HANDLING THE RIBBONS.
De Burgh was told off to take Katherine in to dinner that day and the
next, and bestowed a good deal of his attention on her during the
evening. He rather amused her, for he was a new type to her. The men she
had met during her sojourn on the Continent were chiefly polished French
and Italians, whose softness and respectful manner to women were perhaps
exaggerated, and a sprinkling of diplomatic and dilettante Englishmen.
De Burgh's style was curiously--almost roughly--frank, yet there was an
unmistakable air of distinction about him. He seemed not to think it
worth while to take trouble about anything, yet he could talk well when
by chance a topic interested him, Katherine would have been very dull
had she not perceived that he was attracted by her. She was by no means
so exalted a character as to be indifferent to his tribute; nevertheless
she was half afraid of the cynical, outspoken, high-born Bohemian, who
seemed to have small respect for people or opinions. She showed little
of this feeling, however, having held her own with spirit in their
various arguments, as, it need scarcely be said, they rarely agreed.
"What is this mysterious piece of work I see constantly in your hands?"
asked De Burgh, taking his place beside Katherine when the men came in
after dinner a few days after his arrival.
"It is a black silk stocking for Cecil."
"One of the nephews, eh? So you are capable of knitting! It must be a
dreary occupation."
"No; it becomes mechanical, and it is better than sitting with folded
hands."
"I am not sure it is. I have great faith in natures that can take
complete rest--men who can do nothing, absolutely nothing--and so create
a reserve fund of fresh energy for the next hour of need. There is no
strength in fidgety feverishness."
"There is not much feverishness in knitting," returned Katherine,
beginning a new row.
"There is very little feverishness about _you_, yet you are not placid.
I am extending and verifying my original estimate of your character, you
see."
"A most interesting occupation," said Katherine, carelessly.
"_Yes_, most interesting. I wish I had more frequent opportunities of
studying it; but one never sees you all day. Where do you hide
yourself?"
"I take long rambles with the children, and--" She paused.
"Does it amuse you to play nurse-maid?"
"Yes, at present. Then my nephews and I were playfellows long ago."
"I imagine it is a taste that will not last."
"Perhaps not."
"Miss Brereton and Lady Alice, with Errington and myself, are going to
ride over to Melford Abbey to-morrow. You will, I hope, be of the
party?"
"Thank you. I do not ride."
"It is rather refreshing to meet a young lady who is not horsy, but it
is a loss to yourself not to ride."
"I dare say it is. Yet what one has never known cannot be a loss. I am
sorry I was not accustomed to ride in my youth."
"It is not too late to learn, remote as that period must be," said De
Burgh, smiling. "You are in the headquarters of horsemen and horsewomen
at present. Appoint me your riding-master, and in a couple of months I
shall be proud of my pupil."
"I am not particularly brave," she returned, "and the experiment would
produce more pain than pleasure."
"Pain! nothing of the kind. I have a capital lady's horse, steady as a
rock, splendid pacer, temper of an angel. He is quite at your service.
Let me telegraph for him, and begin your lessons the day after
to-morrow." De Burgh raised himself from his lounging position, and
leaned forward to urge his pleading more earnestly. "Let me persuade
you. You will thank me hereafter."
"Thank you," said Katherine, shaking her head. "It is too late. I shall
never learn how to ride, but I should like to know how to drive."
"There I can be of use to you too. You will want an instructor. Pray
take me!"
The last words, spoken a little louder than the rest, caught Mrs.
Ormonde's ear as she was crossing the room, and she paused beside her
sister-in-law to ask, "Take him for what?--for better or worse,
Katherine?"
"Blundering little idiot!" thought De Burgh; while Katherine answered,
with remarkable composure.
"Nothing so formidable; only to be my instructor in the art of driving."
"Well, and do you accept?"
"Yes; I shall be very pleased to learn. I should like to be able to
'conduct' a pair of ponies, as the French would say."
"Ah yes! and cut a dash in the Park," said Mrs. Ormonde, taking the seat
De Burgh reluctantly vacated for her. "I don't see why she should not,
Mr. De Burgh; do you?"
"Certainly not, provided only Miss Liddell can handle the ribbons."
"Very well, Katherine: you devote yourself to acquire the art here, and
then join us in a house in town this spring. I was reading the
advertisements in the _Times_ to-day. I always look at the houses to
let, and there is one to let in Chester Square which would suit us
exactly; that is, if you will join. She ought to have a season in town,
ought she not, Mr. De Burgh?"
He looked keenly at Katherine, and smiled. "Yes, Miss Liddell ought to
taste the incomparable delights of the season by all means. Life is
incomplete without it."
"I should like to experience it certainly, for once, but I shall be more
in the mood for such excitements next year--_perhaps_," returned
Katherine, gravely.
"Oh, my dear Katie, never put things off! At all events, be presented.
That would be a sort of beginning; and I am to be presented too, so we
might go together."
"I do not intend to be presented," said Katherine; "it would be needless
trouble. I have not the least ambition to go to court."
"But, Katherine, it is absolutely necessary to take your proper position
in society. It is not, Mr. De Burgh?"
"What is your objection?" asked De Burgh, disregarding his hostess. "Are
you too radical, or too transcendental, or what?"
"Neither. I simply do not care to go, and do not see the necessity of
going."
"You were always the strangest girl!" cried Mrs. Ormonde, a good deal
annoyed. "But still, if you were with _us_, you might see a good deal--"
"You know, Ada, I am fixed for this year, and would not change even if I
could."
"Forgive me for interrupting you," said Errington, coming from the next
room. "But if you are disengaged, Lady Alice would be greatly obliged by
your playing for her."
"Certainly," cried Katherine. She had a sort of pleasure in obliging
Errington, and Lady Alice for his sake; and putting her knitting into
its little case, she rose and accompanied him to what was called the
music-room, because it contained a grand piano and an old, nearly
stringless violin.
"I don't think," said De Burgh, looking after her, "that your
sister-in-law is quite as much under your influence as you fancy."
"Oh, don't you?" cried Mrs. Ormonde, feeling a flash of dislike to
Katherine thrill through her. It was terribly trying to find an admirer,
of whom she was so proud, drawn from her by that "tiresome, obstinate
girl"; it was also enough to vex a saint to see her turn a deaf ear to
her more experienced and highly placed sister's suggestion. "When you
know a little more of her you will see how obstinate and headstrong she
is."
"Ah! troublesome qualities those, especially in a rich woman, and a
handsome one to boot. There is something very taking about that
sister-in-law of yours, Mrs. Ormonde. If I were Lady Alice I wouldn't
trust Errington with her: she would be a dangerous rival."
"Oh, nonsense! Do you think our Admirable Crichton could go wrong?"
"I don't know. If he ever does, he'll go a tremendous cropper."
"Well, Mr. De Burgh, if you would like to go in and win, you had better
make the running now. Once she 'comes out' in town, you will find a host
of competitors."
"Ha! I suppose you think a rugged fellow like me would have little or no
chance with the curled darlings of May Fair and South Kensington?" Mrs.
Ormonde looked down on her fan, but did not speak. De Burgh laughed.
"Who is going to bring her out?" he asked.
"I am," with dignity.
De Burgh's reply was short and simple. He said, "Oh!" and the
interjection (is there an interjection now?--I am not young enough to
know) brought the color to Mrs. Ormonde's cheek and a frown to her fair
brow. "The young lady is, on the whole, original," he continued. "She
does not care to be presented."
"Do you believe her? I don't. She only said so from love of
contradicting."
"Yes, I believe her; she does not care about it now; but she will
probably get the court fever after a plunge into London life. Who is
singing?--that is something different from the penny whistling Lady
Alice gives us."
"Why it must be Katherine! It is the first time she has sung since she
came. She is always afraid of breaking down, she says. I don't believe
she has sung since the death of her mother." De Burgh's only reply was
to walk into the next room. Leaving Mrs. Ormonde in a state of
irritation against him, Katherine, and the world in general.
Katherine was singing a gay Neapolitan air. She had a rich, sympathetic
voice, and sang with arch expression.
Errington stood beside her, and Lady Alice, the rector's wife and one or
two other guests, were grouped round.
"Thank you. That is thoroughly Italian. You must have studied a good
deal," said Errington, who rather liked music, and was accustomed to the
best.
"Very nice indeed," added Lady Alice. "Very nice" was her highest
praise. "I should like to learn the song."
"I do not think it would suit you," observed Errington.
"Why, Katherine, I had no notion you could 'tune up' in this way," cried
Colonel Ormonde. "Give us another, like a good girl; something
English--'Robin Adair.' There was a fellow in 'ours' used to sing it
capitally."
"I cannot sing it, Colonel Ormonde. I am very sorry."
"Oh, Katherine! I have heard you sing it a hundred times," cried Mrs.
Ormonde, joining them. "Why, it was a great favorite with poor dear Mrs.
Liddell."
"I cannot sing it, Ada," repeated Katherine, quick and low. As she spoke
she caught Errington's eyes.
"No one ought to dictate to a songstress," he said, very decidedly.
"Give us anything you like, so long as you sing."
Kate bent her head, feeling that he understood her, and her hands
wandered over the keys for a minute; then, with a glance at Colonel
Ormonde, she began "Jock o' Hazeldean."
Katherine was not the kind of girl to nurse her grief, to dwell upon it
with morbid insistence: but she remembered, warmly, lovingly. At times
gusts of passionate regret swept over her and shook her self-control,
and she dared not attempt her mother's favorite song; the mere request
for it called up a cloud of memories. She saw the dear face, the sweet
faded blue eyes that used to dwell upon her so tenderly, with such
unutterable content. No other eyes would ever look upon her thus; never
again could she hope for such perfect sympathy as she had once known.
"Does that make up for 'Robin Adair,' Colonel Ormonde?" she said when
the song was ended.
"A very good song and very well sung, but it's not equal to 'Robin
Adair.'"
"Lady Alice, will you try that duet of Helmer's?" asked Katherine; and
Lady Alice graciously assented.
"I shall miss your accompaniment dreadfully when I leave," she said,
when the duet was accomplished. "I feel so sure when you play, and you
help me. I hope you will come and see me. Lady Mary, my aunt, would be
very pleased; don't you think she would?" to Errington, appealingly.
"Certainly. I hope, Miss Liddell, you will not desert Alice. If you will
permit it, Lady Mary Vincent will have the pleasure of calling on you."
"That will be very kind," returned Katherine, softly. If this man were
safely married and settled, she thought, she would like to be friends
with his wife, and serve him in any way she could. If his eyes did not
always confuse and distress her, how much she could like him!
As she rose from the piano, De Burgh, who had been speaking aside with
Colonel Ormonde, left him to join her. "I have settled it all with
Ormonde," he said. "I am to have the pony-carriage and the dun ponies
(not those Mrs. Ormonde generally drives) to-morrow; so, if it does not
rain, I'll give you your first lesson; that is, _if_ you will allow me."
"You are very prompt," returned Katherine, "and very good to take so
much trouble. If it is fine, then, to-morrow. Pray arm yourself with
patience. Are not the dun ponies rather frisky?"
"Spirited, but free from vice. Ormonde had them from _my_ stables. It's
no use learning to drive with dull, inanimate brutes. You'll consider
yourself engaged?"
"I do, if Mrs. Ormonde does not want me to go anywhere with her."
"She will not," said De Burgh, confidently.
"Good-night," returned Katherine. "Tell Mrs. Ormonde I have stolen away,
for I have a slight headache."
"What? going already?" cried De Burgh. "No more songs? The evening,
then, is over."
The following day was soft and bright. March had evidently made up his
martial mind to go out in a lamb-like fashion, and De Burgh was
unusually amiable and communicative. "When shall you be ready to start?"
he asked, following Katherine from the breakfast-table.
"To start where?" she asked.
"What! have you forgotten our plans of last night?" was his
counter-question. "I am to give you your first lesson in driving this
morning. I only wait your orders before going to see the ponies put in.
We had better take advantage of the fine morning."
"Ay, that's right, De Burgh; make hay while the sun shines," said
Ormonde, with his usual tact and jocularity. "But it would be better to
have tried a quieter pair than Dick and Dandie."
"I think you may trust Miss Liddell to me," returned De Burgh,
impatiently. "Well, when shall I bring round the trap?"
"Whenever you like. I am afraid you have set yourself a tiresome task."
De Burgh laughed. "If you prove careless or disobedient, why, I'll not
repeat the dose. In half an hour, then, I'll have the carriage at the
door."
That half-hour was spent by Katherine in explaining to Cis and Charlie
that she could not go out with them that day, for the morning was
promised to De Burgh, and after luncheon she had undertaken to try over
the song which had pleased her with Lady Alice, who was to leave the
next day. The little fellows thought themselves very ill-used. But Miss
Richards, who had greatly prized her deliverance from long muddy rambles
since Katherine's advent, promised to take them to fish in a stream
which ran between the Castleford and Melford properties.
"Do you suppose I shall dare to touch the reins of these terrible
creatures?" said Katherine when De Burgh dashed up to the door, and held
the spirited, impatient animals steady with some difficulty.
"We'll get rid of some of the steam first, and you will get accustomed
to their playfulness," he returned. "Here, Ormonde, haven't you a rug
for Miss Liddell? It may come on to rain."
"Yes; here you are;" and Colonel Ormonde, who was examining the
turn-out, tucked up his fair guest carefully, and warned them to be back
in good time, as he wanted De Burgh to ride over with him to see some
horses which were for sale a mile or two at the other side of Monckton.
"What a frightful pace;" said Katherine, after they had whirled out of
the gates, yet feeling comforted by De Burgh's evident mastery of the
ponies.
"You are not frightened? Don't you think I can manage them?"
"I am not comfortable, because I am not accustomed to horses and furious
driving."
"Oh, they will settle down presently. Where shall we go--through
Garston? It's a fine place. Perhaps you have seen it?"
"I have not, and I should like to see it very much." She was delighted
with the suggestion. It would be a help to her, a consolation, to see so
visible a token of Errington's wealth.
"Curious fellow, Errington," resumed De Burgh. "I suppose he is about
the only man who isn't spoiled by the most unbroken prosperity. Still, a
fellow who never did anything wrong in his life is rather uninteresting;
don't you think so?"
"Has he never done anything wrong? That seems rather incredible."
"If he has, he has kept it deucedly close. But you are right; it is very
incredible."
They drove on for a while in silence. It was a delicious morning--a blue
sky flecked with fleecy white clouds, bright sunlight, birds singing,
hedges budding, all nature welcoming the first sweet intoxication of
renewed youth stirring in her veins. Katherine loved the spring-time,
and felt its influence profoundly, but it was the first spring in which
she had been alone; this time last year she--they--had been at
Bordighera. How heavenly fair it had been! But De Burgh was speaking:
"You did not hear, or rather heed, what I said, Miss Liddell; that's not
civil."
"Indeed it is not--forgive me. What did you say?"
"I suppose you like country life best, as you demolished Mrs. Ormonde's
scheme respecting a house in town so promptly?"
"I enjoy looking at the country, but I know nothing of country life. I
am not sure I should like it."
"What's your objection to drawing-rooms and balls--the season
generally?"
"I do not object; but is my deep mourning suited to these gayeties, Mr.
De Burgh?"
"Well, no. I beg your pardon. Mrs. Ormonde started it, you know. I fancy
it would take double-distilled mourning to keep her out of the swim."
"It is impossible for one nature to judge another which is totally
different, fairly."
"Very true and very prudent. I have not got to the bottom of your
character yet, but I am pursuing my studies," said De Burgh, with a grim
sort of smile. "You see they are settling down to their work now,"
pointing his whip to the ponies. "I'll give you the reins in a minute or
two."
"I think I ought to begin with something quieter," said Katherine,
looking at them uneasily.
De Burgh laughed. "There is a nice stretch of level road before
us--nothing to interfere with you. Change places with me, if you please.
Here, put the reins between your fingers--so; now a turn of the wrist
guides them. I'll hold your hand for a bit. You had better not let the
whip touch them--so. There you are. I'll show you how to handle the
ribbons before you are a fortnight older; that is if you will come out
every day with me."
"Would you take that trouble?" exclaimed Katherine.
"I can take a good deal of trouble if I like my work. Now hold them
steady, and keep your eye on them. When we come to the trees, on there,
turn to the left."
"So far there doesn't seem to be much difficulty; they seem to go all
right of their own accord," she said, after a few minutes.
"They are a capital pair; but there is nothing to disturb them."
For the rest of the way to Garston, De Burgh only spoke to give the
lesson he had undertaken, and Katherine found herself growing interested
and pleased. When they entered the gates, however, she asked him to take
the reins. She wanted to look about her, to remark the surroundings of
Errington's house.
It was a fine place, somewhat flat, perhaps, but beautiful with splendid
trees, and a small lake, through which ran the stream in another part of
which Cis and Charlie were going to fish. The house stood well, the
grounds were admirably laid out and perfectly kept; evidences of wealth
were on all sides.
"I suppose it costs a great deal of money to keep up a place like this,"
said Katherine, breaking a silence which had lasted some minutes: De
Burgh never troubled himself to speak unless he really had something to
say.
"I shouldn't care to live here on less than ten thousand a year," he
returned, glancing round.
"And has Mr. Errington all that money?"
"His father has a good deal more. He bought this place for him, I
believe. Old Errington is very wealthy, and on his last legs, from what
I hear."
"Ten thousand a year! What a quantity of money!"
"Hem! I think I could get through it without much trouble."
"Then you have always been rich?"
"Rich! I have been on the verge of bankruptcy all my life. I never knew
what it was to have enough money."
"But you seem to have gone everywhere and done everything."
"Yes, by discounting my future at a ruinous rate," he returned, with a
sort of reckless candor that amused his hearer. "You scarcely understand
me, I suppose."
"I think I do. I know how uncomfortable it is to want money."
"Indeed! Still, it's not so hard on women as on men."
"Why?"
"We want so much more."
"Then you have so many more chances of earning it."
"Earning it! Oh, that is a new view of the case!"
"I should not mind doing it; that is, if I could succeed."
"Do you know, I took you for your nephews' governess. It never crossed
my mind you were an heiress. As a rule, heiresses are revolting to the
last degree."
"I feel the compliment."
"Remember, I like their money, only I object to its being encumbered."
"You are wonderfully frank, Mr. De Burgh."
"I dare say you said 'brutally frank' in your thoughts, Miss Liddell,
and you are right. I am rather a bad lot, and a little too old to mend.
But let it be a saving clause in your mind, if I ever recur to it, that
the fact of your being nice enough for the governess impelled me to
offer driving lessons to the heiress. Will you take the reins? You might
hold them forever if you choose."
"Not yet, thank you--when we get out on the road again," returned
Katherine, not seeing or seeming to see his covert meaning. "You are
surely not a democrat?"
"A democrat? No. I have no particular view as regards politics; but if
the devil ever got so completely the upper hand in this world as to
leave it without a class to serve and obey _us_, their natural
superiors, I'd decline to stay here any longer, and descend by the help
of a bullet to lower regions, where I should have better society."
"More congenial society, I am sure," said Katherine, laughing, though
revolted by his tone. She felt it would never do to show she was. "You
are quite different from any one _I_ ever met. Do you know, you give me
the idea of a wicked Norman Baron in the Middle Ages."
De Burgh laughed, as if he rather enjoyed the observation. "I know," he
said; "a regular melodramatic villain, 'away with him to the lowest
dungeon beneath the castle moat' sort of fellow, who would draw a Jew's
teeth before breakfast and roast a restive burgher after. I wonder,
considering you possess the two strongest attractions for men of this
description--money and (may I say it?) beauty--that you trust yourself
with me."
"Ah! you concealed your vile opinions successfully; so you see I could
not know my danger," returned Katherine, laughing. "You are not at all a
modern man."
"I accept the compliment."
"Which I did not intend for one. When we get through the gates I will
take the reins again."
"Certainly; but the ponies' heads will be turned homeward, and I am
afraid they will pull. They have steadied down wonderfully." The rest of
the drive was spent in careful instruction, and Katherine was surprised
to find how quickly the time had gone when they reached the house.
De Burgh interested her in spite of her dislike of the opinions and
sentiments he expressed. There was something picturesque about the man,
and she felt that he was attracted to her in a curious and almost
alarming manner. Yet she was conscious of an inclination to play with
fire. It was some time since she felt so light-hearted. The sight of
Errington's luxurious surroundings seemed to take something from the
load upon her conscience, and this sense of partial relief gave
brilliancy to her eyes, as the fresh balmy air gave her something of her
former rich coloring.
"By Jove!" cried Colonel Ormonde, as Katherine took her place at
luncheon, "your drive has agreed with you. I've never seen you look so
well. You must pursue the treatment. How did she get on, De Burgh?"
"Not so badly. But Miss Liddell is more timid than I expected. She'll
get accustomed to the look of the cattle in a little while. Courage is
largely made up of a habit. I'll take some of that cold lamb, Ormonde."
And De Burgh spoke no more till he had finished his luncheon.
"Do you know, Miss Liddell, that my father was an old friend of your
uncle's?" said Errington that evening, as he placed himself beside her
on a retired sofa, while Miss Brereton was executing some gymnastics on
the piano. "I have just been taking to Ormonde about him. I remember
having been sent to call upon him--long ago, when I was at college, I
think. He lived in some wild north-land; I remember it was a great way
off. Then my father went for a trip to Calcutta, and I fancy lost sight
of his old chum."
Katherine grew red and white as he spoke; she could only murmur, "Yes, I
was told they had been friends."
"Then you must accept me as a hereditary friend," said Errington,
kindly. "I shall tell my father that I have made your acquaintance,
though he does not take much interest in anything now, I am sorry to
say."
"I am sorry--" faltered Katherine.
"Both Lady Alice and I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in town,"
continued Errington, having waited in vain for her to finish her
sentence. "I am going to see her safely in her aunt's charge to-morrow,
and shall not return, I fancy, till you have left."
"You are both very good. I shall be most happy to see you again,"
returned Katherine, mastering her forces, though she felt ready to fly
and hide her guilty head in any corner. Errington felt that she was
unusually uneasy and uncomfortable with him, so made way the more
readily for De Burgh, who monopolized her for rest of the evening.
The next day was wet, and for a week the weather was unsettled, so that
Katherine had only one more lesson in driving before the party broke up,
and De Burgh too was obliged to leave.
But Katherine prolonged her stay. Charlie, in ardor for fishing, had
slipped into the river and caught a severe, feverish cold.
The way in which he clung to his auntie, the evident comfort he derived
from her presence, the delight he had in holding her cool soft hand in
his own burning little fingers, made him impossible for her to leave
him. By the time he was able to sit up and play with his brother, poor
Charlie was a pallid little skeleton, and his auntie bade him a tender
adieu, determined to lose no time in finding sea-side quarters for the
precious invalid.