CHAPTER X._Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 1 (of 3)

ADIEU.

London at the close of November! Can the force of human imagination

conceive anything half so gloomy and dispiriting? And certainly the

dreary weeks I spent there at this period have ever ranked first in

my remembrance of wretchedness: the damp, drizzling, foggy condition

of animate and inanimate nature--the deserted streets haunted by long

strings of decrepid placard bearers whose rheumatic forms seemed

bowed under the huge capitals setting forth Mons. Jullien's concerts

_d'hiver_, &c. My days were pretty equally divided between my lawyer

and army agent, varied by a good deal of letter writing, and a solitary

dinner at the desolate Club. Towards the middle of this purgatorial

period, the regiment I was soon to call mine no more got the route for

Canterbury; and Burton, like a trump as he was, came up to town to

hear a fuller account of my troubles than a letter could give, and to

see the most he could of me before I started to the land of military

promise. He was a true-hearted fellow, and the sincere, unpretending

interest with which he entered into my plans--I will not say hopes,

for God knows I felt little then--did me more real good, and drew me

more out of myself than the most elaborate efforts at consolation could

have effected. Finally, when just about to leave me one night after a

long talk over my affairs, and half out of the room, he observed, "You

know, old fellow, I have always been prudent, and if a few hundred

pounds would be of any use to you, I would be glad of a little higher

interest--they only pay two and a half at present--and the whole thing

might lie over until you get some prize money in India, when I will be

down on you inexorably for the compound interest, principal, and all.

Now do not stir, I know my way down; we will talk it over to-morrow."

He was away before I could say a word.

"Come," thought I, as I turned to the fire, "it is worth while to bear

the crosses of this world of ours, when it contains even one such

fellow as that to leaven the whole lump."

Yet not even to Burton could I bear to talk of the bitter struggle

it cost me to part with Kate Vernon as little more than a common

acquaintance. It was weakness in me to think of it, and (I am glad I

can record so much good of myself) it was a source of sincere rejoicing

to me when I reflected that Miss Vernon, at all events, could not

suffer from the painful regret I felt gnawing my troubled spirit.

I wrote to Colonel Vernon from London, telling him shortly of

the reasons which rendered my exchange into a Regiment in India

indispensable, opening my mind to him as to a father, concluding by

begging him to let me spend my last few days in England under his roof,

as I wished to keep the visit to be a parting impression of home. To

Winter I also wrote, less fully, and lastly to Gilpin. This little

primitive group, scarce five months known to me, had wound itself into

my sympathies, and now, with the exception of Burton, from them alone,

of all the variety of my acquaintance, was it hard to part.

"I was beginning to feel puzzled at your long silence," wrote the

Colonel, in reply. "You have fully explained, and if the assurance of

an old soldier's perfect approbation has any value in your eyes, accept

mine; you will be truly welcome here whenever you can come; give us a

day's notice, and if you have no objection to a diminutive crib, and a

haunted chamber, Mrs. O'Toole says we can keep you altogether under

our roof. Kate desires her kind remembrances; she was delighted with

your letter, which I hope I was not indiscreet in letting her see, &c."

The kindly tone of this letter soothed me, and made me long to be once

more among the quiet circle with whom my previous life had so little

fitted me to sympathise; I hurried my preparations, and stirred up my

agent so effectually, that early in December the _Gazette_ announced

"Captain the Hon. Boscawen Egerton from the -- Light Dragoons, to be

Captain in the -- Lancers, _vice_ John Thomas Robinson Brown, who

exchanges."

The Regiment had not been long in India, and was stationed in the North

Western Provinces, where I could have the best chance of seeing a

little service.

A few final interviews with the military tailor; a parting visit to,

and dinner from my old corps, who really seemed sorry to lose me; my

heavy baggage dismissed to Southampton, to await the sailing of the

ship in which I was to go out, and I was free to give my last week in

England to A----, and its attractions.

I had reserved a curious old picture, the painter unknown, which

had been praised by judges; and a Louis Quatorze snuff-box with an

exquisite miniature of La Valliere in enamel, from the general disposal

of my miscellaneous effects; they were destined for Winter and the

Colonel. Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy," I thought would not be

unacceptable to Kate; together with all the prettiest new music I could

collect, and several oratorios in Moyen age binding, for Gilpin; and

Mrs. O'Toole! could she be forgotten? No! I ransacked Regent Street,

for the brightest of scarlet shawls; while mindful of the occupation I

had so often watched Mrs. Winter engaged in, Howel and James furnished

a handsome buhl knitting case, with a Turquoise button, for her

acceptance.

My preparations finished, though not without a certain aching of the

heart, I took my way for the last time, to the old city of A----; yet

pleasure predominated over pain, as I thought of a whole week with Kate

Vernon. I had despatched a line to say I would be with them to dinner

on the following day, and the speed of an express train did not suffice

for the impatience with which I longed to be once more surrounded with

the familiar faces now so endeared to me. I felt jealous of every

moment curtailed from the short space of happiness I had so looked

forward to; and I believe the driver of the cab that conveyed me from

the railway to the Priory thought me insane, so reiterated were my

injunctions to drive faster, faster! It was near six o'clock when I

drove up to the well-known arched gate; a sharp clear evening; the

breath of the panting horse showing like light smoke in the transparent

air; I sprang out, while the cabman was stamping his feet, after

ringing, and pushing the gate open with the familiarity of an old

friend, nearly rushed into the arms of Mrs. O'Toole, who was advancing

to open it.

I could see the Colonel's venerable figure in the hall, which was

lighted by a pretty antique lamp, and behind him the drawing-room

door stood open, showing the curtains snugly drawn, and a ruddy glow

pervading the atmosphere of the room, which bespoke a noble fire

somewhere.

"Musha, but ye'r welcome, Captin; an' are ye shut of the sickness

entirely? There's the Masther longing to spake to ye; never mind the

portmanty; give me a hoult of that carpet bag."

"Welcome, a thousand welcomes, my dear Egerton," cried Colonel Vernon,

"you are in excellent time, yet we were beginning to watch for you."

We shook hands with intense cordiality, and mine was scarcely released,

when something cold and damp was thrust into it; it was the fine old

hound seconding his master's greeting.

"From the moment I started to the present, I have ceaselessly abused

railways, stokers, engine-drivers, and all, for not going the pace

more rapidly. I really thought I should never be with you soon enough;

it seems such an age since we met, and I have done so much in the

interim," said I. As I followed him into the drawing-room, there stood

Kate in a distracting demi-toilette of white muslin, with some scarlet

ribbons admirably disposed, and lighted up by the blaze of a noble fire

that looked "Welcome," like every thing else.

"Ah! how glad I am to see you are come; I thought you would go away

without paying us your promised visit, it was so long delayed." And

once more I held her fair soft hand; once more I gazed into her clear

truthful eyes that looked up to mine with so much gladness through

their long sweeping lashes.

"Go, without paying my promised visit, Miss Vernon!" was my only reply,

but I suppose the tone in which it was spoken, expressed how impossible

such an omission was to me, for she said with a smile, as she drew away

her hand, "I suppose, then, you would not have liked to leave us, _sans

adieu_; but grandpapa, Captain Egerton has barely time to make his

toilet, it is just six o'clock."

The Colonel, with old fashioned _empressement_, lighted me to my

chamber, a little dark-panelled cell with some rude remnants of carving

here and there, and one small window sunk deep in the wall. A cheerful

fire blazed in what had once been a wide chimney, but which was now

walled up into reasonable dimensions.

"This is the oldest part of the house," said my host; "we used it as

a sort of lumber room till Kate and Nurse decided on trying to make

it habitable for you; we none of us liked the idea of despatching you

every night to an hotel, at this time of the year particularly; have

you every thing you want?"

I thought the Priory Cottage never looked so delightfully homelike

as in its winter aspect; and the pleasant candle-light dinner,

to the agreeability of which Mrs. O'Toole added largely, joining

in the conversation with greater ease than ever, pressing any

particularly well cooked dish, as earnestly on me as if I too had

been her nursling. Cormac sat gravely by Kate, accepting the bits she

occasionally offered him with dignified condescension.

"On Sundays and a few great occasions, such as the present," she said

with a smile, "Cormac was admitted to the dining room, but the drawing

room was forbidden ground to him, he knew it quite well."

We soon adjourned to the drawing room, and as I stood on the hearth rug

sipping my tea, and looking at Kate and her grandfather, sitting at

opposite sides of the table, both so distinguished in their looks and

manners, yet both so unlike the common herd of mere well bred people, I

kept down the bitter sighs that oppressed my heart as the thought, "You

must leave them and for ever," seemed to burn and fix itself indelibly

on my brain.

After some enquiries about the Winters and Gilpin, who, I was sorry to

hear, had not been so well, Miss Vernon observed I still looked pale

and thin.

"You certainly suffered for your generous effort to save our poor

friend," she added; "I can never forget your rushing back under the

tottering ruins, and that awful crash!" She shuddered.

"Yes, indeed, Egerton, you look a little haggard; don't you feel

strong?" enquired the Colonel.

"Why you see, Colonel, I have been a good deal cut up about all this

business, and to say the truth I do not like leaving England."

"That must be because you are still suffering from the debility of

indisposition," said Miss Vernon, "or such a lover of excitement as you

are would be enchanted at the idea of India, and its tiger hunts, and

cave temples, with a possibility of shooting or being shot."

"So I would four or five months ago; now I am paying dearly for

extravagance."

"Do not be so severe on yourself; few young men can quite resist

temptation," said the Colonel, kindly.

"I wonder what is the pleasure of betting; it seems very absurd," said

Miss Vernon.

"How could you know anything about it?" enquired her grandfather.

"Ah thin, it's the Divil's own divirsion," observed Mrs. O'Toole, who

was removing the tea things.

Our conversation on my affairs continued in the same friendly and

confidential tone for some time; then the Colonel dozed, and I,

approaching nearer to Kate's work table, described my evening at

Allerton with the deputation from the "Parent Society." She laughed a

good deal at my sketch of the Rev. Mr. Black, and said she thought she

remembered him at A----. Then she told me how Mr. Winter had painted

a _chef d'oeuvre_--"The Little Landing Place," with its trees,

Elijah Bush in his hairy cap, Cyclops and Cormac; and that Mrs. Winter

and Miss Araminta Cox had had a quarrel, but that she had happily

reconciled them; and lastly, with much earnestness in her manner, and

tenderness in her tones, she spoke of Gilpin's failing health and

loneliness.

"I cannot tell you, Captain Egerton, how very fond he appears to be

of you, more so, even, than gratitude can account for, as if you had

many sympathies in common; yet you are as unlike in character as in

appearance. I am glad he likes you," she concluded, simply.

All this gossip of her little world was told in a subdued tone, not

to disturb her grandfather, and so added to the sort of confidence

apparently existing between us.

What an extraordinary _mélange_ of feelings I experienced! I was

within sight of paradise, as it were--I could almost grasp it, but an

invisible though iron barrier held me back, so I talked on, quietly

wondering at my own self-command; and sometimes, when restoring the

scissors or a skein of worsted I had unconsciously abstracted from her

basket, my hand would touch hers; once, on one of these occasions, she

looked up and said--"How very cold you are, do stir the fire and warm

yourself." I do not know what I should have said or done, had not the

Colonel at that moment awoke up, shocked at his want of politeness.

Then Kate went to the piano and sang song after song in her rich,

soft, thrilling notes, and depth of expression, until I felt in a sort

of painful ecstasy, which must in some way have been traceable on

my countenance, for the Colonel suddenly stopped his granddaughter,

observing how fagged I looked:

"You must go to your bed, Egerton, and don't hurry in the morning."

"Yes," said Kate, looking at me kindly, as she rang for candles, "you

look quite knocked up, I'm afraid I have kept you too long from your

rest."

"Maybe he ought to have wather for his feet, he looks like a ghost,"

said Mrs. O'Toole, in an audible aside to her young lady.

"Perhaps it might refresh you," said the latter.

"Oh! I am as strong as a giant now," said I, "thanks to your good care,

Mrs. O'Toole; and if I look like a ghost it will fit me the better for

the society in which you know I am to pass the night."

"Holy Mary! Captin agrah, don't spake that away of the dead!"

"Good night," said Kate.

"From the weird and woeful power

Of midnight's awful hour;

May the Holy Cross preserve thee,

At thy need may Heaven serve thee!"

"After your benediction, Miss Vernon, I am equal to any ghostly

encounter! good night."

My first waking thought was the delightful certainty of meeting Kate at

breakfast, and my second, that one day of my sojourn had already flown.

With what terrible rapidity these precious last days made themselves

wings and fled away into the past! I cannot dwell upon the memory of

them.

I examined with great delight and loud eulogiums, the really admirable

picture on which Winter was now engaged, and acknowledged that Cyclops

was a first-rate subject.

"I have another here, not quite finished either," said he, "which

you may perhaps think equally interesting," and he turned round a

water-colour drawing. I started as it met my sight; it was Kate Vernon,

sitting as was her custom, at the open window of the cottage, her cheek

resting on her left hand, showing the graceful contour of her throat,

and her right playing as she was wont to do, when lost in thought, with

Cormac's ear; while the old hound sat gazing at her as though he would

fain ask what vision engrossed her fancy. It was a most lovely picture;

the lovelier for its admirable likeness to the original. How well I

knew that pensive and abstracted air; the large eyes gazing dreamily

into some imaginary world; the delicate, but rosy lips slightly apart;

you almost expected to hear them breathe the gentle sigh with which

she used to rouse herself from her reverie, and turn to tell you its

subject, so truthfully and naturally. "Oh! Winter," I exclaimed, "can

love or money induce you to let me take the faintest sketch of this

most exquisite picture?"

He looked sharply at me, "No! no! most noble Captain, it was a labour

of love, and I'll not have my beautiful pupil's lofty brow, decking the

wall of a barrack room. Keep the portrait in your own heart; it may

prove a talisman, but I fear the colours will fade as fast as one of

Turner's most glowing pictures."

I hardly heard him as I stood; my eyes fixed on the face I was so soon

to lose, as if I would stamp its lineaments indelibly on my memory; he

went on--"What business would you have with Miss Vernon's likeness?"

"True, true, oh! hard of heart; yet with me it would be a sacred thing.

No, do not put it away yet. Oh! skill in portrait painting is the only

talent really worth cultivating. I wish to Heaven I had it! Winter,

in the whole category of human ills, is there one can surpass the

wretchedness of saying good bye?"

"Yes, regret, when too late, that you did not say it. _Capitano mio, è

meglio sdrucciolar' co' piedi che colla lingua._"

The kind little artist was enchanted with the picture I brought him. It

was a monk kneeling before an altar, on which the candles were burning,

and the light and shade were skilfully disposed; he shook my hand

repeatedly, and plunged into a learned disquisition as to the probable

master by whom it was painted: he immediately invited the whole party

at the Priory to dine with him, in order to discuss fully the important

question of placing my gift, which he designated by the name of the

giver rather incongruously.

I waited to give Kate "Proverbial Philosophy" till I could find her

alone; and returning one morning from a visit to Gilpin, I found the

Colonel had disappeared on some behest, and Miss Vernon in solitary

possession of the drawing-room; she was working something in a frame,

but the open piano proved she had been engaged in her favourite pursuit.

I threw myself into the Colonel's chair, and answered her enquiries for

Gilpin; then, after a pause, stood up, and leaning against the mantel

piece, said, "Miss Vernon, I met with a book in London I thought would

suit you; 'Proverbial Philosophy,' have you seen it? I thought you

would like it."

She stretched out her hand to receive the volume.

"Is it for me? Oh thank you! I have so much wished to have it; I shall

read it with pleasure, I am sure, and give many a grateful thought to

the donor."

"That is more than I would presume to expect, and I suspect the pains

or pleasures of memory will fall to my share."

"No, it is those who stay at home who remember best; new scenes bring

new thoughts; but I wish, Captain Egerton, we could see you start with

better spirits on your travels."

"Higher spirits! how can you suppose I do not grudge every moment that

brings the hour of separation nearer?"

She looked up at me as I stood leaning moodily against the mantel-piece.

"But all men must some time or other go forth amongst strangers, and

few seem to regret it as you do."

"Not when they leave behind all they covet on earth--not when they must

go in silence and say good bye, with a calm face and a breaking heart?"

"Oh!" cried Miss Vernon, clasping her hands, "that is terrible! God

comfort such a sorrow! but at your age there is always hope; you will

return, and what are a few years to a true heart?"

"I may return too late and"--

The door opened, and most opportunely the Colonel came in, for Kate was

beginning to look at me with a certain startled expression, as if the

truth was dawning on her, when accident, not my own self-command, saved

me from breaking through the line of conduct I had myself laid down.

The next day was Christmas Day, and I knelt once more beside Kate

Vernon in the old church, and heard her rich sweet notes as she joined

in responses, or breathed the "Amen." And I felt the quiet absorbed

attention with which she joined in the service communicate something of

its earnestness to myself.

Mrs. O'Toole came in after we returned from church to show herself in

her scarlet shawl.

"It's a grand colour entirely," said she, "as warm as your own heart,

Captin jewil, an' it's the hard word to say good bye to ye; sorra one

of me, but the salt tears is in me eyes when I think iv it."

Gilpin and the Winters dined with us that day; we had a pleasant

cheerful dinner; I was determined to enjoy myself if possible, but it

would not do, I was but seeming after all. I felt each passing moment

was deepening the lines of my character; no wonder that the strongest

exertion of my self command only sufficed to silence any expression

that might damp my companions' mirth, but could not enable me to add my

quota to the general stock; my only consolation was to look at Kate's

smooth calm brow, and thank Heaven I had never attempted to raise any

feeling in her breast, that could have resulted in the aching sadness

which oppressed my own; she might have loved me, for hers was too

loving a nature to be insensible of affection, and a true and earnest

heart is always worth any woman's acceptance; and as I met her ready,

unconcealed, and sympathising glance, that often and openly sought

mine, I breathed a silent ejaculation, "God preserve her from sorrow

and suffering!"

We had a good deal of music, much of it sacred, and appropriate to the

day; but before we separated Kate sang the "Land of the Stranger;"

it is little more than recitative, but the expression with which she

sang it, and her full clear honied notes!--oh how impossible to write

down, in so many measured words, the strong tide of mingled emotions

and passionate wishes which swept across my soul as I listened to that

voice!

But I will not dwell any longer on these last sweet painful days. Now,

even now, writing in all the sobered calm of older years, I find my pen

hurrying on in the vain effort to depict what language cannot convey.

Winter invited us to spend my last evening with him; I would have

preferred far to have spent it uninterruptedly at the Priory, but

it was not so! At the little supper, which as usual closed the

entertainment, our good host proposed my health as follows:--

"I know you'll agree that the toast I'm about to give is one we can all

drink with unalloyed satisfaction. I give you the health of one who has

passed through the fire of fashion and frivolity, and yet kept a corner

of his heart for truth and reality, and preserved enough of good taste

to turn from a clique, of which I may fairly say, _O t' ha ingannato, o

ingannar ti vuole_, to the more tangible world of action; one to whom

we owe the existence of a valued friend (_Carramba!_ Gilpin, it would

have been all over with you but for him); in a word I give you, 'Fred

Egerton.'"

The toast was most enthusiastically received, even Miss Vernon clapped

her hands approvingly; I made an appropriate acknowledgment, and soon

after, _apropos_ to my new Regiment, Kate turned to me and said, "By

the bye I always forgot to tell you, Nurse has a son in the 26th

Lancers; pray do not forget to give Denis O'Toole opportunities of

distinguishing himself. I have written a letter for her to him, which I

will give you to-morrow."

And the parting moment came fast, too fast.

"Well, good bye, my dear Egerton," said the Colonel, grasping my hand

in both of his, which shook a little, "in all human probability I shall

never see you more; take an old man's blessing with you."

"I can never forget the happy days I have spent with you, my dear sir;

I will write from Bombay--if I have time, from Alexandria. Do not let

me quite escape your memory!"

I took Kate's hand, I ventured to hold it in both of mine--I could

utter no word, but gazed long and silently into her sweet, calm eyes:

she looked pale, but seemed perfectly composed.

"God bless you, Captain Egerton, and make you happy," she said, in a

somewhat unsteady voice.

I turned and left the room without a word!

"Christ shield ye from harm, captin jewil," sobbed Mrs. O'Toole, "don't

be down-hearted entirely, sure there's many a prayer goes wid ye, an'

the coldest hour is the hour before daydawn. Holy Mary keep ye, an'

don't forget the letther for me poor boy."

"Nurse, dear Nurse, good-bye, I'll take care of your son."

And my last glimpse of the Priory gate showed me Mrs. O'Toole with her

apron to her eyes, and Cormac looking uneasily after me.

Another day, and I stood at the stern of the steamer which was rapidly

cleaving the smooth waters, straining my eyes after the quickly

vanishing land, my arms folded tightly on my chest, as if to press

down the bitterness that swelled my heart into the stern stillness

of manful endurance: all the events of the last four months, even to

their minutiæ, stood clear before me; and as the distant outline of

the land I was leaving--probably for ever--faded from my sight, and I

felt the keen pang that in leaving it I left my all, which has rent

many a heart, Kate Vernon's words flashed back upon my memory--"I am

quite sure that a stedfast resignation to what you have brought upon

yourself; an unmurmuring struggle to retrieve, will work its own cure;"

and I slowly turned to go below, feeling how great was the change

wrought in me since life presented no deeper ill than an unlucky change

of quarters.

END OF VOL. I.

T. C. Newby, Printer, 30, Welbeck-street, Cavendish-square.