"INTO THE SHADOWS."
To avoid Mrs. Frederic Liddell's almost screaming curiosity was not
easy, and to appease it Kate assumed an air of frankness, saying that
she believed Mr. Liddell merely wished to test her powers as secretary,
and that she hoped she had not succeeded too well.
"Oh, you lazy thing! You really ought to try and get in with him.
Oughtn't she, Mrs. Liddell?"
"Yes, certainly, if she can; but I fancy it will not be so easy. What
are you going to do to-day, Ada?"
"Oh, nothing"--in a rather discontented tone. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I am obliged to go into town on a matter of business, and I
want to take Katherine."
"Well, I will look after the boys"--condescendingly, as if it were not
her legitimate business. "But I really think you worry too much about
those tiresome publishers. They would think more of you if you troubled
them less. Your mother looks pale and fagged, Katherine."
"Yes, she does indeed," looking anxiously at her.
"I am afraid the publishers would leave me too utterly undisturbed if I
left them alone," returned Mrs. Liddell, smiling, and leaving the
suggestion uncontradicted. This conversation took place at breakfast.
Mother and daughter made the journey cityward very silently, both a good
deal occupied conjecturing what conditions John Liddell could possibly
mean to impose. Perhaps only a very high rate of interest, which would
cost no small effort to spare from their narrow income.
Mr. Newton received his visitors directly their names were sent up to
him. His was an eminent firm; their offices, light, clean, well
furnished, an abode which impressed those who entered with the idea of
fair dealing, and forbade the notion of dark dusty corners moral or
physical.
Katherine's quick eyes took in the aspect of the place: the bookshelves,
where stores of legal learning in calf-bound volumes were ranged: the
various brown tin boxes with names in white paint suggestive of the
title-deeds "of all the land"; the big knee-hole table loaded with
papers; the heavy chairs upholstered in the best leather for the
patients who came to be treated; and Mr. Newton himself, more intensely
cleaned up and starched than ever, in an oaken seat of mediaeval form.
He rose and set chairs for Mrs. Liddell and her daughter himself; then
he rustled among his papers, and spoke down a tube.
"Ahem!" he began. "Your brother-in-law, madam, is a man of peculiar
character, but by no means without discrimination. Thank you"--to a
clerk who brought in a long folded paper and laid it beside him,
disappearing quickly. "By no means without discrimination," repeated Mr.
Newton. "Unfortunately the love of money grows on a childless man, and
his terms for the loan you require may not meet your approbation."
"Pray what are they?" asked Mrs. Liddell.
"My client will accept a bill of sale on your furniture as security, but
he will give you a period of eighteen months to repay him, and he will
charge ten per cent.; but if you agree to another condition, which I
will explain, he will be content with five per cent."
"This must be a severe condition," said Mrs. Liddell, with a slight
smile.
"No; it may prove a fortunate condition," said the lawyer, with some
hesitation. "In short, I have persuaded Mr. Liddell to allow me to
choose him a respectable servant at fair wages. The state into which he
has fallen is deplorable. I felt it my duty to remonstrate with him, and
he is not averse to my influence. I therefore pressed upon him the
necessity of having a better class of housekeeper, a person who could
read to him and write for him, and would be above drink and pilfering."
"What did he say to that?" asked Katherine, with a bright, amused look.
"He said, very decidedly: 'I will have that girl you say is my niece to
be my housekeeper and reader. She gave me the best and cheapest dinner I
ever ate; her letter to my stock-broker brought me luck; and I will pay
ready money for everything, so she shall not be able to leave books
unpaid. If she comes I will be content with five per cent, on the loan,
which must do instead of salary; and if she refuses, why, so do I.' An
ungracious speech, Mrs. Liddell, but there is the condition."
"Do you mean my brother-in-law will refuse to help me if my daughter
does not go to manage his house?"
"So he says."
"But did you not say at first that he would take ten per cent, without
this sacrifice?"
"_He_ said so at first; then this plan seemed to strike him, and he was
very firm about it."
"It is an awful place to go to." The words burst from Katherine's lips
before she could stop herself.
"I can hardly agree to such a condition as this," cried Mrs. Liddell.
"And I must urge you not to reject it," said Mr. Newton, impressively,
"for the sake of your daughter and grandsons. I must point out that by
refusing you not only deprive yourself of the temporary aid you
require, but you cut off your daughter from all chance of winning
over her uncle by the influence of her presence. Propinquity, my dear
madam--propinquity sometimes works wonders; and Mr. Liddell has a great
deal in his power. I would not encourage false hopes, but this is a
chance you may never have again--a chance of sharing her uncle's
fortune. If she refuses, he will never see her again."
Silence ensued. The choice was a grave difficulty. Mrs. Liddell looked
at Katherine, and Katherine looked at the carpet.
Suddenly Katherine looked up quickly, and said, in a clear, decided
voice: "I will go. I will undertake the office of secretary and
housekeeper--at least until my mother pays off this loan."
"Katie, my child, how shall you be able to bear it?"
"Miss Liddell has decided wisely and well," said the lawyer. "I
earnestly hope--nay, I believe--she will reap a rich reward for her
self-sacrifice."
"But, Mr. Newton, I cannot consent without some reflection. I too have
some conditions to impose."
"And they are?" put in Newton, uneasily.
"I cannot define them all clearly on the spur of the moment; but I must
have leave to go and see my daughter whenever I choose, and she must
have the right to spend one day in the week at home."
"This might be arranged," said the lawyer, thoughtfully. "Be brave, my
dear madam. Sacrifice something of the present to secure future good."
"Provided we do not pay too high a price for a doubtful benefit. It will
be terrible for a young girl to be the bond-slave of such a man as John
Liddell."
"Well, mother, I am quite willing to undertake the task. Not that I am
going to be a bond-slave, but as soon as you have paid your debt, I
shall consider myself free."
"By that time, my dear young lady, I hope you will have made yourself of
so much importance to your uncle that he will make it worth your while
to stay," exclaimed Newton, who was evidently actuated by a friendly
feeling toward both mother and daughter.
"He must bribe high, then," returned Kate, laughing.
"Then may I inform Mr. Liddell that you accept his proposition? and you
are prepared to begin your duties at once! Remember he considers his
acceptance of five instead of ten per cent, frees him from the necessity
of paying you any salary."
"Surely the laborer is worthy of his hire," said Mrs. Liddell.
"No doubt of it, madam; but the case is a peculiar one."
Some more particulars were discussed and arranged; Mr. Newton begged
Mrs. Liddell to look out for and select a servant, that Katherine might
begin with some prospect of comfort. It was settled that an interview
should be arranged between Mrs. Liddell and her brother-in-law on the
day but one following, at which Mr. Newton was to assist, Finally she
signed a paper, and received six lovely new crisp bank-notes, the magic
touch of which has so marvellously reviving an effect.
Katherine slipped her arm through her mother's and pressed it lovingly
as they walked to the Metropolitan station for their return journey.
"Now, dear, you will have a little peace," she said.
"Dear-bought peace, my darling. I cannot reconcile myself to such a fate
for you."
"Still, the money is a comfort."
"It is indeed. I will pay the rent to-day, and to-morrow I will give Ada
her money. That will be an infinite relief. And still I shall have a few
pounds left. Katie dear, is it not too dreadful, the prospect of eating,
drinking, sleeping, and beginning _di nuovo_ each morning in that gloomy
house? How shall you bear it?"
"You shall see. If I can have a little chat with you every week I shall
be able for a good deal. Then, remember, the book still remains. When
that succeeds we may snap our fingers at rich uncles."
"When that time comes," interrupted her mother, "you will be tied to the
poor old miser by habit and the subtle claims which pity and
comprehension weave round the sympathetic."
"Oh, if I ever grow to like him it will simplify matters very much. I
almost hope I may, but it is not likely. How strange it will be to live
in a different house from you! How dreadfully the boys will tease you
when I am away! Come; suppose we go and see the _Cheerful Visitor_--the
editor, I mean--before we return, and then we can say we _have_ been to
a publisher. I really do not think Ada knows the difference between an
editor and a publisher."
"Very likely; nor would you, probably, if you had not a mother who
scribbles weak fiction."
"It is a great deal better than much that is published and paid for,"
said Katherine, emphatically.
"Ah! Kate, when money has long been scarce you get into a bad habit of
estimating things merely at their market value. However, let us visit
the _Cheerful Visitor_ on our homeward way. Of course we must tell Ada
of the impending change, but we need not explain too much."
The journey back was less silent. Both mother and daughter were
oppressed by the task undertaken by the latter. But Katherine was
successful in concealing the dismay with which she contemplated a
residence with John Liddell. "Whatever happens, I must not seem afraid
of him or _be_ afraid of him," she thought, with instinctive perception.
"I will try to do what is just and right, and leave the rest to
Providence. It must be a great comfort to have faith--to believe that if
you do the right thing you will be directed and assisted by God. What
strength it would give! But I haven't faith. I cannot believe that
natural laws will ever be changed for me, and I _know_ that good,
honest, industrious creatures die of hunger every day. No matter. Do
rightly, come what may, is the motto of every true soul. I don't
suppose I shall melt this old man's stony heart, but I will do my best
for him. His has been a miserable life in spite of his money. There is
so much money cannot buy!"
"How dreadfully late you are!" said Mrs. Frederic, querulously, when
they reached home. "I really could not keep the children waiting for
you, so we have finished dinner; but Maria is keeping the mutton as hot
as she can for you. Dear me! how sick I am of roast mutton! but I
suppose it is cheap"--contemptuously.
"Poor dear! it shall have something nice to-morrow," returned Mrs.
Liddell, with her usual strong good temper.
"I suppose you are too tired, Katherine, to come with me. The band plays
in Kensington Gardens to-day, and I wanted so much to go and hear it."
"I am indeed! Besides, mother has a great deal to tell you when we have
had some dinner."
"Oh, indeed! Has your book been accepted, Mrs. Liddell? or has that
terrible uncle of ours declared Katherine to be his heiress?"
"Have a little patience, and you shall hear everything."
"I am dying of curiosity and impatience. Here, Sarah, _do_ bring up
dinner--Mrs. Liddell is so hungry!"
The announcement that Katherine was invited to live with John Liddell
created a tornado of amazement, envy, anticipation--with an undercurrent
of exultant pride that they were at last recognized by the only rich man
in the family--in the mind of the pretty, impressionable little widow.
"Gracious! What a grand thing for Kate! But she will be moped to death,
and he will starve her. Why, Katherine, when it is known that a
millionaire has adopted you his den will be besieged by your admirers.
You will never be able to stand such a life for long at a time. Suppose
I relieve guard every fortnight? You must let me have my innings too.
Old gentlemen always like me, I am so cheerful. Then I might have the
boys to see him; you know he ought to divide the property between us."
"Of course he ought. I wish he would have us alternately; it would be a
great relief," said Katherine, laughing.
"I fancy he is _im_-mensely rich," continued Ada. "Why, Mr. Errington
evidently knew his name."
"Who is Mr. Errington?" asked Mrs. Liddell, with languid curiosity.
"Did you never hear of the Calcutta Erringtons?" cried Ada, with
infinite superiority. "There are as rich as Jews, and one of the
greatest houses in India. Old Mr. Errington bought a fine place in the
country lately, and this young man--I'm sure I don't know if he _is_
young; he is as grave as a judge and as stiff as a poker--at all events
he is an only son. I met him at the Burnett's yesterday. Well, he seemed
to know Mr. Liddell's name quite well. Colonel Ormonde pricked up his
ears too when I said you had gone to see him. It is a great advantage to
have a rich old bachelor uncle, Katherine, but you must not keep him all
to yourself."
The next few days were agitated and much occupied. Katherine went for
part of each to read and write and market for the old recluse, and he
grew less formidable, but not more likable, as he became more familiar.
He was an extraordinary example of a human being converted into a
money-making and accumulating machine. He was not especially irritable;
indeed his physical powers were weak and dying of every species of
starvation; but his coldness was supernatural. Fortunately for
Katherine, his former housekeeper was greedy and extravagant, so that
his niece's management seemed wise and economical, and she had an
excellent backer-up in Mr. Newton.
The old miser was with difficulty persuaded to see his sister-in-law;
but Mrs. Liddell insisted on an interview, and Mr. Newton himself
supported her through the trying ordeal.
The mother's heart sank within her at she sight of the gloomy, desolate
abode in which her bright daughter was to be immured; but she comforted
herself by reflecting that it need not be for long.
Mr. Liddell did not rise from the easy-chair in which he sat crouched
together, his thin gray locks escaping as usual from under the
skull-cap, his long lean brown hands grasping the arms of his chair,
when Mrs. Liddell came in; neither did he hold out his hand. He looked
at her fixedly with his glittering dark eyes.
"You wanted to see me?" he said. "Why?"
"Because I thought it right to see and speak with you before committing
my only child to your keeping."
"But you have done it!--She has agreed to the conditions, has'nt she?"
turning to Newton. "If you go back, I must have my money back."
"Of course, my dear sir--of course," soothingly.
"I am glad that Katherine can be of use to you. I do not wish to retract
anything I have agreed to, but I wish to remind you that my child is
young; that you must let her go in and out, and have opportunities for
air and exercise."
"She may do as she likes; she can do anything. So long as she reads to
me, and buys my food without wasting my money, _I_ don't want her
company. She seems to know something of the value of money, and I'll
keep her in pledge till you have paid me. I'll never let myself be
cheated again, as I was by your worthless husband."
"Let the dead rest," said Mrs. Liddell, sadly. "I have paid you what I
could."
"Ay, the principal--the bare principal. What is that? Do men lend for
the love of lending?" he returned, viciously.
"Pray do not vex yourself. It is useless to look back--annoying and
useless," said the lawyer, with decision.
"Useless indeed! What more have you to say?"
"I should like to see the room my daughter is to occupy. It is as well
she should have the comforts necessary to health, for all our sakes.
_You_ will not find one who will serve you as Katherine can, even for a
high price. I think you feel this yourself," said Mrs. Liddell,
steadily.
"You may go where you like, but do not trouble me. You can come and see
your daughter, but _I_ shall not want to see you; and she may go and see
you of a Sunday, when there are no newspapers to be read; but, mark you
I will not pay for carriages or horses or omnibuses; and mark also that
I have made my will, and I'll not alter it in any one's favor. Your
daughter will have her food and lodging and my countenance and
protection."
"She has done without these for nineteen years," said Mrs. Liddell, with
a slight smile. "But you have given me very opportune help, for which I
am grateful; so I have accepted your terms. Kate shall stay with you
till I have paid you principal and interest, and then _I_ warn you I
shall reclaim my hostage."
"She'll be a good while with me," he said, with a sneer. "None of
you--you, your husband, or your son--ever had thirty pounds to spare in
your lives."
"Time will show," returned Mrs. Liddell, with admirable steadiness and
temper. "Now I will bid you good-day, and take advantage of your
permission to look over your house."
"Let me show you the way," said Newton. "I shall return to you
presently, Mr. Liddell."
The old man bent his head. "See that the girl comes to-morrow," he said,
and leaned back wearily in his chair.
The friendly lawyer led the way upstairs, and showed Mrs. Liddell a
large room, half bed, half sitting, with plenty of heavy old-fashioned
furniture. "This was, I think, the drawing-room," said Mr. Newton; "and
having extracted permission from my very peculiar client to have the
house cleaned, so far as it could be done, which it sorely needed, the
person I employed selected the best of the furniture for this room. We
propose to give the next room at the back to the servant. You have, I
believe, found one?"
"Yes, a respectable elderly woman, of whom I have had an excellent
character."
After Mrs. Liddell had visited the rooms upstairs--mere dismantled
receptacles of rubbish--and they returned to what was to be Katherine's
abode, she sat down on the ponderous sofa, and in spite of her efforts
to control herself the tears would well up and roll over.
"I feel quite ashamed of myself," said she, in a broken voice; "but when
I think of my Katie, here alone, with that cruel old man, it is too much
for my strength. She has been so tenderly reared, her life, though quiet
and humble, has been so cared for, so tranquil, that I shrink from the
idea of her banishment here."
"It is not unnatural, my dear madam, but indeed the trial is worth
enduring. Do not believe that the will of which Mr. Liddell speaks is
irrevocable. He has made two or three to my certain knowledge, and it
would be foolish to cut your daughter off from, any chance of sharing
his fortune, which is considerable, I assure you, merely to avoid a
little present annoyance."
"It would indeed. Do not think me very weak. It is a passing fit of the
dolefuls. I have had much anxiety of late, and for the moment I have a
painful feeling that I have sold myself and my dear daughter into the
hands of a relentless creditor; that I shall never free my neck from his
yoke. I shall probably feel differently to-morrow."
"I dare say you will. You are a lady of much imagination; a writer, your
daughter tells me. Such an occupation should be an outlet for all
imaginative terrors or anticipations, and leave your mind, your
judgment, clear and free. I am sure Miss Liddell will do her uncle and
herself good by her residence here. Mr. Liddell has been a source of
anxiety to me and to my partners. We have, you know, been his legal
advisers for years, and to know that he is in good hands will be a great
relief. Rely on my--on our doing our best to assist your daughter in
every way."
Mrs. Liddell, perceiving the friendly spirit which actuated the precise
lawyer, thanked him warmly, and after a little further discussion of
details, took her way home.
From the step she had voluntarily taken there was no retreat, nor, to do
her justice, was Katherine Liddell in the least disposed to turn back,
having once put her hand to the plough. Indeed the blessed
castle-building powers of youth disposed her to rear airy edifices as
regarded the future, which lightened the present gloom. Suppose John
Liddell were to soften toward her, and make her a handsome present
occasionally, or forgive this debt to her mother? What a delightful
reward this would be for her temporary servitude! But though Katherine
really amused herself with such fancies, they never crystallized into
hope. Hope still played round her mother's chance of success with the
publishers. Not that she fancied her dear mother a genius; on the
contrary, because she _was_ her mother, she probably undervalued her
work; but she knew that hundreds of stories printed and paid for lacked
the common-sense and humor of Mrs. Liddell's.
How ardently she longed to give her mother something of a rest after the
burden and heat of the day, which she had borne so well and so long--a
spell of peaceful twilight before the gray shadows of everlasting
darkness closed, or the brightness of eternal light broke upon her! Yes,
she would stand four-square against the steely terrors of John Liddell's
cold egotism and penuriousness, against the desolation and gloom of his
forbidding abode, the crushing sordidness of an existence reduced to the
merest straws of sustenance, provided she could lighten her mother's
load--perhaps secure her future ease; and she would do her task well,
thoroughly, keeping a steady heart and a bright face. Then, should the
tide ever turn, what deep draughts of pleasure she would drink!
Katherine was not socially ambitious; finery and grandeur as such did
not attract her; but real joys, beauty and gayety, the company of
pleasant people, _i.e._ people who suited _her_, graceful surroundings,
becoming clothes, and plenty of them, all were dear and delightful to
her.
Some of these things she had tasted when she lived with her mother in
the German and Italian towns where she had been chiefly educated; the
rest she was satisfied to imagine. Above all, she loved to charm those
with whom she associated--loved it in a half-unconscious way. Were it to
a poor blind beggar woman, or a little crossing sweeper, she would speak
as gently and modulate her voice as carefully as to the most brilliant
partner or the greatest lady. This might be tenderness of nature, or the
profound instinct to win liking and admiration. As yet it was quite
instinctive; but if hurt or offended she could feel resentment very
vividly, and was by no means too ready to forgive.
Unfortunately she started with a strong prejudice against her uncle, and
sometimes rehearsed in her own mind exceedingly fine speeches which she
would have liked to address to her miserly relative on the subject of
his cruelty to his son, his avarice, his egotism.
Still a strain of pity ran through her meditations. Was life worth
living, spent as his was? How far had his nature been warped by his
wife's desertion?
It was an extraordinary experience to Katherine, this packing up of her
belongings to quit her home. She took as little as she could help, to
keep up the idea that she was entering on a very temporary engagement;
besides, as she meant to adhere rigidly to her right of a weekly visit
to her mother, she could always get what she wanted.
After Mrs. Liddell, Katherine found it hardest to part with the boys,
specially little Charlie, whose guardian and champion she had
constituted herself. Her sister-in-law had rather an irritating effect
upon her, of which she was a little ashamed, and whenever she had spoken
sharply, which she did occasionally, she was ready to atone for it by
doing some extra service, so that, on the whole, the pretty little widow
got a good deal more out of her sister than out of her mother-in-law.
But meditations, resolutions, regrets, and preparations notwithstanding,
the day of Katherine's departure arrived. It was a bright, glowing
afternoon, and the Thursday fixed for the boating party. Mrs. Liddell
junior had expended much eloquence to no purpose, as she well knew it
would be, in trying to persuade her sister-in-law to postpone the
commencement of what the little widow was pleased to call her "penal
servitude," and accompany her to Twickenham.
She departed, however, without her, looking her very best, and uttering
many promises to come and see Katie soon, to try her powers of pleasing
on that dreadful old uncle of ours, to bring the dear boys, and see if
they would not cut out their aunty, etc.
Mrs. Liddell and her daughter were most thankful to have the last few
hours together, and yet they said little, and that chiefly respecting
past days which they had enjoyed together--little excursions on the Elbe
or in the neighborhood of Florence; a couple of months once passed at
Siena, which was a mental epoch to Katherine, who was then about
fifteen; promises to write; and tender queries on the mother's side if
she had remembered this or that.
The little boys clung to her, Charlie in tears, Cecil very solemn. Both
had taken up the sort of camera-obscura image of their elders' views
which children contrive to obtain so mysteriously without hearing
anything distinct concerning them, and both considered "Uncle John" a
sort of modern ogre, only restrained by the policeman outside from
making a daily meal of the nearest infant school, and sure to gobble up
aunty some day. Charlie trembled at the thought; Cecil pondered
profoundly how, by the judicious arrangement of a trap-door in the
middle of his room, he might carry out the original idea of Jack the
Giant-Killer.
"Pray don't think of coming with me, mother," said Katherine, seeing
Mrs. Liddell take out her bonnet. "I could not bear to think of your
lonely drive back. Trust me to myself. I am not going to be either
frightened or cast down, and I will write to-morrow."
"Then I must let you go, darling! On Sunday next, Katie, we shall see
you."
A long, fond embrace, and Mrs. Liddell was indeed alone.