THE NEW WORLD CONTINUED.
The morning of Miss Vernon's visit to her _ci-devant_ music-master
rose bright and clear; and smiling at her own care, it was with rather
more than usual attention to her appearance, she arranged her simple
toilette; for, thought she, "I am to meet his daughter--and women judge
so much more critically of dress than men."
The Colonel's announcement of his intention to accompany her, called
forth all her tact to avoid the escort. She remembered keenly,
the effect produced on him, by Mr. Langley's plain, unvarnished
communications; and, as he had now apparently forgotten them, and
returned to his usual happy, easy frame of mind, she dreaded the
renewal of those unpleasant sensations, which had so disturbed him, by
the discussion of the important questions of pounds, shillings, and
pence, which she was nerving herself to approach boldly; besides, she
did not feel quite certain, how Herman would take the intelligence she
had to communicate. Then she dreaded that the kind old man might fancy
himself _de trop_.
"I am afraid, dear grandpapa, we must start so early, you will not have
time to read the paper comfortably."
"It cannot take more than half-an-hour to drive from this to Baker
Street?"
"I intended walking. Cabs are so expensive."
"Why, Kate, my love, you are grown quite miserly."
Finally, she managed to insinuate a strong necessity that he should
return Mr. Langley's call, and fix a day for her to visit his studio,
and carried her point, that she and Mrs. O'Toole should walk to Baker
Street, by the Park, while the Colonel was pacified, by the paper, and
the projected visit to Langley.
"Good bye, my own, dear grandpapa--am I looking nice?"
"Yes, darling, like a rose-bud, as you are."
And he gazed proudly at her, over his glasses, as she stood before him
in her simple, elegant, muslin dress, straw bonnet, with plain white
ribbon, and large, soft _barège_ shawl.
"There isn't the like iv her in Buckingham Palace!" said Mrs. O'Toole,
with a confidential nod, as she followed her out of the room.
"Keep to the Parks, till you come to the Marble Arch, then down Oxford
Street--any one will show you the way to Portman Square, and--"
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Crooks, once I am in Portman Square, I shall know
my way."
Kate was not quite so agreeable a companion as usual during this walk,
as she felt considerable nervousness about the approaching interview.
Nurse, too, greatly disliking the errand on which they were bound,
spoke little, except an occasional ejaculation of pious discontent, or
a growl at the various conductors, who kindly invited them to ride in
their omnibusses.
Their walk was, therefore, silent and fatiguing; but Baker Street was
gained at last.
"Not at home, 'm," said a smart girl, with a cap at the back of her
head, in reply to Miss Vernon's enquiries.
"And Miss Herman?"
"Oh, Miss Herman is at home, 'm--please walk this way."
"Nurse, will you wait for me."
And Kate followed the servant up a handsomely carpeted stair-case.
Miss Herman was working something in a frame; she was more
English-looking than her father, with a profusion of fair hair, and in
a very handsome morning costume.
"I have expected to see Miss Vernon," she said, rising to receive her
visitor, with much graciousness, and rather too much ease. "My father
told me, he expected a visit from one of his former pupils."
"I was so fortunate as to meet him accidentally, the day before
yesterday, and was delighted to renew my acquaintance with him."
"I have often heard my father speak of you, and of your great taste
for music; you were quite one of his pet pupils. I expect him in
immediately."
And the two young ladies were soon excellent friends, the more so, as
Kate's new acquaintance was quite able to make up for any silence or
pre-occupation, on her part, caused by the nervous anxiety with which
we watch for an important interview.
Miss Herman was evidently rather curious as to the object of Kate's
visit to her father; and Kate saw no reason why she should not gratify
her curiosity; for, pre-occupied as she was, any other topic was
irksome; and though not exactly of the stamp she had been accustomed
to, it was so long since she had enjoyed a conversation with a lady, at
all near her own age, that she found it a pleasant variety. Yet it was
with a sensation of relief, that poor Kate hailed her exclamation--
"There is my father's knock."
In another moment, he bustled into the room.
"Rather late, dear lady; but much pleased to see you."
"Luncheon directly, Gertrude."
Then seating himself by Kate, as his daughter left the room--
"Now let me hear in what I can serve you, my dear Miss Vernon, for I
got your note all safe."
Kate hesitated a moment, and then, her color rising, yet with a certain
playfulness, and without any preface, said--
"You thought I wanted to take lessons from you, my dear sir--no; I want
pupils myself."
Herman uttered a slight groan.
"I was apprehensive of something of the kind, when I read your note;
yet I turned from the idea, as quite preposterous; and your noble
relative!"
"She knows nothing of my intention. But my dear Mr. Herman," continued
Kate, with a firmness and decision, that surprised even herself, "let
us not waste time in deploring what is inevitable; believe me, there
is a strong necessity for the step I am about to take, which does not,
considered in the abstract, offer any great attractions; the question
is, can you, and will you, kindly put me in the way of carrying out my
views; to say that I have been your pupil, would, I am sure be greatly
in my favour; but I want more than that; to introduce me, in my new
career."
"Dear lady: I happen, it is true, to be rather the fashion as a musical
teacher, just at present; and I should be most happy to serve you;
but, though I gave you lessons for three or four months, I cannot say
I trained you; and I have some pupils, brought up to music as their
profession, whom I must consider first; besides though you had great
talent, as an amateur, it is a different thing for a teacher, ah--have
you kept up your music?"
"Yes, most diligently," replied Kate, who felt her cheeks hot, and her
hands cold, during this speech of Herman's.
"Well then," rising, and opening a grand piano, "let me hear you play,
and I will tell you exactly what I think; now you must hear the truth."
"It is all ask."
Miss Vernon, threw aside her bonnet and shawl, and seated herself
at the piano; but her memory seemed suddenly clouded, by the very
necessity for clearness, nay, her physical vision, by the intense
anxiety to acquit herself well, and while the room swam before her,
the only distinct image she could perceive, was Hermann, standing
opposite, with a look of severe criticism on his countenance; but
this moment of suffering did not last--Kate was making rapid strides
in the acquirement of that self-command, without which, the empire
of the world is but a wider range for the sceptred slave. "I must be
calm--I will not be false to myself," she thought, and pressing her
hands to her eyes for an instant, she conjured up the organist's pale,
benevolent face, as it used to look, when he listened to her playing,
and thus placed her spirit once more within the calm influence of
her old cloistered home; then with a true and steady finger, began
a fantasia, composed by Hermann himself. He started at the first
notes--and listened with wrapt attention, quite as much the effect of
her performance, as his own will. His daughter entered--he held up
a warning finger, to enjoin silence--she came to listen; but whether
there was one listener or a thousand, was now a matter of indifference
to Kate, who absorbed in the music, and revelling in the tones of
a magnificent instrument, after nearly a week's fast, poured forth
the really beautiful composition, with a fervour of feeling, and a
perfection of execution, that quite astonished her hearers; and when
at length, after some beautiful and difficult runs, the piece ended
with sustained chords, the German burst into exclamations of delight,
in his native tongue--echoed by his daughter; while Kate, agitated by
her success, stood quite still--silent from her utter inability to
articulate.
"But it is wonderful how well you have remembered my instructions, I
shall certainly mention you everywhere, as my pupil--my advanced pupil.
And now we will have our luncheon--let me offer you my arm. Do you
sing?"
"Yes."
"Ah, then, we will first have a song."
"No, no, Mr. Herman, I was foolishly nervous about playing, and now I
feel hardly able to speak much less to sing."
"Well then, you must come and have a glass of wine to restore you."
During the progress of the luncheon, Kate learned many particulars, as
to the usual rates of remuneration, &c.; and was surprised to find it
so low.
"As a beginner you can hardly hope to get much," said Hermann, who was
devouring veal pie and pickled cabbage, with great appetite; "but I
hope to be of use to you here too; I will try to get you the best terms
I can, and you will agree to whatever I arrange?"
"Of course; you are most kind, my dear sir; but how soon do you think
you will be able to get me some pupils?"
"We shall see--we shall see--you must not be in a hurry; and Gertrude,
give me that portfolio. Here," said he, "here is a simple air,
harmonise it in four parts, at your leisure, and enclose it to me, that
will show me what you know of theory; if you would consent to play and
sing at private concerts, you might make a very good thing of it; and
with your figure and face, I--"
"Hush, hush," cried Kate, with an involuntary action, and holding up
her hand, as if to repel by physical force, the idea suggested by
Herman, "it is useless to mention such a plan."
"Well well, as you like--but it is the pleasantest and most lucrative
line by far; and now, dear lady, I must run away--I am beyond my time,
and the old Duchess of L---- is as sharp as a needle about a minute
more or less of the lesson. God bless you--write your address in my
book, I might lose your note--you are a pupil I may well be proud of.
Good bye," and he bustled off.
After a few more civil words with Miss Herman; and writing her name and
address in the book, Herman kept for the purpose, Kate took her leave.
"I hope to have the pleasure of calling on you," said Miss Herman.
"I shall be most happy to see you, and to introduce you to grandpapa."
"If I do not call soon, pray excuse me, as I have many engagements. Are
there any omnibusses pass near your house?"
"Oh, yes, several. I think I had better take one going back--they are
not very disagreeable--are they?"
"Why, have you never been in an omnibus?" said Miss Herman, with some
surprise.
"Never as yet."
And (nurse having appeared from the lower regions,) Kate shook hands
once more with her lively, good-humoured, new acquaintance, and
departed in high spirits at the result of her visit.
"I am very tired, nurse, and I am sure so are you."
"Is it tired, Miss Kate? not a bit iv it; sure was'nt I aitin the
best iv cauld beef, an' dhrinkin' the best iv ale, down in the
house-keeper's parlour, they seem mighty nice kind of people, an' there
was wan of thim with the quarest cap."
"There, dear nurse, call that omnibus."
"Och, sure, Miss Kate, ye would'nt be afther goin' into wan iv the like
iv thim; its nothin's but the counter-jumpers goes in thim."
"No matter, the sooner I get used to them the better," said Miss
Vernon, resolute not to do things by halves but to descend freely, and,
therefore, gracefully. "So do not let another pass, nurse, for indeed I
am very tired."
"Oh, blessed Bridget! Oh, marciful Moses, look at this! did iver I
think to--Stop, will ye, have ye no eyes in yer head, ye thief? ye wor
niver tired bawlin' to us to go wid yez whin we did'nt want ye."
"Bayswater, mum--yes, mum," and Kate and Mrs. O'Toole were crammed
into a vehicle, apparently full to overflowing; at least so Kate
thought, though the conductor assured them he had not got his number.
The occupants, as usual, would not at first open their ranks, and it
was not until after some moments of uneasy balancing and staggering,
that our two novices in omnibus travelling, were accommodated with
seats, as far as possible from the door of the carriage. Nurse, who
was of tolerable dimensions, reducing two angular old maiden ladies
to scarcely visible lines; while poor Kate, with a feeling of deep
repugnance, was squeezed between a fat, elderly man and the upper end
of the conveyance; the road appeared interminable, and, owing to their
unacquaintance with it, and their inexperience of omnibus travel, they
were carried far beyond their destination.
Never had the sight of her grandfather's face been so welcome to Kate,
as when she saw him looking from the window on their return; after the
various small, but not the less trying, trials of the day; and joyous
was the tone, in which she exclaimed--"victoria, dearest grandpapa," as
she threw off her bonnet and shawl.
"Come and tell me all about it, dearest," said he, holding out his hand
to her.
She seated herself beside him, and detailed her interview with Herman,
brightening the brighter parts, and subduing the darker, with exquisite
pious tact; and then, turning from the subject of her own plans, which
always fretted the old gentleman, enquired what his movements had been,
and if there was a letter from the Winters?
"No, none," said the Colonel.
"Well, I will go and get ready for dinner, and afterwards we will have
a short stroll in the gardens. Perhaps this evening's post may bring us
a letter from our friends. Nurse is a capital chaperone, and I am glad
you did not go, dear grandpapa, it would have been quite too much for
you."
After this nothing could surpass the unbroken but rather gloomy quiet,
in which Kate's days slipped by; her piano having arrived, was a great
source of enjoyment to her, and lent wings to many a heavy hour.
Winter, though kind, was like most men, a tardy correspondent, and Kate
was ashamed of writing as often as her heart dictated. Lady Desmond,
too, engrossed by some new pleasure or occupation, wrote, though
affectionately, but seldom; and at times the sad feeling, that to the
friends who are afar, we are as nothing, scarcely missed, and merely
remembered, through the importunate efforts of our own pen, would
steal over Kate's mind in spite of every effort of reason and common
sense; for hers was a nature too noble, too unexacting, to doubt the
kindness or the truth of those who professed either. Yet it is hard,
very hard, not to become restless and complaining, when, day after
day, the letter carrier hurries past, or worse still, his startling,
though hoped for, knock, thrills every pulse, and there is nothing for
you. Oh, you who are still left in peace and security, amongst all that
has been endeared to you in childhood and in youth; amongst kindred and
familiar faces; and scenes of beauty associated with happiness, and
disregarded in the full certainty of possession; think well before you
charge the absent with querulous avidity for letters; you cannot know,
you cannot dream the intense longing with which we turn from the looks
and tones, the places and the people around us, and conjure up old
scenes and voices, long unheard; and then ask again, and again, with a
mournful tenderness, unspeakable in its depth, "Shall I never see them
more?" while a gloomy echo from our own unspoken presage answers, "they
are gone--they are all passed by;" ay, passed indeed, for what is gone
is eternally passed by. "Speak to them that they go forward," is the
message of God to mankind, as to the Israelites of old; forward we must
go, on--on, in sin or in righteousness; there is no pause, and what is
left is left for ever!
Kate felt an extraordinary longing to have the old hound, Cormac, with
her once more, and wrote on the subject to Mr. Winter. As usual, when
any positive question was to be answered, his reply was prompt.
"Cannot you leave the dog where he is?" wrote the testy little artist,
"I tell you he will be a troublesome customer; even here he is quite
savage, and we have to throw him his meat from a civil distance."
"Poor Cormac!" sighed Kate, who was reading the letter aloud to her
grandfather, "how unhappy he must be, when he is so cross; he will
become irretrievably savage if we do not remove him; may I write about
him, dear grandpapa, at once?"
"Oh, yes, my dear," said the Colonel.
"Besides," resuming the letter, "your lodgings are too dear already,
and Cormac will be an addition to them. I dare say you find your money
slipping away fast enough; I hope you remember you have a balance of
thirty pounds in my hands, after the sale of the furniture, so do not
think about Cormac at present. Poor Gilpin is very ill, and cannot last
long. What is Herman about? I think he is a humbug; and what's become
of Langley's sister, that was to have called on you. I remember her a
good humoured woman, that murdered the King's English, her husband is
very well off, she ought to have some girls to be taught."
The letter ended with a kind message from Mrs. Winter, who seldom
wrote, and left an uneasy unpleasant impression on Kate's mind.
"Well, I will write about Cormac, I so long to have him to walk with
me," she said, after a moment's thought. Beginning her letter with
excuses for so imprudent a proceeding, to her terrible mentor, she
continued--
"The complete disappearance of all the agents through whom I hoped to
achieve, such great things from the little stage of my life, is indeed
marvellous, and so dispiriting that I felt inclined to most unbecoming
impatience when I read your letter, in which you, as usual, set forth,
so forcibly, important points; but second thoughts are best _maestro
mio_. Let us give them the benefit of our doubts; both Miss Herman and
Mrs. Storey may be out of town, or unwell, or any thing you like, and
while it is better for my heart and spirits to fancy my _ci-devant_
music-master moving heaven and earth, though unsuccessful in my behalf,
than to imagine him playing me false, by culpable negligence, let me
think so; I must wait; so let the imagination I so often indulged, in
happier days, show her gratitude by lightening the interval of wretched
doubt. Is this right? If you think so, say it, for I am not, heaven
knows, so strong that I can dispense with the wholesome encouragement
of friendly approbation; and though there is great support in the
whisperings of an approving conscience, yet it is wonderfully
comforting to have its accents echoed by a voice one loves. By the
arrangements I have made here, Cormac's advent will add nothing to our
expenses, and I am sure his absence will be a relief to you."
Miss Vernon went to Euston Square, accompanied by Mrs. O'Toole, to meet
him, and the joy of the old hound, at sight of her, was quite touching.
"We are afraid to go near him, ma'am," said the porter, who led them to
where he was chained, "he's the fiercest dog we ever had charge on."
But Kate fearlessly went up to him, and unfastened his chain, while
he almost overpowered her by his uncouth caresses, to the dread of
the beholders. Then sitting close by her, his head stretched up that
he might look in her face, and only noticing Mrs. O'Toole, by an
occasional lick, he remained as docile as a lamb.
Kate and nurse walked gaily home with him, feeling they had gained the
addition of a friend to their society; indeed Cormac conducted himself
with so much discretion, that the smiling, because regularly paid,
landlady observed, he was, "a perfect hangel in disposition."
As if pleasures and pains were equally gregarious, Mr. Langley called
just as they were going to tea. He was livelier than usual, and
explained his own and his sister's apparent inattention, by informing
them that she had been obliged to take her little boy to the Isle of
Wight, for change of air; that he had accompanied them for the same
purpose, and had there met Miss Herman, who was on a visit to her
married sister. Thus were all Kate's doubts satisfactorily cleared up,
and the very lightness of heart which these few words of explanation
produced, proved to her how heavily their silence and apparent neglect
had preyed upon her spirits. It was no wonder therefore that Langley
felt surprised he had not before been struck by the brilliancy as well
as the sweetness of her face; she played, and sang for him too, for the
first time, and although he said little, was evidently charmed by a
degree of excellence he was in no wise prepared for.
He left them at an early hour (after an offer of books from his
collection), considerably cheered by his visit. He had been much more
agreeable than usual, indeed there was something in the noble manner
of Colonel Vernon, in the grace and piquancy of his grandchild, in
her perfect freedom from all idea of self; and spirited intelligent
assumption of her right to think _for_ herself--that attracted the
taciturn, though well informed, Langley, in no common degree. He had a
bad opinion of women in general--like many men, he divided them into
two classes, fools and knaves; and could not imagine the combination of
heart and intellect--yet Kate's original observations, surprised him
by their freshness, while it was impossible to look upon her sweet,
but noble countenance--and doubt that if ever the spirit of truth had
stamped its impress on a human soul, that soul was hers.