the Colonel. "I do not like the idea of throwing ourselves on Lady Desmond; but, Winter, you cannot comprehend the horror with which I contemplate my Kate's teaching – walking out alone, meeting insolence – Great God!"

He covered his face with his hands, and Kate, half appalled by the dismal picture he had drawn, clasped hers together with an appealing look to Winter, who said, huskily and oracularly,

"Hear me, Colonel. I can easily comprehend your feelings, though I am a plebeian; but I tell you there is another side of the picture. At present you are in perfect sympathy with your cousin, and the electricity of mutual obligation and kindness runs freely back and forward between you; but when you have been for six months her inmate, feeling yourself dependent on her bounty for the bread you eat; when a wish for variety may tempt her to covet the rooms you occupy for some more amusing guest, less weighed down by care; and when the freshness and excitement of a generous act, shall have ceased to interest; a thousand mortifying slights, a thousand unimportant trifles, will make your life wretched, and wear away the links that now seem to bind you so close together."

"Oh, no, no, Georgy could never act unkindly," cried Kate.

"My dear young lady," resumed Winter, "there are few in this curious world of ours that cannot, once or twice in their lives, do a kind and a generous action; but there is not one in a thousand, or a hundred thousand, that can act with uniform kindness, courtesy and justice to a dependent, a creature in their power – power! it is the forcing house of evil! The woman who could quarrel with you because you would not be happy her way, is not one of these exceptions; she would wound you one day, and beg your forgiveness, in abject terms, the next; and you, doubly sensitive from feeling the impossibility of freedom, would live in a state of slavery! Pah! never shut yourselves out from the chance of earning independence here, for such a prospect, however riant, the aspect at present."

"Ha!" said Colonel Vernon, walking up and down. "There is a great deal of truth in what you say, but Lady Desmond is a woman of warm and generous feeling, and Kate, at least, would be safe with her, so – "

"You know, grandpapa, I will never leave you – it is useless and cruel to talk about it!"

"It is both, my dear Colonel," urged Winter, "Kate would be wretched without you; nor do I think this a fitting time for you to separate; and, be warned by me, live on a crust and cold water, if you can earn no more, rather than doom yourselves to a life of dependence."

"Dear Mr. Winter, you are right," said Kate, earnestly, "my own grandpapa, let us make up our minds, to bear all hardships, provided we are together. If I must teach, do not make my path more difficult by taking it so much to heart. We have long lived independent of any pleasures but those of our home; these we can still have; the worst pang will be to bid this kind friend farewell; but he will come and see us sometimes. And after all we may win the lawsuit and enjoy our little fortune doubly. I will write to dear Georgy, and affectionately decline her kind offer; and then let us set to work at once about what must be done – shall we, dearest and best?" kissing his hand.

"It must be so," said the Colonel, after a pause. "It must be so, and I will never fret you more, my love, by opposition to your wishes; I thought it right, at all events, to consider the advantages Lady Desmond's invitation might offer for you, though I shrink from the idea of living on any one – and to think of parting with you! ah!"

"Now you talk like a man of sense," said Winter. "I will tell you, what I think you ought to write; I think Lady Desmond will be affronted if you reject all her offers, and justly; so split the difference, keep that blank check, (she has sent it unconditionally) against a rainy day; tell her, though you have no want of it, at present, you may, and do not mention your intention of teaching; she would be hurt at your preferring such an alternative to residing with her; next year she may return, and find you happy, comfortable and independent; I trust things will wear a very different aspect from that presented by the bare announcement, 'I am going to teach.' Hum," he added, musingly. "Langley used to keep up a good connection in the musical world, and Herman, he bears an excellent character, and holds a good place; you must look up your old music-master, my dear. Then, Colonel, I have known so many people ruined before they could make the necessary changes; they get into a procrastinating habit, waiting for this to be sold, and that to be paid, before the totally new system of life can be commenced, which is so essential. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Leave the Priory and its furniture in my hands; I'll get a tenant for it, or make the fat Rector take it off your hands. The furniture shall be disposed of by auction, and I'll advance you a hundred pounds upon it; if it sells for more, I'll remit you the difference, if for less, you can pay me when you have pitched Taaffe to the 'Inferno;' but I am quite certain it will bring more. Then you can start when you please, quietly; and when you begin to like London, direct me to sell your belongings. Hey! anything to stop the infernal chatter of Miss Araminta Cox – the Mrs. Grundy of A – . What say you, Colonel?"

"That you are a friend indeed! I will be entirely guided by your counsels; but remember, you must not wrong yourself. I must have all the auctioneer's accounts forwarded to me. I can hardly describe to you the relief your thus smoothing matters affords me."

"You give me strength and courage," said Kate.

"Hum," resumed Winter. "Langley – yes, he can engage lodgings for you where you are going. When do you think you can start?"

"Oh!" said Kate, shrinkingly, "not sooner than a fortnight or three weeks."

"A fortnight or three weeks," cried the Colonel, "impossible!"

"You are a real, earnest worker, Miss Vernon," interposed Winter. "I expected a much longer date; what will become of me when you are gone? and gone on such an errand. 'Dio buono! le sciagure e le allegrezza non vengono mai sole;' but what do you think of doing with Mrs. O'Toole?"

"Oh, she goes with us, of course," replied Kate.

"Well, you know best how much you pay her, and whether you can afford it?" returned Winter.

"But nurse is not like a servant, she is a friend, she could never live with any people but us? Oh, do not tell me, we must leave nurse!" said Miss Vernon.

"We cannot accept her services for nothing," observed the Colonel.

"I will gladly engage her as cook and house-keeper, at whatever wages you give her."

"Her wages are small," said Kate, "she would not accept higher, since we left Dungar!"

"Well, you must settle all that with her," returned Winter. "I am ready to ratify any arrangement you may make; and now write to Lady Desmond, as I suggested, Kate; ma belle et bonne enfant, you are wearied by this long, gloomy talk, and I am an old bear. I know it, Colonel; but my heart is like the coat of my prototype, rough and warm."

After some more general conversation, they separated, Winter and the Colonel, to visit some land the former wished to purchase, and about which he affected great anxiety to have the Colonel's opinion. Kate to walk in solitary meditation by the river, to try and collect her thoughts, before the dreaded explanation with nurse. Mournfully she gazed at all the well-known objects she had learned to love, in her tranquil, happy retirement; and her bright, quick, fancy painted in strong contrast the life she was henceforth to lead.

"Even if I am successful, grandpapa will be so much alone," she thought; "and what a crowded, busy, terrifying place London is! I am glad Fred Egerton is in India, I could not bear that he should meet me, perhaps, walking alone in London."

And the large tears stole down her cheeks, at the mixture of feelings this vision aroused. Turning slowly round, she approached the little landing place, intending to speak a few words to Elijah Bush; a little, rosy, curly-headed boy, was seated in the boat instead of its shaggy owner; he rose, as Kate stopped at the end of the landing.

"Where is Elijah?" she enquired.

"Please, ma'am, he's been sick these three days back."

"I am sorry to hear it; what is the matter with him?"

"Oh, ma'am, he's got the rheumatics drefful bad."

"And is there no one to mind the boat but you, my little man?"

"No, ma'am."

"You cannot row it?"

"No, ma'am; but whiles the men rows the'selves, and gives me the money."

"And have you had many passengers?"

"One yesterday, ma'am; and none at all the day."

"Then poor Elijah must be but badly off; has he any money?"

"Oh dear no, ma'am."

"Where does he live?"

"In the Piper's lane, nigh St. Winefred's Tower, ma'am."

"Will you show me the way to him?"

"Oh yes, ma'am; I often hear him speak of ye, ma'am; he'll be main glad to see ye, ma'am."

"What is your name, my little man?"

"Willy Bush, ma'am."

"Are you Elijah's grandson?"

"No, ma'am, he's my gran-uncle."

"Well, I will just go up to the Priory, and return to you immediately; and then you shall show me the way to him."

Called away from the contemplation of her own trials, Kate, feeling her usual elasticity return, ran lightly up the steep path, and called nurse, to arm herself with broth and flannel for the invalid.

"Is it Piper's lane? Now, Miss Kate, I cannot let you go to sich a place. Set up the old Methody, to have Miss Vernon nurse and tending iv him – I can take the tay and the broth, and them flannels just as well."

"But, nurse, he would like to see me."

"I'll go bail he would."

"And I would like to see him; besides, I want to talk to you, dear nurse."

"Faix, it's a wax modial I am in yer hands, ye turn an' twist me what way ye will; but to think iv yer takin' the illigant mutton broth I was cooking for the masther's own self, bangs Banaher."

"There will be quite enough left for us," laughed Kate; "and I am afraid the poor man wants it much more than we do."

"It's not the likes iv me 'ud begrudge him a taste iv broth," said nurse, tying a capacious tin-can up very carefully. "Now are yes ready, avourneen. It's yerself has the heart for the poor! an' the Lord 'ill remimber it to you in the hour of need, amin."

The little boy guided them through many narrow, winding ways, to a wretched habitation outside the walls, and almost under the half-ruined tower of St. Winefred. It was a miraculous place, for although all the pools seemed to be, at least partly, composed of soap suds, nothing looked as if it had ever been washed.

Here, in a tolerably clean room, at least by comparison, they found Elijah, looking more shaggy than ever, stretched on some straw, and covered with a tattered pea-jacket. After a little kindly talk and friendly enquiries as to the old man's resources, which proved to be indeed scanty, Kate left him, telling the small boy to call at the Priory, in half an hour, when she said she would give him a note to the doctor.

"So good bye, Elijah, I hope you will be better to-morrow; in the mean time take this, till you are able to earn some more yourself."

"I'm a poor hand at returning thanks, Miss Vernon," said Elijah, with evident feeling, "but," he added, solemnly, "The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, the name of the God of Jacob defend thee!"

"Amen," said Kate, fervently, bending her head to the benediction.

Mrs. O'Toole, pausing in her occupation of transferring the broth to an earthen vessel, crossed herself, and the next moment they left the place silently.

"He's a mighty quare man," said Mrs. O'Toole, meditatively, after they had almost reached the river side, without breaking a pause of unusual duration. "Faith, he blessed ye like a clargy."

"And well he might, he little knows how soon his kindly wishes may be required."

"Why, avourneen?"

"Nurse," said Kate, after a minute of troubled thought, "we must leave this place."

"Is it to go sthreelin' over thim furrin' parts, among dirt and flays, an' the Lord knows what?"

"No, nurse, nothing half so agreeable."

"Ah! thin, what is it, agrah? spake out to your poor ould nurse."

"Ah, dear nurse, there are sad times coming; poor, dear grandpapa, through some terrible law business, has no money left, none at all!"

"Miss Kate, is it the truth yer afther tellin' me?"

"Too, too true! I cannot explain, indeed I cannot understand, but there is a Mr. Taaffe, who says grandpapa owes him a great deal of money, which was really paid long ago; but which, as we have lost some papers, we cannot prove, and he has got Knockdrum, and we – we have nothing!"