CHAPTER II.

UNCERTAINTY.

Welcome indeed was the gleam of hope, afforded by this discovery, to

the Colonel and Kate.

To their non-legal minds, it appeared that any acknowledgment of money

received, was sufficient, although no sum was mentioned; and Kate even

felt remorse for her hasty condemnation of Mr. Taaffe; as she concluded

the production of the newly found letter, would settle the question at

once, and for ever, and draw forth an humble apology from the offender;

her spirits rose even above their usual height, and overleaping,

with the sanguine vivacity of her age and race, all intervening

probabilities, she revelled in her anticipated visit to Italy, and

spent many a pleasant half-hour in endeavouring to overcome nurse's

inveterate antipathy to "thim rampagin divils, the Frinch" (under which

name she classed all foreign nations and foreigners), and in exercising

her powers of persuasion to induce the Winters and Gilpin to join in

the pilgrimage.

"You know we would not travel in any extravagant style, _Caro

Maestro_," she said, to Winter, as they were enjoying an April day,

which seemed to have borrowed the balmy air of early summer. They had

crossed the ferry, and were strolling side by side, her tall, graceful

form, and elastic step, contrasting strongly with his stout puffy

figure.

"You had better tie a knapsack on your shoulder at once, and trudge

it--humph! ha! not so fast if you please--you walked me up that hill at

a killing pace.

"But seriously--let us consider the best method of setting to work, for

you cannot think how eagerly I look forward to the journey; and if we

go cheaply to work, Mr. Gilpin might join us, and--"

"_Signorina Carrissima_, yes! I want to speak seriously," replied

Winter, in a kinder accents than usual. "Are you not too sanguine

about this journey, You make too little of the law's uncertainties.

Mr. Moore's letters seem to promise well, as you read them. Your

grandfather and I see only, and at best, the promise of a long, perhaps

ruinous litigation. I felt so convinced that this will be the case,

that, from the first, I strongly advised Colonel Vernon to endeavour

to effect a compromise. It is true you have not much to divide, but

remember _chi lascia il poco per haver l'assai nè l'uno nè l'altro

avera mai_,". I see I am acting as usual like a brute," he continued,

thickly. "I intended to say all this by degrees, and tenderly--but I

plunged into it at last too abruptly. My dear child, it cuts me to the

heart, to hear you anticipating such unalloyed enjoyment, and forming

such plans, when perhaps the reverse is before you; and I fancy your

grandfather feels somewhat as I do, though he is more sanguine than I

am."

They walked on a few paces, in silence--Kate's color varying, and her

heart, after feeling, for a second or two, to stand still (at this

sudden and rude shock, to her bright dreams), throbbing as though it

would burst its prison.

"_Bella mia_, dear child, are you angry with me?" cried Winter

anxiously. "Why do you not speak?"

"Simply, kind friend," returned she, putting her arm through his,

"because I could not--angry with you? no; I am obliged to you," she

added, with an effort to smile. "And now tell me all you think, and

what we ought to do."

"Humph! you _are_ a good girl; you see, my dear, it is more than

a month since this business began; if it could have been settled

quickly, it would be settled before this, and successful or

unsuccessful, a chancery suit is ruin. There, you had better know it

all."

"And are we absolutely embarked in this ruinous course?" asked Kate,

faintly.

"I fear so. Did you not see Moore's last letter."

"No; grandpapa said there was nothing new in it."

"Ha! a mistaken tenderness; there certainly was nothing new in it; but

the plot thickens; and, I fear there is no case at present, to preven

Mr. Taaffe proceeding to revive the judgment, and ultimately obtain a

receiver over your grandfather's remaining property."

"A receiver--what for?"

"To receive the rents in payment of the debt, if debt there be."

"What, all of them?"

"Yes all; but, do not be too much cast down, remember you have, few,

but friends sincere; who will stick by you, and--"

"Dear Mr. Winter, let us be silent for a moment, I want to collect my

thoughts."

They walked on in silence for some time.

"Then from what you tell me, before long we may be left quite

penniless! Are you sure that this is a true picture of our case? and

that your hatred of law does not color it!"

"Heaven grant your conjecture may be right," cried Winter. "I only tell

you my own, and I think your grandfather's, real view of the matter.

I have been long wishing for an opportunity to do so. I dreaded the

effect of the shock on your sensitive and imaginative nature, and

intended to have broken it to you gradually."

"But," continued Kate, not noticing the latter part of his speech,

"shall we have nothing left? no money at all! good God! And grandpapa,

what am I to do for him--and nurse? Do not think me very weak, but I

cannot help the terror I feel."

"Miss Vernon, I vow to Heaven, I only intended just to prepare you a

little for the worst; perhaps matters may not be so bad as your alarmed

imagination paints. My great object in speaking thus to you is to show

the necessity for endeavouring to effect a compromise, or at least, to

come to some understanding with your grandfather as to future plans,

you cannot look about you too soon; I know the first shock of a thing

of this kind is terrible--but you are not one of those cowards who

defer looking danger in the face, until it is too late."

"Yes, I know, but what plan can we possibly think of, if we are to have

all our money taken from us, what are we to do?"

"Dear child, be prepared for it. I would in the first place, begin at

once to curtail every possible outlay--look out for a tenant for the

Priory. Take a smaller, humbler abode, or, a thousand times better,

make our house your home, till matters are more decided."

"Always kind and good," murmured Kate, "and there is nothing more you

would suggest?"

"No; except to speak freely of it all to the Colonel, and, by so doing,

creep into his complete confidence."

"Oh! Mr. Winter," cried Kate, with an irrepressible burst of tears,

"and is this to be his end? I always hoped that something, I knew

not what would happen to restore him to his old position; and now to

think of his being obliged to live and end his days in some mean and

unsightly place."

"Courage Kate--you know not what good may be hidden up in store for

you, behind this sterner dispensation; I have experienced severe

poverty, and I tell you, none but those who have felt it, can know how

few, how simple, and yet, how satisfying are the wants and pleasures of

life."

"For you and I, yes; but for grandpapa, at his age, after youth

and manhood spent in the possession and enjoyment of wealth and a

dignified proposition."

"If I mistake not, Colonel Vernon's greatest concern will be on your

account, and if he sees you content, or at least, resigned, he will be

the same."

"Well, we can say no more now; I feel how necessary it was, I should

be roused from my false security, and that you have acted as a true

friend in undertaking, what I know, must have been so painful a task.

I must try and think clearly and deeply; and will speak to you about

my cogitations; meanwhile, as we shall soon be home, let us change the

subject, and I will endeavour to recover my serenity before I meet

grandpapa."

Winter pressed the hand she held out to him, with a feeling of sincere

respect and admiration, for the manner in which she had borne his

communications, and an earnest wish that the platform, at the next

Jews' meeting, might prove insecure, and so open the ranks of the

peerage to Fred Egerton--

"Though," he added, mentally, "there is no knowing the effects of

prosperity on him."

"Is grandpapa at home, nurse?" asked Kate.

"No, miss, he said he felt lonesome, and walked out to see Mr. Gilpin."

Thankful for a few minutes' solitary reflection, she ran to her room,

and hastily fastening the door, threw herself into a chair--not to

think, that would be by no means a correct term to apply to the

confusion of ideas, and images, which presented themselves to her mind;

some most foreign to the subject of the conversation with Winter.

Dungar, and her early days, with their bright anticipations rose

painfully clear before her eyes--the dreadful possibility of seeing her

grandfather in poverty--and the insurmountable difficulty of making

nurse understand the necessity for retrenchment--the distressing

consciousness of the necessity to think deeply, struggling with

the impossibility of fixing her thoughts; and a dim feeling that an

impassable barrier was about to be raised between her and the class of

which Fred Egerton was a representative.

All these and a thousand more undefined, shadowy, outlines swept across

her mind, while she sat so still that she felt the throbbing of her

heart, as if echoed in her head, and she could almost almost hear the

pulses that vibrated through her slight frame.

Frightened at this continued rebellion of her thoughts, against her

will, she threw herself on her knees, silently laying the painful chaos

before the Almighty ruler and searcher of hearts!

"If accepted as coming from God," she murmured, "and therefore good,

nothing is unbearable, Mr. Gilpin says, and he is right; perhaps we

may succeed in this business after all, though I feel quite hopeless,

after what Mr. Winter has said--but if we have no money, could I not

earn it? I have a good knowledge of music--ah, delightful! how proud I

should be, to earn it for grandpapa, who has always taken such care of

me; and nurse would not mind it much. I like teaching. Ah! we may be

happy yet--I must speak to Mr. Winter about it. Ah! nurse's dream may

come true, but by contraries, after all; who can tell what strength

love, and God's good help may lend even to these weak arms," and she

stretched them out. "Enough to support dear grandpapa, perhaps--that

would be a proud achievement!" she said almost aloud, as a feeling of

quiet courage swelled her heart.

She proceeded to bathe her eyes and make her simple toilette,

interrupted, it is true, by a delicious vision that would intrude

itself, of Fred Egerton wealthy and powerful, flying to save her and

hers, and interposing the shield of his affectionate care between them

and every earthly ill; in vain she chided herself for so far-fetched

a thought; instinctively she felt how readily and rapturously he would

perform such a part; and however impressively she told herself she was

absurd and visionary the idea would return. It was the nearest approach

to love that had ever connected itself with him in her mind, and his

image, once invested with this hue, never again lost it.

There has been so much said, and said with eloquence, pathos and truth,

of the heroism of every day life, that I fear to approach ground

already so well occupied; yet I cannot pass, in silence, the resolution

with which Kate calmed herself to meet her grandfather at dinner; and,

her attention now fully roused, preserved that composure even while

observing a thousand minute indications of despondency, which cut her

to the heart.

"Shall I speak to him of business to-night?" she asked herself more

than once; anxious to begin that line of conduct which Winter had

pointed out to be her duty; and, each time as she looked at the worn

expression of that beloved and venerated face, her heart answered,

"No, not to-night, let him have a good night's rest, and to-morrow,

to-morrow, I will unflinchingly approach the subject."

So she brought him his footstool and moved his chair to the right angle

with the fire.

"Are you quite well darling?" said he, gazing up at her as she arranged

a cushion at his back, "I thought you looked pale at dinner."

Ah! Fred Egerton, dashing and fearless as you are, could you brave

danger and death with nobler courage than that which steadied Kate's

voice, when, instead of yielding to the almost irresistible inclination

to throw herself into her grandfather's arms and pour forth passionate

and tearful assurances, that, come what may, there was a world of

inexhaustible love and energy, all his own in her heart, she said

gently, but with a certain cheering steadiness--

"Well, always quite well, dear grandpapa. Now take a nice sleep."

"God bless you, Kate."

Seating herself, book in hand, in the window, away from the fire, for

which the evening was almost too warm, but which the Colonel could

not bear to give up, she gazed long and fixedly at the river, and

the broken bank, the fields, the copse, and an orchard to the right,

now one sheet of blossom; the sturdy old oak, which had looked like

a rugged skeleton all the winter, now bursting into leaf; at the

general flush of delicate, yellowish green which seemed to pervade

all vegetable nature; yet the gradual close of evening, beautiful as

it was, impressed her with a feeling of sadness, partly caused by the

emotions of the day, and partly by the mournful tenderness, which is so

often and so strangely induced, by the contemplation of coming night in

early spring.

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."

Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 2 (of 3) · 第 2 / 9 章