TAKING COUNSEL.
Miss Payne was busy looking over several cards which lay in a small
china dish on her work-table. It was early in the forenoon, and she
still wore a simple muslin cap and a morning gown of gray cashmere. Her
mouth looked very rigid and her eyes gloomy. To her enters her brother,
fresh and bright, a smile on his lips and a flower in his button-hole.
Miss Payne vouchsafed no greeting. Looking at him sternly, she asked,
"Well! what do you want?"
"To ask at what hour Miss Liddell arrives, and if I am to meet her at
the station."
"She is not coming to-day," snapped Miss Payne; "she is not coming till
Saturday."
"Indeed!" In a changed tone, "I hope she is all right?"
"It's hard to answer that. It seems one of the nephews has had a
feverish cold, and she did not like to leave him. I do not feel sure
there is not some real reason under this, for she adds that she is
anxious to see and consult me about some matter she has much at heart.
Perhaps there is a man at the bottom of it."
"I hope not," said Bertie, quietly, "unless she has found some former
friend at Castleford. I do not think Miss Liddell is the sort of girl to
accept a man on five or six weeks' acquaintance, and she has scarcely
been at Castleford so long."
"It is impossible to fathom the folly of women when a lover is in the
case."
"You are hard, Hannah."
"I do not care whether I am or not. I don't want to lose Miss Liddell
before the time agreed for."
"No doubt she is a profitable--"
"It is no question of profit," interrupted Miss Payne, grimly. "Whether
she goes or whether she stays she is bound to me financially for twelve
months. But I am interested in Katherine, and it will be far better for
her to stay on here and feel her way before she launches into the whirl
of what they call society. I want to save her for a while from the wild
rush of dressing, driving, dining, dancing, that has swept away all my
girls sooner or later. Look here: the mothers are flocking round her
already." She began to take the cards out of the dish and read the
names: "Lady Mary Vincent, 23 Waldegrave Crescent; she is a sister of
that Lord Melford who ran such a rig years ago. _Her_ boys are still at
Eton. I suppose she comes because her niece and Miss Liddell have struck
up a friendship at Castleford. Then here are Mrs. and Miss Alford; we
all knew them in Rome; there's a son _there_; they are respectable
people, well off, and fighting their way up judiciously enough. Lady
Barrington; _she_ has a nephew, but she will be useful. Mr. and Mrs.
Tracey; they were at Florence, and have a couple of daughters; there may
be a nephew or a cousin, but I never heard of one; they are pleasant,
sensible, artistic people, who just enjoy themselves and don't trouble.
Lady Mildred Reptan, Miss Brereton, John de Burgh; I don't know these.
All these people evidently think she is in town, or have only just come
themselves, but you see the outlook."
"John de Burgh," repeated Bertie, thoughtfully. "I remember something
about him; nothing particularly good. I believe he is on the turf. Yes,
he is a famous steeple-chase rider, and rather fast--not too desirable a
follower for Miss Liddell."
"She met him at Castleford, and I rather think he is related to Colonel
Ormonde." Miss Payne put back the cards in the dish as she spoke, and
remained silent for some instants.
"You will be glad when Miss Liddell returns," said Bertie.
"So will you," she returned, tartly. "But I hope you won't dip into her
purse so freely as you used for your reformed drunkards and ragged
orphans. It was _too_ bad."
"Miss Liddell never waits to be asked. She seems on the lookout for
cases on which to bestow money. As she has plenty, why should I hesitate
to accept it?"
Miss Payne slowly rubbed her nose with the handle of a small hook she
used for pulling out the loops of her tatting. "Katherine Liddell is an
uncommon sort of girl," she said, "but I like her. I have an idea that
she likes me better than any of the others did, yet there are not many
things on which we agree. She is a little flighty in some ways, but she
has some sense too, some notion of the value of money; she does not lose
her dead about dress, nor does she buy costly baubles at the jewellers'.
She, certainly wastes a good many pounds on books, when a three-guinea
subscription to Mudie's would answer the purpose quite as well. Then
she is honestly deeply grieved at the loss of her mother, but she does
not parade it, or nurse it either, and I think she has some opinion of
_my_ judgment. Still she is a little unsettled, and not quite happy."
"I think she deserves to be happy," observed Bertie, with an air of
conviction--"if any erring mortal can deserve anything."
"We seldom get our deserts, either way, _here_; indeed, this world is so
upside down I am inclined to believe there must be another to put it
straight."
"We have fortunately better proof than that," returned her brother,
gravely.
"I must say I feel very curious to know what Katherine's plan is; I am
terrible afraid there is a man in it."
"Nothing more probable;" and Bertie fell into a fit of thought. "You
know Mrs. Needham!" he asked suddenly.
"Well, I just know her."
"She is a most earnest, energetic woman, though we are not quite of one
mind on all subjects. She wants to secure Miss Liddell's assistance in
getting up a bazar for the Stray Children's Home. I shall bring her to
call on you."
"Don't!"--very emphatically. "I know more than enough people already,
and I don't want any well-dressed beggars added to the number."
"Well, I will not interfere; but that is of little consequence. If Mrs.
Needham wants to come, she'll come."
"I hate these fussy subscription-hunting women!" cried Miss Payne.
"She does _not_ hunt for subscriptions, nor does she take any special
interest in religious matters, but she approves of this particular
charity. She is an immensely busy woman, and writes in I don't know now
many newspapers."
"Newspapers! And are our opinions made up for us by rambling hussies of
_that_ description?"
Bertie burst out laughing. "If Mrs. Needham heard you!" he exclaimed.
"She considers herself 'the glass of fashion and the mould of form,' the
most successful and important woman in the world--the English world."
Miss Payne's only reply was a contemptuous upward toss of the head. "If
you will be at Euston Square on Saturday to meet the five-fifty train
from Monckton," she resumed, "I should be obliged to you--Miss Liddell
travels alone--and you can dine with us if you like after, unless you
are going to preach the gospel somewhere."
"Thank you. Why do you object to my preaching?"
"Because I like things done decently and in order. You are not ordained,
and there are plenty of churches and chapels, God knows, for people to
go to, if they would wash their faces and be decent. Now I can't stay
here any longer, so good-by for the present." She took up a little
basket containing an old pair of gloves, large scissors, and a ball of
twine, and walked briskly away to attend to the plants in her diminutive
conservatory.
De Burgh did not prolong his absence; he returned to Castleford while
Katherine was still in attendance on the little invalid; but he found
his stay neither pleasant nor profitable. Katherine was far too much
occupied nursing her nephew to give any time or attention to her
impatient admirer.
"Miss Liddell is a peculiar specimen of her sex," he growled, in his
usual candid and unaffected manner, as he and Colonel Ormonde sat alone
over their wine. "She never leaves those brats. She must know that it's
not every girl _I_ should take the trouble of teaching, and yet she
throws over each appointment I make. Does she intend to adopt your
wife's boys? Adopted sons are an appendage no man would like to accept
with a bride, be she ever so well endowed."
"Oh, she will forget them as soon as she falls in love! You must carry
on the siege more vigorously."
"How the deuce are you to do it when you never get within hail of the
fortress? There is something peculiar about Katherine Liddell I can't
quite make out. If she were a commonplace woman, angular, squinting, or
generally plain, I could go in and win and collar the cash without
hesitation, but somehow or other I can't go into the affair in this
spirit. I want the woman as well as the money."
"Well, I see no reason why you shouldn't have both. Your faintness of
heart never lost _you_ any fair lady, I am sure, Jack."
"Perhaps not." And he smoked meditatively for a minute or two.
"Then you will not leave us to-morrow?" said Ormonde.
"When does _she_ go up to town?" asked De Burgh.
"On Monday, I believe."
"Then I'll run up the day after to-morrow. Old De Burgh has just come
back from the Riviera. I'll go and do the dutiful, and tell him I have
found a suitable partner for my joys and sorrows; it will score to my
credit. He doesn't half like me, you know. Then I'll have a dozen better
chances to cultivate Miss Liddell in town, and away from your nursery,
than I have here. Give me her address. She is a frank, unconventional
creature, and won't mind coming out with me alone."
"Very true. Mrs. Ormonde has persuaded me to take her to town for a
couple of months; so we'll be there to back you up."
"Good! Meanwhile I will do my best for my own hand. If she starts on
Monday, I'll pay my respects to the peerless one by the time she has
swallowed her luncheon on Tuesday," said De Burgh, with a harsh laugh.
Thus it came to pass that De Burgh's card was amongst those preserved
for Katherine's inspection; but she postponed her departure first to
Wednesday, next to Saturday, and De Burgh grew savagely impatient when
Colonel Ormonde informed him of these changes in a private note.
When at last she did arrive, Miss Payne was struck by the look of
renewed hope and cheerfulness in her young friend's face. Her movements
even were more alert, and her voice had lost its languid tone.
"I thought you would find it difficult to get away," said Miss Payne,
as she assisted her to remove her travelling dress. "But I am very
pleased to see you again, and to see you looking more like yourself."
"I _feel_ more like my old self," returned Katherine, actually kissing
Miss Payne--a kind of treatment exceedingly new to her.
"In fact, I am full of a project which will, I hope, make me much
happier. I will tell you all about it after dinner, if we are alone.
Your advice will be of great value to me."
"Such as it is, I shall be glad to give it; though I do not suppose
you'll take it unless it suits your wishes."
"Perhaps not," said Katherine, laughing; "but I think it will."
"She is going to marry some fortune-hunting scamp," thought Miss Payne.
"I was afraid no good would come of her visit to that little dressy
dolly sister-in-law of hers." She only said, "Dinner will be ready in
half an hour, and we shall be quite alone."
Then she went quickly down stairs to her brother, who was gazing out of
the window, but not seeing what he looked at.
"You can't dine here to-day, Bertie," said Miss Payne, abruptly, as she
entered the room.
"And why not?"
"Because she wants to have some confidential conversation with me after
dinner, and we must be alone."
"Have you any idea what it will be about?"
"No; and I am astonished at your putting the question. You may come in
after church to-morrow if you like."
"Thank you. I shall be rather late, as I am going to an open-air service
beyond Whitechapel."
"Well, I do hope you'll get something to eat after. Are _you_ going to
preach?"
"No. I seldom preach. I haven't the gift of eloquence."
"Which means you have a little common-sense left. Really, Gilbert, for a
man of thirty-five, or nearly thirty-five, you are too credulous."
"It is my nature to be so," he returned, laughing. "Well, good-by to
you. It is really unkind to turn me out in this unceremonious fashion."
So saying, with his usual sweet-tempered compliance he departed.
"What a good boy he is!" said Miss Payne to herself, looking at the
grate, while by a dual brain action she made a brief calculation as to
how much longer she must burn coal. "He ought to have been a girl. Why
don't rich young women see that he is the very stuff to make a pleasant
husband, instead of those monsters of strength and determination that
fools of women make gods of, and themselves door mats for, and often
find to be only big pumpkins after all?"
Miss Payne's anticipations were of the gloomiest when, after their
quickly despatched dinner, she settled herself between the fire and
window with her favorite tatting, drawing up the knots with vicious
energy. She opened proceedings by an interrogative "Well?" and closed
her mouth with a snap.
"Well, my dear Miss Payne," began Katherine, who had settled herself
comfortably in a corner of the sofa, "I have an important plan in my
mind, and I want your co-operation. I should have written to you about
it, only I waited to get Colonel Ormonde's consent."
"It's a man!" ejaculated Miss Payne to herself.
"To begin: I was not at all satisfied with the boys when I first went to
Castleford. They were not exactly neglected, but they were quite
secluded. Mrs. Ormonde scarcely saw them, and their governess or
attendant was not at all lady-like; she speaks with a London accent and
misplaces her _h'_s; altogether she is not the sort of person I should
have placed with the boys. Then the poor little fellows clung to me and
monopolized me as if I had been their mother; they made me feel like
one. Moreover, I seemed to see my own dear mother and hear her voice
when they spoke to me. She loved them so much!"
Katherine paused suddenly, but almost immediately resumed: "The
youngest, Charlie, is not yet seven, and is very delicate. He has had
rather a sharp attack of bronchitis. I am very anxious about him. How I
want to take them to the sea-side next month, and to keep them there all
the summer, and I want your help to find a nice place. I know nothing of
the English coast. More than this: I feel I could not get on without
you, so you must come with us. Suppose, dear Miss Payne, we take a house
with a garden near the sea, and you let this one? I will gladly pay all
extra cost, while our original agreement, as far as I myself am
concerned, shall hold good."
Miss Payne listened attentively to this long speech, the expression of
her countenance relaxing; but she did not reply at once.
"I think," she said, after a moment's thought, "that you are exceedingly
liberal, but I am not sure you are wise. As far as I am concerned, I
should like your plan very much. I do not profess to be fond of
children, but I dare say these little boys would not interfere with me.
As regards yourself, if you keep the children for the whole summer, it
is possible Mrs. Ormonde might be inclined to leave them with you
altogether, and this would create a burden for you--a burden you are by
no means called upon to bear. It is a dangerous experiment."
"Not to me," returned Katherine, thoughtfully. "In fact it is a
consummation for which I devoutly wish. I should like to adopt my
nephews."
"That would certainly be foolish. It would not be kind to the children,
Katherine (as you wish me to call you). In the course of a year or two
you will marry, and then the creatures who had learned to love you and
look on you as a mother would be again motherless. Do not take them from
their natural guardian."
"What you say is very reasonable. You cannot know how certain I feel
that I shall _not_ marry. However, let us leave all that to arrange
itself in the future; let us think of the present. Colonel and Mrs.
Ormonde are coming up to town, for two or three months, in May, and I do
not like the idea of Cis and Charlie being left behind; so will you help
me, my dear Miss Payne? Shall you mind a spring and summer in some quiet
sea-side place?"
Again Miss Payne reflected before she spoke. "I should rather like it:
and your idea of letting this house is a good one. Yes, I shall be happy
to assist you as far as I can. The first question is, where shall we
go?"
"That, I am sure, _you_ know best."
An interesting disquisition ensued. Miss Payne rejected Bournemouth,
Weymouth, Worthing, Brighton, and Folkestone, for what seemed to
Katherine sufficient reason, and finally recommended Sandbourne, a quiet
and little-known nook on the Dorsetshire coast, as being mild but not
relaxing, not too near nor too far from town, and possessing fine sands,
while the country round was less bare and flat than what usually lies
near the coast.
Finally the "friends in council" decided to go down and look at the
place. "For," observed Miss Payne, "if we are to go away the beginning
of next month, we have little more than a fortnight before us."
"By all means," cried Katherine, starting up. "Let us go to-morrow; we
might 'do' the place in a day, and come back the next. You are really a
dear, to fall into my views so readily."
"To-morrow? Oh! that's a little too fast; the day after, if you like.
Now I wish you would look at these cards; they have all been left for
you in the last few days."
Katherine took and looked over them with some running comments. "Mrs.
Tracy! I shall be quite glad to see them again; they were always so kind
and pleasant. Lady Mary Vincent! I did not think she would call so soon;
I think I must go and see her to-morrow. I rather like her niece, Lady
Alice Mordaunt; she is a nice, gentle girl. She is to be married very
soon to a man who interested me a good deal; such a thoughtful, clever
man, but rather provokingly composed and perfect--a sort of person who
never makes a mistake."
"He must be a remarkable person," said Miss Payne.
"He will soon be in Parliament, and has some of the qualities which make
a statesman, I imagine. I shall watch his progress." Here Katherine took
up a card, and while she read the inscription, "John Fitzstephen de
Burgh," a slight smile crept round her lips. "I had no idea _he_ was in
town, or that he would take the trouble of calling on me so soon. I
thought he was too utterly offended."
"Why?" asked Miss Payne, looking at her curiously.
"He is rather ill-tempered, I fancy, and he was vexed because I
preferred staying with Charlie to going out with him: he offered to
teach me how to drive; so I believe, like the rich young man in the
gospel, he went away in desperation."
"Hum! Is _he_ a rich young man?"
"He is not young, and I am not sure about his being rich. He has a
hunting-lodge and horses, yet I don't fancy he is rich. He is a sort of
relation of the Ormondes."
"I suspect he is a spendthrift, and would like _your_ money."
"Oh, very likely; but, my dear Miss Payne, you need not warn me; I am
quite sufficiently inclined to believe that the men who show me
attention are thinking more of what I have than what _I_ am. Believe me
it is not an agreeable frame of mind. Mr. De Burgh is a strange sort of
character. He amuses me; he is not a bit like a modern man. He doesn't
seem to think it worth while to conceal what he feels or thinks. There
is an odd well-bred roughness about him, if I may use such an
expression; but I greatly prefer him to Colonel Ormonde."
"Oh, you do? Colonel Ormonde is just an average man," added Miss Payne.
"I should hope the general average is higher; but I must not be
ill-natured. He has always been very kind to me."
This was a pleasant interlude to Katherine. She had succeeded in hushing
her heart to rest for a while, in banishing the thoughts which had long
tormented her. Nothing had comforted and satisfied her as did this
project of adopting her nephews. It is true she had not yet announced
it, but in her own mind she resolved that once they were under her wing,
she would not let them go again, unless indeed something quite
unforeseen occurred; nor did she anticipate any difficulties with their
mother. She would thus secure a natural legitimate interest in life, and
make a home, which to a girl of her disposition was essential. Yet she
knew well that in renouncing the idea of marriage she was denying one of
the strongest necessities of her nature. The love and companionship of a
man in whom she believed, for whom she could be ambitious, who would
link her with the life and movement of the outer world, who would be the
complement of her own being, was a dream of delight. Not that she felt
in the least unable to stand alone, or fancied she was too delicate to
take care of herself, but life without the love of another self could
never be full and perfect. She was too true a woman not to value deeply
the tenderness of a man; yet she had firmly resolved in justice to
herself, in fairness to any possible husband, to renounce that crown of
woman's existence. It was the only atonement she could make. Well, at
least her loving care of these dear little boys, who were in point of
fact motherless, would in some degree expiate her evil deed, and would
keep her heart warm and her mind healthy.
[**extra space]
Possessed of the true magic, "money," obstacles faded away. The
expedition to Sandbourne was most successful. Katherine was brighter
than Miss Payne had ever seen her before. The day was sunny, the place
looked cheerful and picturesque. It lay under a wooded hill, ending in a
bold rocky point, which sheltered it and a wide bay from the easterly
winds. A splendid stretch of golden sands offered a playground for the
racing waves, and an old tower crowned an islet near the opposite point
of the land, which there lay low, and was covered with gorse and
heather.
There was an objectionable row of lodging-houses, against which must be
entered a low, red-brick, ivy-grown inn, old-fashioned, picturesque, and
comfortable. One or two villas stood in their own grounds but were
occupied, and one, evidently older was shut up.
Perhaps because it was inaccessible, perhaps because it had a pleasant
outlook across the bay to the island and tower at its western extremity,
Katherine at once determined it was the very place to suit them, and
made her way to the local house agent to see what could be done toward
securing it. Cliff Cottage was not on his books, said the agent; but if
the lady wished "he would apply to the owner, who had gone with his wife
in search of health to the Riviera. In the meantime there is Amanda
Villa, at the other end of Beach Terrace, very comfortable and elegantly
furnished"--pointing to a glaring white edifice with a Belvedere tower
in would-be Italian style. "I don't think you could find anything
better." But the aspect of Amanda Villa did not please either lady, so
they returned to Cliff Cottage: and remarking a thin curl of blue smoke
from one of the chimneys, they ventured to make their way to a side
entrance, where their knocking was answered by an old deaf caretaker,
who, for a consideration, permitted them to inspect the house. It proved
to be all Katherine wished. Though the furniture was scanty and worn, it
was clean and well kept, and "We can easily get what is necessary," she
concluded, with the sense of power which always goes with a full purse.
"Let us go back to the agent and get the address of the owner."
"Better make your offer through him," returned Miss Payne, and Katherine
complied.
The days which succeeded seemed very long. Katherine had taken a fancy
to the quaint pretty abode, and was impatient to be settled there with
her boys. There was a "preparatory school for young gentlemen," which
was an additional attraction to Sandbourne, both children being
extremely ignorant even for their tender years; and Katherine was
greatly opposed to Colonel Ormonde's intention of sending Cecil away to
a boarding-school. She wished him to have some preliminary training
before he was plunged into the difficulties of a large boarding-school.
To Colonel Ormonde her will was law, and if only she could get the house
she wanted, all would go well.
Of course Katherine lost no time in visiting her _protegee_ Rachel. She
had written to her during her absence to let her feel that she was not
forgotten; and the replies were not only well written and expressed, but
showed a degree of intelligence above the average.
When Katherine entered the room where Rachel sat at work she was touched
and delighted at the sudden brightening of Rachel's sunken eyes, the
joyous flush that rose to her cheek.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I did not expect you so soon. How good of you to
come!" She placed a chair, and in reply to Katherine's friendly
question, "How have you been going on?" Rachel gave an encouraging
account of herself. Mrs. Needham had introduced her to two families,
both of whom wished her to work in the house, which, though infinitely
disagreeable to her, she did not like to refuse.
"Perhaps," she added, "the counter-irritation was good for me, for I
feel more braced up. And of all your many benefits, dear Miss Liddell,
nothing has done me so much good as the books you sent me, except the
sight of yourself. Do not think I am exaggerating, but I am a mere
machine, resigned to work because I must not die, save when I see you
and speak to you; then I feel I can live--that I have something to live
for, to show I am not unworthy of your trust in me. Perhaps time will
heal even such wounds as mine. Is it not terrible to try and live
without hope?"
"But you must hope, Rachel. You are not alone. I feel truly, deeply
interested in you; believe me, I will always be your friend. You are
looking better, but I want to see your eyes less hollow and your mouth
less sad. We are both young, and life has many lights and shades for us
both, so far as we can anticipate."
A long and confidential conversation ensued, in the course of which
Katherine quite forgot there was any difference of position between
herself and the humble dressmaker whom her bounty of purse and heart had
restored.