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!"
"Oh, blessed queen of heaven! that iver I should live to see the day;
not even the next gale?"
Kate shook her head, and Mrs. O'Toole, placing the can beside her, sat
down on a log of timber by the river, as if unable to support herself
under such intelligence.
"An' you so tinderly rared, an' the masther! Ah! sweet Mary, what'ill
become iv us at all, at all? Taaffe, sure I remimber him, the desavin'
vagabone, ye wor Arthur Taaffe, wid a hard word for the poor, an'
yer cap in yer hand to the quolity ye wor ruinatin'; faith, it's a
miserable pity the masther let it go so asy; sure the wind iv a word
to my sisther's husband's son, Denny Doolan 'ud have riz the boys on
Knockdrum; an' I'd like to see the process sarver that 'ud get the tip
of his toe on the lands."
"You know, nurse, that is a sort of thing happily gone by."
"More's the pity if it is; how are yez to deal with thaves an' ruffins,
if it is'nt with the sthrong hand?"
There was a pause, during which, nurse, her hands clasped and embracing
her knees, rocked herself to and fro, and Kate, leaning against an old
thorn, (now bursting into primeval youth and beauty,) gazed sadly down
upon her.
"Six an' four is ten, an' four is fourteen," now burst out Mrs.
O'Toole, abruptly. "Ye see, Miss Kate, me daughther is doin' well in
Ameriky, wid her husband; an' Denis in the hoigth iv grandure wid the
Captin in Ingee, an' I, aitin' an' dhrinkin' iv the best iv vittles,
an' doin' just what I like in the Curnel's house, wid shawls, an'
gowns, an' lace caps, guve me by the thrunkful; faith, me wages is just
so much dhross; I'd as lieve light the candles with the notes; so,
Miss Kate, avick! if the Masther ud keep the money for me till betther
times, I'd be greatly behoulden to him, he'd save me from bein' chated;
any ways it's a murtherin' shame to have it lyin' there useless."
"Nurse, my own, dear nurse," said Kate, clasping her arms round her,
"where is there so true a heart as yours? No, no, this will not do."
Then, (as nurse reddened a little,) "should we want it you shall be the
first I apply to; but we shall have a hundred pounds to go on with;
and Lady Desmond has offered us all we want; and besides, (approaching
the last dreaded communication, with a desperate attempt at gaiety)
besides, I am going to earn quite a fortune."
"Airn a fortune, Miss Kate! ah, how, jewel?"
"I am, you know, a good musician, and in London there is money to be
got for teaching music, and--"
"Miss Vernon, is it a tacher ye'd be afther makin' iv yerself? You that
was born iv as ould a stock as any in all Ireland, ay oulder. Och!
what's come to ye at all, at all, you that used to be like a princess
wid yer aiquals, an' a angel wid yer infariors? I niver thought I'd
live to see the day I could say, I'm ashamed iv ye! ochone! ochone!"
"Nor will you, if you will think for a moment," said Kate,
affectionately taking Mrs. O'Toole's hand between both her own. "Listen
to me: suppose I had been born your own daughter, instead of your
having adopted me, would you think me mean if I worked for the support
of my grandfather, or, would you approve of my leaving him and myself
to live on what we could get from the charity of others? No, I thought
not. Will the good and gracious God regard me with less favour, for
endeavouring to submit and bow before the sentence He has, in His
wisdom, pronounced on our first parents? 'In the sweat of thy brow
shall thou eat thy bread.'"
"No, ochone no, alanah!" sobbed nurse, "sure I'm the unfortunate ould
woman to live to this day--to see mee beautiful child, that shu'd have
married to a prence, tachin' thim thaves iv English the piania--an the
masther! what 'ill become iv him? The Lord look down on him! Sweet
Jesus pity us!"
"Now, nurse," resumed Kate, tremulously, "I know how you could do
me a service--I will tell you, how you may be my support; I shall
have enough to do with grandpapa--help me to cheer him--make light
of our troubles to him; and--" clasping her hand, "Oh, dear! old
friend, do not scare away the courage so necessary to me--by these sad
lamentations. There is one thing more I must say to you; we have no
right to induce you to come along with us in ignorance, and, God knows,
if we shall be able to pay you, even the small wages you so generously
insisted on, when we left Dungar. Mr. Winter offers you higher terms,
and a comfortable home, and--"
"Och! what have I done, that ye should think I'm not desarvin' iv being
wid yez, in throuble? Is id at this time of day ye want to be tould
that I'd lave thousands to beg through the world wid yez--lave ye! och,
where would I go? Sure yez the whole world to ould nurse! Lave ye, an
ye in throuble. Oh! what have I done that ye would spake that way to
me?" And covering her face in the folds of her cloak--poor nurse sobbed
aloud!
"Hear me, my own dear, earliest friend," cried Kate, kneeling beside
her, and endeavouring to take her hand, "I have said this, simply,
because I was told to do so--I never dreamt--I never _could_ dream of
parting from you, and that subject is at rest between us for ever--come
what may, we will be together. Do you hear me? Put your arms round me,
and say you forgive your own Kate."
And nurse folded her to her heart fervently, exclaiming--
"The blessin' iv Christ on ye, avourneen!"
There was a pause for some moments--broken at length by the sound of
footsteps, seldom heard in that unfrequented spot.
"We must go home now," said Kate, wiping away her tears. Nurse, still
silent, rose, and lifted her can.
"An where is it yer going to tache? that iver I should say the word!"
she asked with a fresh burst of grief. "In London--in London, musha,
but it's a big place, and sure the house o' Lords is there, an I'll go
bail the masther--'ill meet many a one that heard tell iv D'Arcy Vernon
in Dungar--who knows Miss Kate; but some iv thim 'ill spake to the
Queen, to make him a jidge or a gineral, or the like, any ways; it's
sich a tunderin' big place, that ye might be tachin' in one corner, and
livin' like a prencess in another, an no one a bit the wiser; sure, yer
right hand wouldn't know what the lift was doin', in a big place like
that."
"Very true, nurse, I dare say no one will know what I am about."
"The Lord send!" said Mrs. O'Toole, heartily, as the fact of Kate's
teaching for money began to lose half its horrors in the fancied
possibility of concealing the inglorious occupation.
"Now, nurse," said Kate, pausing at the gate of their little domain,
"remember our agreement, you must not make bad worse to grandpapa."
"Niver you fear, darlint, I'd bite the tongue out iv me head, afore I'd
spake the word, that id vex yer; only dont send me from ye, mavourneen."
True to her word, when the Colonel, after dinner--in consequence of
Kate's having intimated that nurse knew how affairs stood--said--
"Bad times, Nelly--bad times--worse than I ever thought I should live
to see."
She replied cheerfully, and steadily--
"Thrue, for ye, sir; but there's good luck afore yez, for all that--an'
Miss Kate an meself's goin' to be as bould as lions, so we are faith,
I'll see yez give the go-bye to thim thavin' attornies, yet."
Swiftly sped the interval that remained before they left their peaceful
dwelling; numerous were the arrangements to be made before the final
move, and the selections of those peculiarly sacred treasures, that
could not be left behind, the number of which was daily swelled. Winter
took charge of the Colonel's picture, but, "John Anderson," was packed
for removal--music and drawings--a pet vase or two--her books, and some
cushions for the Colonel, was all that Kate could take with her of
her pleasant, pretty home; but the sofa and _prie dieu_, at which she
had so diligently worked, to give an air of greater elegance to their
little drawing-room--the arm chair, so associated in her mind's eye
with the noble, venerable form of her grandfather--the flower garden,
now bursting into radiant beauty, and which Fred Egerton used so much
to admire, even in its autumn garb--all these must pass away into
strange hands; she must not only leave her ark, but ever think of it as
desecrated! And, Elijah Bush, too, he must be left; and the navigator's
little orphan; and the keeper's sickly boy--all her poor people--the
various objects to which her full, rich sympathies so freely flowed.
Yes; many a link that bound her, closely and pleasantly, to her calm
and quiet life, in their ecclesiastical retreat, she was compelled to
break; and still through all the saddening occupations which preceded
their dreaded journey, Kate endeavoured to keep her mind fixed upon
the future she had laid down for herself, with a steadiness which,
exhibited in some more high sounding and attractive cause than the mere
common-place duty of earning bread for her parent, would have drawn
forth odes and laudations from many a potent pen.
Nurse's conduct was beyond all praise; not even when alone with Kate,
did she indulge in anything beyond a passing condemnation of attorneys,
generally; and good little Mrs. Winter, only half enlightened as to the
real motives of her friends' departure, was invulnerable to the prying
of Miss Araminta Cox.
Matters stood thus and time had run by, to within a week of the removal
to London, when Gilpin, now very weak, interrupted Kate's practice one
morning.
"My dear Mr. Gilpin," said she, rising to receive him, with some
surprise, "this is most imprudent!"
"I could not let you go without paying one more visit to the Priory."
His cough interrupted him.
"But we should have called on you, I intended doing so with grandpapa;
indeed you were wrong to venture out, but, as you are here, how glad I
am to see you, and the day is so fine."
"When do you start?" he asked, feebly; sinking back exhausted into an
arm chair Kate had drawn forward.
"Ah, do not talk of that; Tuesday or Wednesday. Now the time draws near
I feel my heart sink at the idea of leaving all we are accustomed to,
to cast ourselves like ship-wrecked mariners on the great troubled
ocean of London."
"And I have almost prayed that you might remain a little longer; but
it is not to be so. I have crawled out to-day, my dear Miss Vernon,
for I knew I should find you alone, and I wanted to speak a few quiet
words with you. I almost feared to meet you after this sad change in
all our hopes for you; I have so deplored it, that, judging by myself,
I dreaded its effects on you, but your face re-assures me, there is no
grief, scarce a grave look there. I have so much wished to speak with
you."
"And I with you, dear Mr. Gilpin, I feel it is so long since I saw you."
"But let us speak at once of all that has occurred, I shall soon be so
weary. How is it that there is none of the languor of sorrow, the fever
of anxiety in your face?"
"Because I feel neither--do you know, I am half surprised to find how
the first feeling of dread at the idea of earning money, has worn away
by steadfastly looking at it. It reminds me of those double pictures
which appear wintry when you first look at them, but, hold them to
the light, and the deeper, richer colors of summer, painted beneath,
shine forth! Then, dear grandpapa has borne up so wonderfully, and poor
nurse has been so manageable, and you and Mr. Winter so--so kind, that
I should be an ungrateful coward to let myself feel sad, except," she
added, as the tears sprang to her eyes, "at the thought of parting from
you all."
Gilpin was silent, for a few moments, and then said,
"My dear young lady, forgive me, for not knowing your noble nature
better! I ought to have been certain you would be above the common
grief that mourns the possibility of losing caste, as the worst of
earthly woes; my chief anxiety to see you, and to see you alone, was to
hear fully, from your own lips, all the plans of which I do not like to
question the Colonel too closely, and to offer you a few hints, which,
(excuse me if I presume too far) may be useful to you."
"Our plans are simple enough. To remove to London, where, through the
interest of my old music master and one or two friends, to whom Mr.
Winter offers me introductions, I hope to obtain pupils in music, who
will pay me for instruction, that is all."
"If you will allow me I will add one, to an old master of mine. And
these are all the introductions you will take with you?"
"Yes, all. Mr. Winter mentioned the bishop's wife as likely to be of
use; but, to say the truth, I shrunk from the idea of asking her; I
do not like to have the matter talked over at the little clerical
tea-parties of A----. So much for my high-mindedness."
"Very natural, and a few good professional introductions are worth
scores of mere recommendations to fashionable ladies, who consider they
fulfil their promise if they mention your name to any acquaintance
who may happen to make enquiries for an instructress. Now if Herman,
(I think he was your master,) will really back you up, and give
you his junior pupils, you may be very successful. I am afraid my
recommendation will not prove very effectual, but try it."
"And, Mr. Gilpin, what should you--that is have you any idea what I
ought to ask for my services?"
"You must learn all that from Herman, or Winter's friends; as to
the terms on which you and your pupils' families will meet, accept
some hints, which experience enables me to give; God knows you will
teach under very different circumstances from what I did. Novels
and magazines teem with the most revolting instances of the slights
shown to lady teachers. In my opinion all this may be very much, if
not altogether avoided, except by the resident governess; occasional
teachers have only to observe this rule; treat those with whom you
come in contact, professionally, as men of business do those whom they
encounter on 'Change, or in their offices; once a lesson is given,
the relations between pupil and teacher are at an end, and you have
no more to say to each other; for this purpose resist any advance
towards intimacy, which may--which will be sure to be made to you. Am I
speaking too freely, Miss Vernon, in thus placing the reality of your
future before you?"
"No," said Kate, firmly, and holding out her hand to him. "No, I feel
the need of such suggestions, and I like to talk of what must be; it
is good for me, and there is no use in making grandpapa think of it at
all more than necessary; I hope to manage so as often to cheat him into
forgetfulness of my occupation; only I do trust Mr. Winter's friend may
not engage apartments for us in a wretched, narrow street. Lady Desmond
used to live in Berkeley street, and it was reckoned a good situation,
I thought it horrible."
"You might try the Kensington or Bayswater side."
"Any trees or flowers to be seen there?"
"Oh, yes, plenty."
"Then I will beg of Mr. Winter to suggest that locale."
"Mrs. O'Toole of course goes with you?"
"Of course. Dear nurse, she is so true and self-forgetful!"
"And Cormac, what will you do with him? You can hardly take that huge
animal with you."
"Not just yet; he remains with the Winters; but will follow us when we
can arrange to have him. Mr. Winter said no one would take us in, at
first, with so formidable a looking companion."
"I should fear not, but--"
The entrance of the Colonel here cut short their private conference;
he, like his granddaughter, expressed surprise and pleasure, not
unmingled with uneasiness, at the organist's appearance, and, after
some discussion, he agreed to dine with them, at a somewhat earlier
hour than usual; as the softness of a June evening could not possibly,
they all agreed, be more injurious than the morning air.
"And let us send for Winter and his wife," concluded the Colonel.
Once more the little circle met round the hospitable board in the
Priory dining-room, and though the absence of many familiar ornaments,
already packed, gave a look of barrenness to the pretty sitting room,
and bespoke the approaching departure, the party was not a sad one;
each tried to cheer the others, and in so doing roused himself.
So ended the last dinner at the Priory, and never again did the same
party meet under the same roof.
Some such presentiment touched Kate's heart, and gave a tenderness
to her attentions, an under current of feeling even to the fanciful
sallies and playful arguments with which she strove to enliven her
guests, which, gracefully as she ever played the part of hostess,
lent an inexpressible charm to all she uttered; and even Mrs. Winter,
usually unobservant, seemed impressed by the peculiar sweetness of
her voice and manner; and often, in after life, did Kate look back to
that last evening as singularly agreeable, despite the approaching
separation.
The last! Oh, how much of tenderness clings round that word--the last
word or look, the last even of suffering, what a grasp, they take of
the memory; as though the soul, in itself immortal, cannot familiarise
its faculties with any thing so finite, so sad, so passing as the last.