REVELATIONS.
Not many days elapsed before the cards of the Honourable Mrs. J. E.
Meredyth, and the Misses Meredyth were laid on Lady Desmond's table;
but it was some time before Kate saw them; for, feeling totally unequal
to the society of strangers, she declined accompanying her cousin to
return their visit, or to an evening party, which quickly followed the
first interchange of formalities.
She regretted, while she was too just to blame, her cousin's rapid
oblivion of the sad scene so deeply engraven on her own memory,
though she steadily endeavoured to cultivate a cheerful resignation,
and sometimes was grateful for any interruption that drew her from
the oppressive sadness and sense of loneliness, that often weighed
on her spirits. Grief is something so repugnant to the young, that
they involuntarily endeavour to throw it off. The morning sun gilds
all things with its life-giving, beautifying light, it is only the
lengthening shadows of evening to which tender sadness and lingering
regret seem natural.
And Kate's true-hearted efforts to submit unmurmuringly to her bitter
loss, were seconded by her happy age; and again peace, like a dove,
still fluttering its wings before settling in its nest, was slowly and
surely returning to her.
Lord Effingham's visits were not quite so frequent as before Lady
Desmond's illness; but they were more agreeable to Kate; his manner
was more real; he noticed her more--with the air of an elder relative,
'tis true--yet with a quiet, unremitting attention, obvious enough to
herself, though scarcely noticeable, save to a very keen observer.
The terms on which he had placed himself with Lady Desmond rather
puzzled her; he devoted much of his time to her, was evidently an
admirer of her beauty and agreeability; yet Kate could not help
thinking there was more of the old friend, of the _habitué_ of the
house, than the lover, in his tone and manner. Lady Desmond seemed, on
the whole, happy enough, and met the warm advances of Mrs. Meredyth
very cordially.
"How do you like your new acquaintance?" asked Kate, the morning after
Mrs. Meredyth's _soirée_.
"Oh, well enough; they are abundantly civil; but not at all the sort of
people you would fancy Lord Effingham's relatives to be. Madame Mere
is fat and fair, and wonderfully preserved; she looks like his aunt,
not grand-aunt; she is grave and quiet; the daughters are _very_ young
ladies, of about thirty, I should think; they are scarcely good style;
and I thought they would positively devour Colonel Dashwood and a Mr.
Burton, and some other dragoons, who embellished the entertainment."
"Burton!" repeated Kate; "I remember--"
"And so does he," interrupted Lady Desmond; "Colonel Dashwood
introduced him to me, and asked permission to bring him here to-day;
he enquired for you very particularly, and said he had heard a great
deal of you from a Captain or Colonel Egerton, a great ally of yours, I
suspect."
Kate sighed.
"Was Lord Effingham there?"
"Yes, rather to my astonishment; he seemed horridly bored, I could
see that; for the species of worship offered to him, both by aunt and
cousins, is exactly the sort of thing to disgust him."
"If the Miss Meredyths are constantly engaged in devouring dragoons,
and worshipping Lord Effingham, they must be busy indeed," said Kate.
"From what I could gather, Lord Effingham's presence was rather an
unusual favour; however, we are to be great friends; I must have
them to dine here some day, or to a strawberry and cream supper, or
something of that sort; only I am afraid you do not feel up to it, dear
Kate; but if you do not mind--"
"Oh, pray do not think of me, Georgy, I am always glad to see you
amused; I can steal away if I find myself unequal to be agreeable--or--"
"No, no," interrupted Lady Desmond, in her turn. "Dear love, you shall
not be teased, only I think it would do you good."
And Kate saw the point was decided against her.
"I wish very much, Georgy, you would allow me to invite Mrs. Storey to
spend a day here; I ought to go and see her; but I feel I cannot go
there yet; if you have no engagement next week."
"Oh, ask her, by all means; she was very civil, I remember; stay, I
will write the note; you can enclose it; and, while we are about it,
let us ask the husband; he is something terrific, is he not?"
"Yes, indeed, he is."
"Do not look so grave about it," said Lady Desmond, laughing; "let us
go to the drawing-room--my desk is there."
As Kate usually chose those hours, when the gardens were free from
the band and mob to wander there, she did not meet Lady Desmond's new
friends until the evening of her _soirée_, which was a very agreeable
little impromptu meeting--the guests verbally invited in the morning
of the same day, when the band had assembled the few inhabitants of
Hampton Court in one focus. Yet Kate shrank from this unwonted gaiety
as from a desecration.
Nurse strove to cheer her up.
"Sure, it'll do ye good, jewil, an' plaise mee lady, so come now,
smile, for yer poor ould nurse."
The Meredyths arrived rather late; and Miss Vernon was obliged to
remain near Lady Desmond until introduced to them, before she retreated
to the small drawing-room, away from the noise and excitement of the
bagatelle board, round which Lady Elizabeth Macdonnell and some young
ladies, who came under her chaperonage, were gathered, all eagerly
exercising their skill against divers and sundry dragoons, contributed
by Colonel Dashwood, at Lady Desmond's request, to assist her in
entertaining her guests.
Mrs. and the Miss Meredyths were rather over dressed for so small a
party. Their noisy entry, and loud laughter, repelled Kate, though she
endeavoured to second her cousin's evident wish that she should know
them better; so suppressing her inclination to retreat, she listened
patiently to the reiterated assurances of their desire to make her
acquaintance.
But Kate's calm, gentle manner, and polite replies, proved faint
counter-attractions to the invitations from the bagatelle party; and
the high-spirited Miss Meredyths were soon immersed in all the interest
of that scientific game.
Kate, at Lady Desmond's request, led Mrs. Meredyth into the inner
drawing-room, to show her some beautiful water-color drawings, of
scenes in the Appenines, which Lady Desmond had purchased at Florence.
They had the room to themselves, and Kate soon perceived that it a was
very interesting work to her companion, who never failed to ask some
well put, leading query during the replacing of each drawing, as to
the duration of her nephew's acquaintance with Lady Desmond, or her
connections, estates, &c., at which Kate, unworldly as she was, could
not avoid smiling.
It was with evident relief that she heard Lady Desmond enter, saying--
"If you will accept me as a partner, _faute de mieux_, my dear Mrs.
Meredyth, Lady Elizabeth will manage to have her rubber; I expected Dr.
----, the veteran physician before alluded to; but if you will bear
with my errors till he comes--"
"You are very good, Lady Desmond; only it is too bad to ask you to play
whist at your age."
And Mrs. Meredyth rose gladly. Kate stayed to look over some of the
drawings that remained, and to replace them in their portfolio, wishing
she could escape from a collection of strangers, all of whom were
uninteresting to her.
Burton had not yet made his appearance, and she hoped to have some
conversation with him; for the morning he had called, she was out. So
she stood gazing at a drawing, resting her arm on the top of a _prie
dieu_ chair, and thinking of Fred Egerton, when Lord Effingham said,
gently, and close to her--
"I thought I should find you here."
She started slightly, but turned to him with a smile, for, seeing how
much her cousin's feelings were interested in his behalf, she was,
as she had told him, anxious to know him better; and, her mind fully
occupied with the impression of his admiration of Lady Desmond, the
possibility of his ever bestowing a thought upon herself, save as a
friend and relative of hers, never crossed it. She was, therefore,
rather glad to have a little _tete-à-tete causerie_ with him.
"I have been showing these drawings to Mrs. Meredyth, but she has gone
to play whist with Georgy, who detests cards. We must endeavour to
rescue her."
"Not yet, if you please, Miss Vernon," returned Lord Effingham, looking
fixedly at her, "I so seldom have an opportunity of saying a word
to you, uninterrupted by some one or other, that you must forgive me
if I rush abruptly into the apology I have been so anxious to make
for the last fortnight. The day in the Palace Garden," he continued,
rapidly--"when you scornfully informed me that you disdained any
friendship with so forward and ill-bred a fellow as myself--I reminded
you of that dog. It was in total ignorance of----. But I see I am only
paining you. Lady Desmond told me, and I have been burning to assure
you of my deep regret. I trust you will believe my assurance that no
irritation would ever have tempted me, knowingly, to revive any memory
distressing to you."
He uttered these with an earnest softness that surprised Miss Vernon,
so complete was the transformation it created in his look and manner.
"I never accused you, even in thought, of such cruelty," she returned,
anxious to relieve his evident anxiety, "so say no more about it, I
entreat."
"But the gesture of repugnance, with which you turned from me, I cannot
forget it."
"Did I," said Kate, blushing at the idea of having wounded the feelings
of any one; "I was unaware, but, if you reflect for a moment, you will
acknowledge it was natural, just then, you know I felt sick at heart."
Lord Effingham's dark cheek flushed for an instant, he bit his lips.
"Yet you say you forgive me."
"And I do," she returned, "I could not resent an unintentional offence."
He smiled, a very different smile from those that usually darkened
rather than illuminated his countenance, and Kate, thought, "perhaps
that might have been the expression of it in childhood."
He held out his thin, nervous, resolute looking hand, with a look of
entreaty and an expressive--
"Then if----."
Kate, who had not an atom of prudery, and was anxious to make up for
the gesture of repugnance, he had so forcibly described, put her own
frankly into it; he raised it for a moment, to his lips, and said,
lightly, half in jest, half earnest--
"And on this hand I renounce my evil ways."
She withdrew her hand quickly, but before she could make any reply,
Lord Effingham said--
"Let us look at these exquisite views; Lady Desmond, the Wentworths,
and myself, made many expeditions among the Appenines. Where were you
then, Miss Vernon?"
He asked this in a tone as if he remembered, with amazement, having
enjoyed any thing where she was not; but Kate did not notice it, for,
transported back to former scenes, by his question, she answered, with
a sigh--
"Ah, I was then very happy!"
Lord Effingham looked up at her, and as her eyes were bent down,
quite regardless of him, he permitted a slight smile to mingle in the
admiring glance that rested on her.
"Have you seen Lady Desmond?" she enquired, raising her eyes to his
with a vague sort of notion that she ought not to remain there in
that quiet room, with its books and pictures, _tête-à-tête_, with her
cousin's lover.
"No, I came here to ask you where she was, _remember_!"
"Why, am I to remember? do you wish me to tell her?"
"As you like," said Lord Effingham, carelessly, and turning to the
drawings, began to speak of their merits, and of the artist who took
the views, in a clear, simple, forcible manner which interested
Miss Vernon greatly. She had always felt that her companion was
possessed of talent, though his indolence seldom permitted him to
display it in conversation; and she now listened with pleasure to his
unwonted agreeability. Lady Desmond was frequently the subject of
his comments, which were always flattering, but expressed with an air
of calm, deliberate approbation, equally unlike his usually sneering
indifference, or a lover's warmth; yet his memory appeared to be
wonderfully distinct as to her doings; in one place, she had ordered
her picture from a distressed artist, and retrieved his fortunes by her
liberal payment and patronage.
"It was in Italy, you know, where the necessaries of life are not
worth double their weight in gold," added Lord Effingham. Or it was
her courage and self-possession in a thunder-storm, or her taste in
an _al-fresco_ entertainment; but though thus constantly referred to,
there was an occasional glimpse shown of her pride, her imperiousness,
or her impatience, never condemned, but hinted at more by a tone, a
glance, a smile than by words.
Kate listened intently, fancying she had got the clue to his strange
indecision as regarded her cousin, and gradually determining that he
only hesitated to declare the love, she was sure he felt, because he
feared that the existence of such qualities were not calculated to make
a home happy.
"He does not know her noble nature or her value, and she always appears
to greater disadvantage with him than with any one else. Perhaps I may
be able to clear this up," she thought. "And, after all, he may be
a better man than I imagined," so she listened, resting her clasped
hands on the top of the chair by which she stood, her head inclined
gently to one side, a slight pleased smile curving her lip, and
showing the pearly teeth, while he, compelling himself to speak of the
drawing he held, instead of indulging his natural indolence in silent
contemplation of the sweet face before him, his back to the door, was
first conscious that their solitude was broken in upon by her change of
countenance and position. He turned just as Colonel Dashwood, entering
said--
"I have been looking for you, Miss Vernon, to present Mr. Burton,"
waving his hand to that gentleman who accompanied him, inwardly
consigning his Colonel to the inferno of busy bodies, for having so
pertinaciously sought Miss Vernon, and interrupted a second interesting
_tête-à-tête_.
Miss Vernon's cordial and unembarrassed manner set him at ease,
however, and Lord Effingham, in an unusually amiable mood, exerted
himself to cultivate Dashwood, so the _partie quarré_ progressed into a
sociable exchange of trivialities, when their number was encreased by
the approach of Lady Desmond, who entered with a look of restlessness,
Kate knew well how to interpret.
"Some one said you had arrived, Lord Effingham," she said.
"I could not see you in the next room, and came here to look for you,"
he replied, smiling. "But the awful intelligence that you were playing
whist with my aunt rendered me incapable of further exertion. Is that
sacrifice accomplished?"
"Yes, I have done my duty."
"And I have been living over some very pleasant days again," he
returned, glancing at the drawings, "and prosing to Miss Vernon on the
same subject; but I must pay my respects to Mrs. Meredyth," and he
offered his arm to Lady Desmond.
Miss Vernon continued to converse a little longer with Colonel Dashwood
and Mr. Burton; but neither mentioned Fred Egerton, till Kate,
apprehending she might be asked to contribute towards the music, now
superseding the bagatelle, complained of fatigue, and wished them "good
night."
"I am glad I shall be able to tell my friend Fred Egerton I met you,
Miss Vernon," said Burton, "I kept my letter open for the purpose, as
he always asks me for some intelligence of his old friends, though I
do not think he seems inclined to return to them."
"Quite right," said Colonel Dashwood, "he has made an excellent start
in India; good night, Miss Vernon; I will tell Lady Desmond you have
beat a retreat."
"Good night," and soon after the party broke up.
Lord Effingham drove home by moonlight; but his thoughts were too
darkly chaotic for us to fathom.
The Miss Meredyths, in council over their "_toilettes de nuit_,"
decided that whether "Eff" married Lady Desmond or not, it was well
worth their while to cultivate her acquaintance, and Burton, throwing
off his uniform, and drawing his writing-table to an open window,
proceeded to add a P.S. to his letter.
"I have just returned from a tranquil little Arcadian evening party
at Lady Desmond's, where I was introduced to your old acquaintance,
Miss Vernon, and I am half inclined to forgive you all the nonsense
you used to talk about her; though she looks pale and pensive, I think
she is still more lovely than she was at that ball, where we saw her,
two years ago. I fancy I can account for the present quietism and
irreproachable life of the rather notorious Lord Effingham. He came
in for old St. L's beautiful villa near Richmond, some time ago, and
is nominally living there; but, in reality, is here every day, and
all day, and the gossips are puzzled; because if Lady Desmond is the
attraction, they could have married any time these two years; but,
from what I have seen, I am certain it is your friend Miss Vernon who
will be Countess of Effingham. In short, I am pretty sure they are
engaged; I hope he may make a tolerable husband, for she deserves well
I am certain. This is my latest intelligence--so, good night, old
fellow, and do not keep me six months waiting for a reply to this."
Kate was sitting, near the window, in her room, waiting until the
household had sunk into silence before she laid down to sleep, when the
door was softly opened by Lady Desmond, who entered, saying--
"Are you awake? Oh! you have not gone to bed."
"Dear Georgy!" exclaimed Miss Vernon, rising to meet her, "I hope you
did not think me rude for running away so selfishly, but--"
"Not a word more," interrupted her cousin, passing her arm caressingly
round her, "you were right to do as you felt inclined--indeed I fear I
was inconsiderate in asking you to join us, nor was there anything very
attractive in our guests."
There was a pause for some moments; and then, Lady Desmond, drawing
Kate closer to the window, asked--
"Are you sleepy, love?"
"No, dear Georgy, not in the least."
"Then I will resume my revelations. I have not felt in the mood to do
so before, and you were wise and kind not to urge me."
"Go on then, dearest," said Kate, "I long to hear your story."
"When first I met Lord Effingham at Naples," began Lady Desmond,
withdrawing her arm from Kate, and resting the other against the
window-frame, "I had been rather bored by the perpetual gossip about
him always floating in the society there, and, at the same time, I was
intensely fatigued by the utter absence of anything like interest in
the world at large. I had no particular object--I was so perfectly my
own mistress--I had not even the excitement of imagining what I would
do if I could, for I had the power of accomplishing every rational
wish. I was wearied of the excessive attentions and admiration of a
dozen needy adorers, and, in short, _ennuye'd_. In this happy and
commendable frame of mind, I dragged myself listlessly to a birthday
dinner at the English Ambassador's; and accident placed me next a
gentleman, so quietly _distingué_, that nine out of ten observers,
would not have noticed him; my attention was attracted by his being a
stranger in a circle where each was known to each, and I was rather
surprised when Lady W---- introduced him to me as Lord Effingham.
He handed me down to dinner; but if I give you all these frivolous
particulars, I shall not come to the end of my story until morning.
There was an indescribable fascination for me in his manner. You must
have observed the sense of power it conveys--the impression that there
is something ever to be revealed, which you can never fathom, while
he reads all your thoughts; the constant air of cool indifference you
have seen; but the occasional softness, so exquisite in its flattering
suggestions, you have not. Ah, Kate, I little thought as I drove
home that night, feeling life had still something left to wish for,
something still to excite, that the time would come when I as ardently
desired to have that passage wiped away from my existence.
"I met Lord Effingham in society frequently, and he was the only man,
amongst those of our circle, who did not enter himself as an aspirant
for my smiles--to use the wretched _jargon_ of those idlers--I will
not say this piqued me. Pique is too weak, too French a term, to
express the scorn of myself, with which his neglect filled me; he
only considered me a fitting object of admiration for the vulgar
mob. Yet there was a sympathy between us, that, though we seldom
spoke, linked us strangely. Gradually--I cannot tell how it was--we
became more intimate, and my very soul was absorbed in the intense
longing to make him feel that I was not powerless. At length, I saw
I was admired--I read it in his eyes a thousand times, and no longer
unoccupied and listless, every faculty at its fullest stretch, both
to feel and to conceal what I felt; for I dreaded either the world,
or Lord Effingham, obtaining even the slightest clue to the state of
my mind; then, Kate, then, for the first time, I tasted all the wild
excitement--all the concentrated vitality of which life is capable."
Lady Desmond's eyes dilated, and Kate felt her own veins thrill with
the contagious passion that inspired her cousin's words.
"Still," resumed Lady Desmond, "I was unconscious that, in my
efforts to rivet chains on so untamable a captive, I had only twined
them closely round myself. This did not last long; his excessive
variability opened my eyes; though the tenderest accents had breathed
the well-adapted line from my favorite poet in tones that rendered its
application unmistakeable, though the interruption of our slightest
conversation was avoided as unendurable in the evening, the next
morning would find him so utterly cold, indifferent, almost forgetful,
that I shrunk from the power so remorselessly displayed, and fled.
"Whether the novelty of my seeming indifference--for so far, I acted
bravely, Kate--was not yet '_fletri_,' or whether he was sick of
Naples, I do not know, but he followed me to Florence, and told me,
with the calm gravity of seeming truth, that Naples was insupportable
without me. I believed him--nay, I think he spoke what he then felt.
I was again lapped in Elysium; he was less variable--I did not care
to think of the future, I was no longer strong enough to preserve the
guard I had hitherto kept. His haughty iron-spirit mastered mine--he
saw it, and left Florence for England.
"I will not dwell on that miserable year--I cannot--for I only remember
a dark chaos of black misery and despair--an eternal effort to seem
what I was not. All this is incomprehensible to you, Kate--may it ever
be so. I despise myself; at this moment I hate Lord Effingham; but yet
I would give every hope here, almost every hope hereafter, to see him
at my feet--to hear him say, 'I love you,'--this wild longing to touch
his heart; the conviction that no effort of mine can do so; the glimpse
of his love; the long cold night of his indifference; and, worse than
all, the irritating sense of slavery to his will, is death to me. Yet
I have striven against it; I vowed I would not return to England while
it contained him, and you know how I kept my vow--aye, in despite of
duty. And when I did come, I believed he was in Paris. And must I live
through all this again? Why does he seek me to torture me? I scarcely
gave him the civil encouragement to call on me, required by the usages
of society. And yet, I fear, he sees too well how vainly I struggle
against his influence.
"His questions to you, when I endeavored to gain a few days' quiet
reflection, uninterrupted by his disturbing presence, they were
strange, yet they showed interest. Oh, Kate, Kate, can you read this
riddle for me? my experience is all at fault; what say the instincts
of your fresh heart?"
"He loves you," cried Kate, much moved by her cousin's recital; and she
spoke her true conviction, "he must love you, and we do not know what
motives he may have. Yet, I fear he must be selfish, and cold-hearted,
to think so little of your feelings. Oh, dear Georgy, try not to love
him; how can you love where you do not trust? pray to God to help you,
and make up your mind to endure a little present pain, in the hope of
future peace; let us leave this place, and go away from him--he has no
right to make you wretched--let us go."
"No--impossible," said Lady Desmond, faintly, as if wearied by her own
emotions. "Never was the spell so strong on me as now. I cannot--nay
more, Kate, I _will_ not break it; do not look so sadly, so shocked.
I will be reasonable; you said just now we could not know his
motives--fate seems to have thrown us together again--for God knows I
came down here to get out of London, lest he might suddenly re-appear,
to make me writhe under the consciousness of my thraldom. Let us see
what another month may disclose. I feel that, before long, all doubt
will be at an end, though now, at times, I think he loves me."
"Yes, he loves you--he must," cried Kate, gazing on Lady Desmond's
beautiful face, as, glowing with the animation her reminiscences had
called up, "but he loves himself better."
"Then I am free," returned her cousin, "he is too grand a creature to
be selfish--no there is none like him. Whatever his faults may be, they
are not petty--he can love. We will remain here another month. What do
you advise?"
"Whatever I advise, dear Georgy, you will stay; and perhaps it is
better to give Lord Effingham a fair trial, though he might follow us;
at all events, you do not quite disapprove my counsel, I would fain
have you go."
"Do not ask me, I cannot; but is not that two o'clock--to bed--to bed,
Kate, how could I have kept you up so late. Good night."
"God bless you, and give you peace, dear Georgy--good night."