A DINNER AT MRS. NEEDHAM'S.
Mrs. Needham was a very important at personage in her own estimation,
and very popular with a large circle of acquaintances. Most of them
thought she was a widow, and only a few old friends were aware that away
in a distant colony Needham masculine was hiding his diminished head
from creditors of various kinds and penalties of many descriptions, not
in penitence, but with as much of enjoyment as could be extracted from
the simple materials of antipodean life. Having taken with him all the
cash he could lay hands upon, his deserted wife was left to do battle
alone on a small income which was her own, and fortunately secured to
her on her marriage.
She was much too energetic to sit still when she might work and earn
money. The editor of a provincial paper, a friend of early days, gave
her space in his columns for a weekly letter, and an introduction to a
London _confrere_. On this slender foundation she built her humble
fortunes. There were, in truth, few happier women in London. Brimful of
interest in all the undertakings (and their name was legion) in which
she was concerned, kind and unselfish, though quite free from sentiment,
her life was full of movement and color. She had an enormous capacity
for absorbing the marvellous, quite uninfluenced by the natural
shrewdness with which she acted in all ordinary matters. In a bright
surface way she was clever and full of ideas--ideas which others took up
and fructified--from which Mrs. Needham herself derived no benefit
beyond the pleasure of imparting them. She was constantly taken in by
barefaced impostors, yet at times, and in an accidental way, hit on
wonderfully accurate estimates of persons whom the general public
credited with widely different qualities.
She had a nice little old-fashioned house in Kensington, with a pretty
garden, just large enough to allow of visitors being well wet in rainy
weather between the garden gate and the hall door. This diminutive
mansion was crammed with curios, specimens of china, of carved wood, of
Japanese lacquer--these much rarer than at present. It was a pleasant
abode withal; a kindly, generous, happy-go-lucky spirit pervaded it. Few
coming to seek help there were sent empty away, and the owner's earnest
consideration was ready for all who sought her advice. It was real joy
to her to entertain her friends in an easy, unceremonious way, and her
friends were equally pleased to accept her hospitality.
On the present occasion Mrs. Needham was deeply interested in her
expected guests. Katherine Liddell had pleased her from the first,
practical and unsentimental as she was. She was disposed to weave a
little romance round the bright sympathetic girl, who listened so
graciously to her schemes and projects, whose brightness had under it a
strain of tender sadness, which gave an indescribable subtle charm to
her manner. Miss Payne she had known more or less for a considerable
time, and regarded as a worthy, useful woman; while her third guest was
the only child of the wealthy publisher George Bradley, the owner of
that new and flourishing publication, _The Piccadilly Review_, wherein
those brilliant articles on "Our Colonial System," "Modern European
Politics," etc., supposed to be from the pen of Miles Errington,
appeared.
"A _partie carree_ of ladies does not seem to promise much," said Mrs.
Needham, when she had greeted Miss Payne and "her young friend," into
which position Katherine had sunk; "but unless I could have three or
four men it is better to have none; besides we want to talk of business,
and men under such circumstances always exclude us, so I don't see why
we should admit them. Miss Bradley--Miss Payne, Miss Liddell, of whom
you have heard me speak."
Miss Bradley rose from the sofa, where she was half reclining beside a
bright wood fire, a tall stately figure in a long pale blue plush dress,
cut low in front, and tied loosely with a knot of blue satin ribbon,
nestling among the rich yellow white lace which fell from the edge of
the bodice. She was extremely fair, even colorless, with abundant but
somewhat sandy hair. Her features were regular and marked, a well-shaped
head was gracefully set on a firm white column-like throat, and her eyes
were clear and cold when in repose, but darkened and lit up when
speaking of whatever roused and interested her. Indeed, she looked
strong and stern when silent.
"I am very pleased to meet you," she said, in a full, pleasant voice.
"I have often heard of you from Mrs. Needham, and I think you know a
friend of mine--Mr. Errington."
"Yes; I know him," returned Katherine, feeling her face aflame.
"I have heard of you too," continued Miss Bradley, addressing Miss
Payne, "from several mutual friends, though we have never happened to
meet before. I think you had just left Rome with Miss Jennings when I
arrived there some four years ago."
"I had; and remember you were expected there."
"Miss Jennings married a relation of mine, and I see her very often, at
least often for London. She really looks younger, if possible, than
formerly," etc., etc., and their talk flowed in the Jennings channel for
a few minutes.
Meantime Mrs. Needham, passing her arm through Katherine's, led her away
to a very diminutive back room, draped and carpeted with Oriental
stuffs, then beginning to be the fashion, and crammed with all
imaginable ornaments and specimens, from bits of rare "Capo di monti" to
funny sixpenny toys. "I have just found such a treasure," she exclaimed;
"a real saucer of old Chelsea, and only a small bit out of this side.
Isn't Angela Bradley handsome? She is a very remarkable girl, or perhaps
I ought to say woman. She speaks four or five languages, and plays
divinely; then she is a capital critic. It was she who advised her
father to publish that very singular book, _The Gorgon's Head_; every
publisher in London had refused it. He took it, and has cleared--oh, I'd
be afraid to say how much money by it."
"I hope the writer got a fair share," said Katherine, smiling.
"Hum! ah, that's another matter; but I dare say Bradley will treat him
quite as fairly as any one else. She will have a big fortune one of
these days. Her father perfectly adores her."
"I wish I could write," said Katherine, with a sigh. "It must be a
charming way to earn money."
"Why don't you try? You seem to me to have plenty of brains; and I
suppose you will have to do something. I was so sorry--" Mrs. Needham
was beginning, when dinner was announced, and her sympathetic utterances
were cut short.
The repast was admirable, erring perhaps on the side of plenteousness,
and well served by two smart young women in black, with pink ribbons in
their caps. Nor was there any lack of bright talk a good deal beyond the
average. Miss Bradley was an admirable listener, and often by well-put
questions or suggestions kept the ball rolling. Dinner was soon over,
and coffee was served in the drawing-room.
"Now, Miss Payne, I should like to consult with you," said Miss Bradley,
putting her cup on the mantel-piece, and resuming her seat on the sofa,
where she invited Miss Payne by a gesture to sit beside her, "about the
daughter of an old friend of mine, who does not want her to join him in
India, as she is rather delicate, and he cannot retire for a couple of
years. It is time she left school, and the question is, where shall she
go?"
While Miss Bradley thus attacked the subject uppermost in her mind, Mrs.
Needham settled herself in an arm-chair as far as she could from the
speakers, and asked Katherine to sit down beside her.
"Let them discuss their business without us," she said, "and I want to
talk to you. Here, these are some rather interesting photographs. They
are all actors or singers on this side; you'll observe the shape of the
heads, the contour generally; these are politicians, and have quite a
different aspect. Remarkable, isn't it? But I was just saying when we
went down to dinner that I was awfully sorry to hear of all your
troubles--of course we must not regret that the man is alive; though if
he is a cross-grained creature, as he seems to be, life won't be much
good to him--and I shall be greatly interested if you care to tell me
what your plans are."
"I really have none. There are several things I could do pretty well. I
could teach music and languages, but it is so difficult to find pupils.
Then I am still in great uncertainty as to what my cousin may do."
"He is a greedy savage," said Mrs. Needham, emphatically; "but he will
not dare to demand the arrears. He would raise a howl of execration by
such conduct. Now, as you have nothing settled, and if Angela Bradley
and Miss Payne make it up, you will have to leave where you are. Suppose
you come to me?"
"To you? My dear Mrs. Needham, it would be delightful."
"Would it? It is not a very magnificent appointment, I assure you. You
see, I have so much to do that I really _must_ have help. I had a girl
for three or four months. I gave her twenty-five pounds a year, and
thought she would be a great comfort, but she made a mess of my room and
my papers, and could not write a decent letter; besides, she was
discontented, so she left me, and I have been in a horrid muddle for the
last fortnight. Now if you like to come to me, while you are looking out
for something better, I am sure I shall be charmed, and will do all I
can to push you. It's a miserable sort of engagement, but there it is;
only I'll want you to come as soon as you can, for there are heaps to
do."
"Indeed I am delighted to be your help, or secretary, or whatever you
choose to call me, and as for looking for something better, if I can
only save enough to provide for the boys, I would rather work with you
for twenty-five pounds a year than any one else for--"
"For five hundred?" put in Mrs. Needham, with an indulgent smile, as she
paused.
"No, no. Five hundred a year is not to be lightly rejected," returned
Katherine, laughing. "But as I greatly doubt that I could ever be worth
five hundred a year to any one, I gladly accept twenty-five."
"Remember, I do not expect you to stay an hour after you find something
better. Now do me tell how matters stand with you."
Katherine therefore unbosomed herself, and among other things told how
well and faithfully Rachel Trant had behaved toward her, of the fatherly
kindness shown her by her old lawyer, and wound up by declaring that the
world could not be so bad a place as it is reckoned, seeing that in her
reverse of fortune she had found so much consideration. "Of course," she
concluded, "there are heaps of people who, once I drop from the ranks of
those who can enjoy and spend, will forget my existence; but I have no
right to expect more. They only want playfellows, not friends, and ask
no more than they give."
"Quite true, my young philosopher. Tell me, can you come on
Saturday--come to stay?"
"I fear not. Besides I have a superstition about entering on a new abode
on Saturday. Don't laugh! But I will come to-morrow, if you like, and
write and copy for you. I will come each day till Monday next, and so
help you to clear up."
"That is a good child! I wish I could make it worth your while to stay;
but we don't know what silver lining is behind the dark clouds of the
present."
Katherine shook her head. Mrs. Needham's suggestion showed her that
peace and a relieved conscience was the highest degree of silvery
brightness she anticipated in the future. One thing alone could restore
to her the joyousness of her early days, and that was far away out of
her reach.
"Mr. Errington and Mr. Payne," said one of the smart servants, throwing
open the door.
"Ah, yes! Mr. Errington, _of_ course," exclaimed Mrs. Needham, under her
breath. "I might have expected him. And you too, Mr. Payne?" she added
aloud. "Very glad to see you both."
As soon as they had paid their respects to the hostess, Errington spoke
to Katherine, while Payne remained talking with Mrs. Needham.
"I am glad to see you looking better than when we last spoke together,"
said Errington, pausing beside Katherine's chair. "Have you had any
communication from Newton yet?"
"I have heard nothing from him, and feel very anxious to know George
Liddell's decision. I had a note from Mrs. Ormonde, written in a much
more friendly spirit than I had expected, but still in despair. She,
with the Colonel, had been to demand explanations from Mr. Newton, and
do not seem much cheered by the interview."
"No doubt the appearance of your cousin was a tremendous blow, but they
have no right to complain."
"However that may be, I will not quarrel with the boys' mother, in spite
of her unkindness. I fear so much to create any barrier between us."
"Those children are very dear to you," said Errington, looking down on
her with a soft expression and lingering glance.
"They are. I don't suppose you could understand how dear."
"Why? Do you think me incapable of human affection?" asked Errington,
smiling.
"No, certainly not; only I imagine justice is more natural to you than
love, though you can be generous, as I know."
Errington did not answer. He stood still, as if some new train of
thought had been suddenly suggested to him, and Katherine waited
serenely for his next words, when Miss Bradley, who had not interrupted
her conversation, or noticed the new-comers in any way, suddenly turned
her face toward them, and said, with something like command, "Mr.
Errington!"
Errington immediately obeyed. Katherine watched them speaking together
for some minutes with a curious sense of discomfort and dissatisfaction.
Miss Bradley's face looked softer and brighter, and a sort of animation
came into her gestures, slight and dignified though they were. They
seemed to have much to say, and said it with a certain amount of
well-bred familiarity. Yes, they were evidently friends; very naturally.
How happy she was to be thus free from any painful consciousness in his
presence! She was as stainless as himself, could look fearlessly in his
eyes and assert herself, while she (Katherine) could only crouch in
profoundest humility, and gratefully gather what crumbs of kindness and
notice he let fall for her benefit. It was quite pitiable to be easily
disturbed by such insignificant circumstances. How pitiably weak she
was! So, with an effort, she turned her attention to Mrs. Needham and
Bertie, who had slipped into an argument, as they often did, respecting
the best and most effective method of dealing with the poor. In this
Katherine joined with somewhat languid interest, quite aware that
Errington and Miss Bradley grew more and more absorbed in their
conversation, till Miss Payne, feeling herself _de trop_, left her place
to speak with Mrs. Needham, while Katherine and Bertie gradually dropped
into silence.
"Miss Bradley's carriage," was soon announced, and she rose tall and
stately, nearly as tall as Errington.
"Will you excuse me for running away so soon, dear Mrs. Needham?" she
said, "but I promised Mrs. Julian Starner to go to her musical party
to-night. I am to play the opening piece of the second part, so I dare
not stay longer. You are going?"--to Errington, who bowed assent. "Then
I can give you a seat in my brougham," she continued, with calm, assured
serenity.
"Thank you," and Errington, turning to Katherine, said quickly: "Will
you let me know when you hear from Newton? I am most anxious as regards
Liddell's decision."
"I will, certainly. Good-night." She put her hand into his, and felt in
some occult manner comfort by the gentle pressure with which he held it
for half a moment. Yes, beaten, defeated, punished as she was, he felt
for her with a noble compassion. Ought not that to be enough?
"Good-night, Miss Liddell. I hope you will come and see me. I am always
at home on Tuesday afternoons; and Miss Payne, when I have seen the
grandmother of the girl we have been speaking about, I will let you
know, and you will kindly take into consideration the points I
mentioned. Good-night." And she swept away, leaning on Errington's arm.
"Now that we are by ourselves," said Mrs. Needham, comfortably, "I must
tell you what I have been proposing to Miss Liddell. I should like you
to know all about it," and she plunged into the subject. "I know it is
but a poor offer," she concluded; "but for the present it is better than
nothing, and she can be on the lookout for something else."
Bertie wisely held his tongue. Katherine declared herself ready and
willing to accept the offer, and Miss Payne, with resolute candor,
declared that the remuneration was miserable, but that it was as well to
be doing something while waiting for a better appointment.
Poor Katherine was terribly distressed by this frankness, but Mrs.
Needham was quite unmoved. She said she saw the force of what Miss
Payne said, but there it was, and it remained with Miss Liddell to take
or leave what she suggested.
Then Miss Payne's prospects came under discussion, and the doubtful
circumstances connected with Miss Bradley's proposition.
"Now it is long past ten o'clock, and we must say good-night," remarked
Miss Payne. "Really, Mrs. Needham, you are a wonderful woman! You have
nearly 'placed' us both. How earnestly I hope there are better and
brighter days before my young friend, whom I shall miss very much!"
"That I am quite sure. Well, she can go and see you as often as you
like. Now tell me, isn't Angela Bradley a splendid creature?"
"She is indeed," murmured Katherine.
"Well, there is a good deal of her," said Miss Payne, with a sniff.
"Not too much for Mr. Errington, I think," exclaimed Mrs. Needham with a
knowing smile. "I fancy that will be a match before the season is over.
It will be a capital thing for Errington. Old Bradley is _im_-mensely
rich, and I am sure Errington is far gone. Well, good-night, my dear
Miss Payne. I am so glad to think I shall have Miss Liddell for a little
while, at all events. You will come the day after to-morrow at ten,
won't you, and help me to regulate some of my papers? Good-night, my
dear, good-night."
Mr. Newton came into his office the afternoon the day following Mrs.
Needham's little dinner. His step was alert and his head erect, as
though he was satisfied with himself and the world. A boy who sat in a
box near the door, to make a note of the flies walking into the spider's
parlor, darted out, saying, "Please sir, Miss Liddell is waiting for
you."
"Is she? Very well." And the old lawyer went quickly along the passage
leading to the other rooms, and opening the door of his own, found
Katherine sitting by the table, a newspaper, which had evidently dropped
from her hand, lying by her on the carpet. She started up to meet her
good friend, who was struck by her pallor and the sad look in her eyes.
"Well, this is lucky!" exclaimed Newton, shaking hands with her
cordially. "I was going to write to you, as I wanted to see you, and
here you are."
"I was just beginning to fear I might be troublesome, but I have been so
anxious."
"Of course you have. And you have been very patient, on the whole.
Well"--laying aside his hat, and rubbing his hands as he sat down--"I
have just come from consulting with Messrs. Compton, and I am very happy
to tell you it is agreed that George Liddell shall withdraw his claim to
the arrears of income, but not to the savings you have effected since
your succession to the property, also the balance standing to your name
at your banker's is not to be interfered with; so I think things are
arranging themselves more favorably, on the whole, than I could have
hoped."
"They are, indeed," cried Katherine, clasping her hands together in
thankfulness. "What an immense relief! I have more than three hundred
pounds in the bank, and I have found employment for the present at
least, so I can use my little income for the boys. How can I thank you,
dear Mr. Newton, for all the trouble you have taken for me?" And she
took his hard, wrinkled hand, pressing it between both hers, and looking
with sweet loving eyes into his.
"I am sure I was quite ready to take any trouble for you, my dear young
lady; but in this matter Mr. Errington has done most of the work. He has
gained a surprising degree of influence over your cousin, who is a very
curious customer; but for him (Mr. Errington, I mean), I fear he would
have insisted on his full rights, which would have been a bad business.
However, that is over now. Nor will Mr. Liddell fare badly. Your savings
have added close on three thousand pounds to the property which falls to
him. I am surprised that he did not try at once to make friends with
you, for his little girl's sake. I hear he is in treaty for a grand
mansion in one of the new streets they are building over at South
Kensington. He is tremendously fond of this little girl of his. It seems
Liddell was awfully cut up at the death of his wife, about a year and a
half ago. He fancies that if he had known of his father's death and his
own succession he would have come home, and the voyage would have saved
her life. This, I rather think, was at the root of his rancor against
you."
"How unjust! how unreasonable!" cried Katherine. "Now tell me of your
interview with Mrs. Ormonde and her husband."
"Well--ah--it was not a very agreeable half-hour. I have seldom seen so
barefaced an exhibition of selfishness. However, I think I brought them
to their senses, certainly Mrs. Ormonde, and I am determined to make
that fellow Ormonde pay something toward the education of his wife's
sons."
"I would rather not have it," said Katherine.
"Nonsense," cried the lawyer, sharply. "You or they are entitled to it,
and you shall have it. Mrs. Ormonde evidently does not want to quarrel
with you, nor is it well for the boys' sake to be at loggerheads with
their mother."
"No, certainly not; but, Mr. Newton, I can never be the same to her
again. I never can forgive her or her husband's ingratitude and want of
feeling."
"Of course not, and they know you will not; still, an open split is to
be avoided. Now, tell me, what is the employment you mentioned?"
Katherine told him, and a long confidential conversation ensued, wherein
she explained her views and intentions, and listened to her old friend's
good advice. Certain communication to Mrs. Ormonde were decided on, as
Katherine agreed with Mr. Newton that she should have no further
personal intercourse concerning business matters with her sister-in-law.
"By-the-way," said Newton, "one of the events of the last few days was a
visit from your protegee, Miss Trant. I was a good deal struck with her.
She is a pretty, delicate-looking girl, yet she's as hard as nails, and
a first-rate woman of business. She seems determined to make your
fortune, for that is just the human touch about her that interested me.
She doesn't talk about it, but her profound gratitude to you is
evidently her ruling motive. I am so persuaded that she will develop a
good business, and that you will ultimately get a high percentage for
the money you have advanced--or, as you thought, almost given--that I am
going to trust her with a little of mine, just to keep the concern free
of debt till it is safely floated."
"How very good of you!" cried Katherine. "And what a proof of your faith
in my friend! How can you call her hard? To me she is most sympathetic."
"Ay, to you. Then you see she seems to have devoted herself to you. To
me she turned a very hard bit of her shell. No matter. I think she is
the sort of woman to succeed. You have not seen her since--since her
visit to me?"
"No. I have not been to see her because--not because I was busy, but
idle and depressed. I will not be so any more. So many friends have been
true and helpful to me that I should be ashamed of feeling depressed. I
will endeavor to prove myself a first-rate secretary, and be a credit to
you, my dear good friend."
"That you will always be, I'm sure," returned Newton, warmly.
"Now you must run away, my dear young lady, for I have fifty things to
do. Your friend Miss Trant will tell you all that passed between us, and
what her plans are."
"I am going to pay her a visit this evening. I do not like to trouble
her either in the morning or afternoon, she is so busy. But I always
enjoy a talk with her. She is really very well informed, and rather
original."
"I believe she will turn out well. Good-by, my dear Miss Liddell. I
assure you, you are not more relieved by the result of the morning's
consultation than I am."