A REPENTANT REBEL
"AUNTY," said Kathleen, after luncheon was over, "I want you to read
a letter which I received this morning; not by post, or I should have
told you about it at breakfast. It was given to me on the road by a
messenger who would have brought it here, only he met me, and asked
if he were to come on to the house, or if I would take it then. As it
needed no answer, it was as well to spare the man a longer walk, was it
not?"
"Certainly, dear. Somebody wanting you to patronize those village
concerts that are being got up, I suppose. I had a note about them this
morning, and so had Geraldine."
"The letter was not about the concerts, aunty. I promised to patronize
them more than a week ago, and before the formal appeal was sent out.
My letter was from Captain Torrance. Read it, please, or Geraldine can
read it to you, if you like, and then tell me what you think of it."
Kathleen put the letter into Miss Ellicott's hand, and then went
to the window, where she stood during its perusal She had resolved
not to notice the dismay with which her aunt heard of this further
communication from the captain, and trusted to the letter itself to
produce a favourable impression. She waited some little time, standing
at the window with her back to the room and its occupants, but as
neither spoke she walked to the fireside, and asked—"What do you think
of the letter, aunty?"
"My dear, I cannot find fault with it."
"I should think not indeed," replied the girl, drawing herself up in
the stately way she put on at times.
"And yet, Kitty dear, I cannot help wishing that the writer had been
content to leave the matter as it was."
"With his feelings he could hardly do that. You see, he thought he had
pained me, and wished me to know that he never meant to do so."
"He might have imagined that the wound, if any, would be healed, so far
as he was concerned, before this time, my dear."
"But you see what he says. He simply could not summon courage to write.
Only, as he was back at Monk's How, he had a dread of meeting me with
his fault unacknowledged—I mean apologized for."
"Happily, Captain Torrance is not often seen in our little circle
of friends, Kitty, so there was not much fear of his being quite
overwhelmed by your displeasure. As I have said, the letter is not to
be found fault with, and as it requires no answer, were I you, I would
put it into the fire, and forget both it and the writer as far as
possible."
"Thank you, aunty," said Kathleen, taking the letter, but with no
intention of following Mrs. Ellicott's advice in the disposal of it; "I
have answered it."
"What! you have already written to Captain Torrance? I wish you had not
done that without naming the matter to me or Aylmer."
"I have not written; but if I had, surely I do not require the consent
of my guardians, before I can reply to a simple note of apology."
The girl's hasty temper was roused in an instant, and she went on
defiantly—
"I gave my answer to Captain Torrance himself. I met him at Crosspaths
Corner, when I was turning homeward. He was kind enough to walk with me
to the gates. Had I felt as if I dared to take such a liberty in my own
house, I should have asked him to luncheon."
"My dear child, my dear Kathleen, how you misunderstand me!" said
Mrs. Ellicott, in great distress. "Never during my guardianship have
I interfered with your correspondence. Never has a guest been invited
by you who could afterwards complain of a scanty welcome from me. I
have never for an instant forgotten that I am only the temporary head
of this household, and that in a little more than a year you will be
its absolute mistress. But in the meanwhile I am here by your father's
dying wish, and I can only lay down my post and its responsibilities at
the time appointed by him."
"You well know, Kathleen, that only Captain Torrance's character has
stood in the way of his being welcomed in this house and other homes in
the neighbourhood."
"I know that if either man or woman has done anything wrong once, the
people who think themselves good never forgive, even though they have
not suffered by the wrong-doing. It seems to me there is a horrid lot
of hypocrisy in the world—the good people's world, I mean, or else
instead of turning their backs on those who had committed a fault,
and were sorry for it, they would encourage them to do better for the
time to come. As to Captain Torrance, he is very much to be pitied.
He may have done wrong, though I cannot tell in what way, for people
just shrug their shoulders, and appear to know a great deal about him,
which I feel certain they would not tell to his face, the cowards!
I believe," continued Kathleen, vehemently, "that he just longs to
lead a good life, and to set his boy the best of examples, but he has
nobody to help him—nobody. I did think you, who are so kind to most
people, aunty, would have felt sorry for him, as I did, when I read
that letter. But you are just as cold as all the rest, and as hard when
Captain Torrance's name is mentioned. Yet you say nothing. Tell me, if
you know, what he has really done to make people scorn him and speak
ill of him behind his back."
Mrs. Ellicott was shocked at this manifest reaction in favour of
Captain Torrance on Kathleen's part. Never before had she posed as his
champion, or shown such temper in his defence. So, in spite of the
girl's defiant manner, she strove by her very gentleness to disarm her
niece, and quietly answered—
"My dear Kitty, it is not for me to tell the whole story of Captain
Torrance's past life, and I could not if I would. Much of it is common
property, and what is known is surely enough to prevent a pure-minded,
innocent girl from desiring his society, or posing as his defender.
I can only repeat that your other guardian and I desire nothing but
your happiness, and if out of all our neighbours we say, 'There is one
whose companionship can be only hurtful to you,' dear Kitty, can you
not trust us to judge and decide for you in a matter where a girl's
very kindness of heart warps her own judgment? Ah, my darling! It is
one of the trials of age, that experience has taught it so many lessons
of which, happily, the young are ignorant. We old folk have perforce
to avail ourselves of that experience on behalf of the young whom we
love, and whom it is our privilege and duty to guard. They often rebel
against our decisions, but later in life they learn the same lessons
as time and observation have taught us, and can then thank God that in
their young days they were not left to themselves."
Kathleen made no reply to her aunt's kindly words. She stood leaning
against the chimney-piece, and tapping the floor with her foot in a
restless fashion. There was the old wilful look on her face, and the
very pose of her head told that she was resolved not to yield a hair's
breadth. Not that she was altogether unmoved by Mrs. Ellicott's words.
She could never doubt either her aunt's kindness or the judiciousness
of her decisions. But her feelings had been worked upon by Captain
Torrance's letter and words, and then the old spirit of rebellion
had revived, and she was in a state of towering indignation at being
treated like a child.
After a somewhat prolonged pause Kathleen spoke.
"I can see that it is useless for me to venture on thinking for myself
on any subject. I must reconcile myself to remain in leading-strings
for another year, or rather more. No fear of my forgetting the day that
sets me free, and then—"
The girl's eyes fairly flashed with triumph as she spoke, but she did
not finish the sentence. She left the rest to the imagination of her
listeners.
Geraldine had said nothing hitherto, but she was grieved on her
mother's account, on Aylmer's, and on Kathleen's most of all. She was
far from well herself, and this miser able scene was not likely to
make her feel better. It was in a tremulous voice that she said, when
Kathleen paused—
"Spare my dear mother, Kitty."
"Why do you speak in that way, Ger? What have I done to pain my
aunt? I came to her as I would have gone to my father, had he been
living. I showed her that letter, I looked for her sympathy for the
writer. I have been frank and straightforward in everything, and I am
disappointed—bitterly disappointed. As usual, I have had a lecture
on the wickedness of presuming to think for myself, or even to feel
towards any human being otherwise than my lawful guardians do. Their
opinions seem to be based on the judgment of the little world of
gossips, who are full of malice and all uncharitableness. Happily,
thought is free, and for the future, instead of opening my mind, I
will think for myself, and bide my time of emancipation as patiently
as I can. It goes without saying, that I shall beat against the bars
sometimes."
"How you grieve me, Kathleen! You know that I have always been so
glad of, and thankful for, the perfect confidence which has subsisted
between us. It is not in your nature to be otherwise than frank; Aylmer
says the same. Perhaps, if anything, we are over-anxious, but I know he
will feel with me about Captain Torrance. If he had seen him walking
with you—"
"He did see us. We met him on the road," replied Kathleen, with a
triumphant look. "To do Aylmer justice, he showed no inclination to
seize and carry me away from such bad companionship by main force. He
was grave, as 'tis his nature to be, but he passed us with the usual
courtesies, and went on his way. To do Captain Torrance justice, he
proposed handing me over then and there to the custody of my lawful
guardian, though Aylmer was going in the opposite direction to
ourselves. I, however, insisted on his escorting me to the gates of my
own domain, and I told him that Mr. Matheson was my good, true friend
and guardian, but not my jailer. Now, aunty, I shall go to my own room.
I have made a full confession of my doings when I was out of your sight
this morning, and I have a clear conscience on the score of any evil
intentions when I went for a solitary walk, because I had no one to go
with me. That it turned out other than solitary was not my fault, or,"
she added, "my misfortune. It was very pleasant, and I am not going to
say that I am sorry I saw Captain Torrance and had a talk with him,
which I am not likely to forget."
"Kitty, do not go away, I beg of you. You cannot have understood me.
Aylmer will be here for an hour this evening, and then—"
"I shall have a second lecture, I suppose. Thank you, aunty. I mean
to try and have a little peace in my own room. I will leave this with
you;" and the girl threw Captain Torrance's letter lightly on to the
table. "Let Aylmer see it, please, and tell him all I have told you. I
am tired—tired of everything!" she cried; and, quitting the room, she
ran to her room, locked herself in, and throwing herself on a couch,
burst into a passion of tears.
"I am always wrong," she exclaimed, "no matter how much I try to do
right! I thought aunty would be pleased at my showing her the letter,
and telling her everything. I might as well be deceitful, for any good
my frankness does me. There was not one word said this morning that all
the world might not have heard, except that poor Captain Jack would not
have opened his heart to every one as he did to me. And I don't care
what anybody says. If I can be a friend to him in his loneliness, and
help him to be better and happier, I will. It must be right to do that."
Arrived at this conclusion, Kathleen dried her eyes, and began to dream
of bright possibilities once more. She could do a great deal of harm,
and cause a vast amount of pain to others in a very short time when she
gave way to temper; but the fit passed away much sooner than did the
effects of it.
Kathleen was tired. The large fire burned brightly, and the couch in
her room looked most inviting. A large fur-lined wrap was lying across
the end of it. A few minutes later Kathleen was sleeping like a child,
snugly ensconced beneath the fur, and with the firelight dancing across
her face and making the lingering moisture on her dark eyelashes
sparkle like diamonds, which, however, quickly disappeared, together
with every trace of the tumult through which she had lately passed.
The fire had burned low, the early wintry twilight had followed
daylight, when Kathleen awoke. At first she hardly understood where she
was, but soon she roused herself, and called to mind how she had left
her aunt and cousin.
Sleep had effected a wondrous change in her feelings, and instead of
being angry at Mrs. Ellicott, she began to reproach herself for her
hastiness and hard words.
"If I could but learn to be patient; but after a month of delightful
peace and comfort, I have made aunty miserable, and Ger, poor Ger,
is, I dare say, ever so much worse through my conduct. She was wan
and white when she came down; not really fit to be out of bed, but
always thinking about other people. I don't think I was a bit wrong in
standing up for Captain Torrance, but I get angry so soon, and I ought
to think of aunty's goodness and how she must feel. I often forget the
things I have said when my temper is over; but she cannot, and it is
not likely. I said I would not go down to dinner, but I think I will.
It is of no use to put off. I shall have to go. Tea will be over. I
wonder Cameron never came to see if I wished for a cup."
At this moment a light tap came at the door, and Kathleen called, "Come
in," forgetting that she had locked it, and the one leading to her
dressing-room also. She had to unlock it and welcome Cameron and the
tea she brought.
"I have been in a sound sleep, Cameron," she said.
"You would be tired with your walk in the frosty air, miss," said the
maid. "After the cold, a warm room always makes one sleepy."
Cameron lighted the gas, drew the curtains, replenished the fire, and
restored the look of brightness to the room.
"Has any one called this afternoon?" asked Kathleen. "Yes, miss. Mr.
Matheson first, then Miss Stapleton. She left a message for you. She
was very sorry not to see you, and hoped you would soon go to her
brother's, where she is staying for some time. Mr. Matheson went out
with Miss Stapleton. I think he was going to walk to Oakwood with her,
as it was getting dusk."
"Indeed! I am sorry I missed Miss Stapleton. I shall not dress yet,
Cameron. There is plenty of time. I did tell my aunt that I should not
go down to dinner, but I am so thoroughly rested I have changed my
mind. I will ring when I want you."
Cameron retreated, and, with the inconsistency not quite uncommon
amongst girls, her young mistress gave way to just a shade of
annoyance, because Aylmer had walked home with her friend Hetty.
"Not that I care a straw about Aylmer in that way," she decided, "but
I should not like him to take a special liking to Hetty. She is a good
girl—twenty times better than I am, but when I am of age, and have
perhaps chosen for myself, I should be glad for Aylmer to marry Ger."
Kathleen felt quite generous in deciding the fates of her cousin and
Mr. Matheson; but had any one else read her thoughts, it would have
appeared a little selfish on her part to consent to such a match, only
when she had made a choice on her own account.
Before Cameron received her summons Kathleen went to Mrs. Ellicott's
room, feeling sure of finding her there and alone. Her question, "May I
come in, aunty?" was answered in the affirmative.
"I have come with the same old story," said Kathleen. "I know I do not
deserve that you should speak to me, but I never meant to get angry
to-day. You know, too, how I have fought and struggled, but it all
seems useless. What shall I do?"
"Begin again, my dear child. The battle against temptation is a
life-long contest, but we need not fight alone or unarmed."
"I know you will help me, aunty. I wonder you can bear to look at me,
and yet your very face beams forgiveness before I have asked it."
"My darling, I want you to feel that a stronger than I is ready to
help and make you strong. But, Kitty, have you thought that He knows
all your inward struggles, your longings to conquer what you feel
to be your besetting sin, your sorrow when, in place of coming off
victorious, the old failing overcomes you and your good resolutions?
You come to me penitent and grieved at having grieved me. Have you been
to Him to seek His forgiveness, or shall you be contented with mine?"
"I am afraid I have thought only of having troubled you, and made poor
Ger ill by my temper. I wish I could feel the peace and comfort that
you get by going to God with everything."
"Take the one thing that presses upon you most heavily. Remember that
whilst we are encouraged to go with everything, we cannot tell the
story of all our needs at once. We have to leave so many to His love
and providential care, just as little children lay down their heads at
night, and sleep without a care as to how the wants of the morrow are
to be met. 'That is father and mother's business,' they say, if they
think at all. So we, Kathleen, have to leave so much to our Heavenly
Father's foreseeing love, and the many every-day wants of His children
are mercifully and lovingly supplied. But our spiritual needs must be
taken to God and by ourselves. I can plead for you, Kitty, aye and
with you, but unless you acknowledge your fault and ask forgiveness,
your weakness and ask for strength, your ignorance and long for
guidance, your helplessness and pray that God will enable you to take
the armour of His providing, you must be beaten in the fight. Don't
get disheartened, dear. All you need is to be had for the asking, and
the great army of Christ's soldiers and servants, fighting against
temptation and sin, for their own souls and the souls of others, is
made up of all ranks and all ages. The hoary head fights, it may be,
beside the stripling, the mere child beside the parent. Young men
and maidens, old men and children, look alike to Jesus, the Captain
of their salvation, the only Conqueror who never knew what it was to
yield when the tempter strove to vanquish Him. He will lead you on that
path which He trod when in the flesh. Seek Him. Trust Him; make a new
beginning in His strength."
"I will try," whispered Kathleen; and before Cameron received her
summons, the girl knelt to ask the help of which she felt her need to
be so pressing and so constant.