Countess Kate

“I see you are sorry for the exposure last night, so we will say no more about it.  I will try to forget it.  I hope our friends may.”

That hope sounded very much like “I do not think they will;” and truly Kate felt that it was not in the nature of things that they ever should.  She should never have forgotten the sight of a little girl in that frenzy of passion!  No, she was sure that their mamma and papa knew all about it, and that she should never be allowed to play with them again, and she could not even wish to meet them, she should be miserably ashamed, and would not know which way to look.

She said not one word about meeting them, and for the first day or two even begged to walk in the square instead of the park; and she was so good and steady with her lessons, and so quiet in her movements, that she scarcely met a word of blame for a whole week.

One morning, while she was at breakfast with Lady Barbara and Mrs. Lacy, the unwonted sound of a carriage stopping, and of a double knock, was heard.  In a moment the colour flushed into Lady Barbara’s face, and her eyes lighted: then it passed away into a look of sadness.  It had seemed to her for a moment as if the bright young nephew who had been the light and hope of her life, were going to look in on her; and it had only brought the remembrance that he was gone for ever, and that in his stead there was only the poor little girl, to whom rank was a misfortune, and who seemed as if she would never wear it becomingly.  Kate saw nothing of all this; she was only eager and envious for some change and variety in these long dull days.  It was Lord de la Poer and his daughter Adelaide, who the next moment were in the room; and she remembered instantly that she had heard that this was to be Adelaide’s birthday, and wished her many happy returns in all due form, her heart beating the while with increasing hope that the visit concerned herself.

And did it not?  Her head swam round with delight and suspense, and she could hardly gather up the sense of the words in which Lord de la Poer was telling Lady Barbara that Adelaide’s birthday was to be spent at the Crystal Palace at Sydenham; that the other girls were gone to the station with their mother, and that he had come round with Adelaide to carry off Kate, and meet the rest at ten o’clock.  Lady de la Poer would have written, but it had only boon settled that morning on finding that he could spare the day.

Kate squeezed Adelaide’s hand in an agony.  Oh! would that aunt let her go?

“You would like to come?” asked Lord de la Poer, bending his pleasant eyes on her.  “Have you ever been there?”

“Never!  Oh, thank you!  I should like it so much!  I never saw any exhibition at all, except once the Gigantic Cabbage!—May I go, Aunt Barbara?”

“Really you are very kind, after—”

“Oh, we never think of afters on birthdays!—Do we, Addie?”

“If you are so very good, perhaps Mrs. Lacy will kindly bring her to meet you.”

“I am sure,” said he, turning courteously to that lady, “that we should be very sorry to give Mrs. Lacy so much trouble.  If this is to be a holiday to everyone, I am sure you would prefer the quiet day.”

No one could look at the sad face and widow’s cap without feeling that so it must be, even without the embarrassed “Thank you, my Lord, if—”

“If—if Katharine were more to be trusted,” began Lady Barbara.

“Now, Barbara,” he said in a drolly serious fashion, “if you think the Court of Chancery would seriously object, say so at once.”

Lady Barbara could not keep the corners of her mouth quite stiff, but she still said, “You do not know what you are undertaking.”

“Do you deliberately tell me that you think myself and Fanny, to say nothing of young Fanny, who is the wisest of us all, unfit to be trusted with this one young lady?” said he, looking her full in the face, and putting on a most comical air: “It is humiliating, I own.”

“Ah! if Katharine were like your own daughters, I should have no fears,” said the aunt.  “But—  However, since you are so good—if she will promise to be very careful—”

“Oh yes, yes, Aunt Barbara!”

“I make myself responsible,” said Lord de la Poer.  “Now, young woman, run off and get the hat; we have no time to lose.”

Kate darted off and galloped up the stairs at a furious pace, shouted “Josephine” at the top; and then, receiving no answer, pulled the bell violently; after which she turned round, and obliged Adelaide with a species of dancing hug, rather to the detriment of that young lady’s muslin jacket.

“I was afraid to look back before,” she breathlessly said, as she released Adelaide; “I felt as if your papa were Orpheus, when

‘Stern Proserpine relented,
And gave him back the fair—’

and I was sure Aunt Barbara would catch me like Eurydice, if I only looked back.”

“What a funny girl you are, to be thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice!” said Adelaide.  “Aren’t you glad?”

“Glad?  Ain’t I just! as Charlie would say.  Oh dear! your papa is a delicious man; I’d rather have him for mine than anybody, except Uncle Wardour!”

“I’d rather have him than anyone,” said the little daughter.  “Because he is yours,” said Kate; “but somehow, though he is more funny and good-natured than Uncle Wardour, I wouldn’t—no, I shouldn’t like him so well for a papa.  I don’t think he would punish so well.”

“Punish!” cried Adelaide.  “Is that what you want?  Why, Mamma says children ought to be always pleasure and no trouble to busy fathers.  But there, Kate; you are not getting ready—and we are to be at the station at ten.”

“I am waiting for Josephine!  Why doesn’t she come?” said Kate, ringing violently again.

“Why don’t you get ready without her?”

“I don’t know where anything is!  It is very tiresome of her, when she knows I never dress myself,” said Kate fretfully.

“Don’t you?  Why, Grace and I always dress ourselves, except for the evening.  Let me help you.  Are not those your boots?”

Kate rushed to the bottom of the attic stairs, and shouted “Josephine” at the top of her shrill voice; then, receiving no answer, she returned, condescended to put on the boots that Adelaide held up to her, and noisily pulled out some drawers; but not seeing exactly what she wanted, she again betook herself to screams of her maid’s name, at the third of which out burst Mrs. Bartley in a regular state of indignation: “Lady Caergwent!  Will your Ladyship hold your tongue!  There’s Lady Jane startled up, and it’s a mercy if her nerves recover it the whole day—making such a noise as that!”

“But Josephine won’t come, and I’m going out, Bartley,” said Kate piteously.  “Where is Josephine?”

“Gone out, my Lady, so it is no use making a piece of work,” said Bartley crossly, retreating to Lady Jane.

Kate was ready to cry; but behold, that handy little Adelaide had meantime picked out a nice black silk cape, with hat and feather, gloves and handkerchief, which, if not what Kate had intended, were nice enough for anything, and would have—some months ago—seemed to the orphan at the parsonage like robes of state.  Kind Adelaide held them up so triumphantly, that Kate could not pout at their being only everyday things; and as she began to put them on, out came Mrs. Bartley again, by Lady Jane’s orders, pounced upon Lady Caergwent, and made her repent of all wishes for assistance by beginning upon her hair, and in spite of all wriggles and remonstrances, dressing her in the peculiarly slow and precise manner by which a maid can punish a troublesome child; until finally Kate—far too much irritated for a word of thanks, tore herself out of her hands, caught up her gloves, and flew down-stairs as if her life depended on her speed.  She thought the delay much longer than it had really been, for she found Lord de la Poer talking so earnestly to her aunt, that he hardly looked up when she came in—something about her Uncle Giles in India, and his coming home—which seemed to be somehow becoming possible—though at a great loss to himself; but there was no making it out; and in a few minutes he rose, and after some fresh charges from Lady Barbara to her niece “not to forgot herself,” Kate was handed into the carriage, and found herself really off.

Then the tingle of wild impatience and suspense subsided, and happiness began!  It had not been a good beginning, but it was very charming now.

Adelaide and her father were full of jokes together, so quick and bright that Kate listened instead of talking.  She had almost lost the habit of merry chatter, and it did not come to her quickly again; but she was greatly entertained; and thus they came to the station, where Lady de la Poer and her other three girls were awaiting them, and greeted Kate with joyful faces.

They were the more relieved at the arrival of the three, because the station was close and heated, and it was a very warm summer day, so that the air was extremely oppressive.

“It feels like thunder,” said some one.  And thenceforth Kate’s perfect felicity was clouded.  She had a great dislike to a thunder-storm, and she instantly began asking her neighbours if they really thought it would be thunder.

“I hope it will,” said Lady Fanny; “it would cool the air, and sound so grand in those domes.”

Kate thought this savage, and with an imploring look asked Lady de la Poer if she thought there would be a storm.

“I can’t see the least sign of one,” was the answer.  “See how clear the sky is!” as they steamed out of the station.

“But do you think there will be one to-day?” demanded Kate.

“I do not expect it,” said Lady de la Poer, smiling; “and there is no use in expecting disagreeables.”

“Disagreeables!  O Mamma, it would be such fun,” cried Grace, “if we only had a chance of getting wet through!”

Here Lord de la Poer adroitly called off the public attention from the perils of the clouds, by declaring that he wanted to make out the fourth line of an advertisement on the banks, of which he said he had made out one line as he was whisked by on each journey he had made; and as it was four times over in four different languages, he required each damsel to undertake one; and there was a great deal of laughing over which it should be that should undertake each language.  Fanny and Mary were humble, and sure they could never catch the German; and Kate, more enterprising, undertook the Italian.  After all, while they were chattering about it, they went past the valuable document, and were come in sight of the “monsters” in the Gardens; and Lord de la Poer asked Kate if she would like to catch a pretty little frog; to which Mary responded, “Oh, what a tadpole it must have been!” and the discovery that her friends had once kept a preserve of tadpoles to watch them turn into frogs, was so delightful as entirely to dissipate all remaining thoughts of thunder, and leave Kate free for almost breathless amazement at the glittering domes of glass, looking like enormous bubbles in the sun.

What a morning that was, among the bright buds and flowers, the wonders of nature and art all together!  It was to be a long day, and no hurrying; so the party went from court to court at their leisure, sat down, and studied all that they cared for, or divided according to their tastes.  Fanny and Mary wanted time for the wonderful sculptures on the noble gates in the Italian court; but the younger girls preferred roaming more freely, so Lady de la Poer sat down to take care of them, while her husband undertook to guide the wanderings of the other three.

He particularly devoted himself to Kate, partly in courtesy as to the guest of the party, partly because, as he said, he felt himself responsible for her; and she was in supreme enjoyment, talking freely to one able and willing to answer her remarks and questions, and with the companionship of girls of her own age besides.  She was most of all delighted with the Alhambra—the beauty of it was to her like a fairy tale; and she had read Washington Irving’s “Siege of Granada,” so that she could fancy the courts filled with the knightly Moors, who were so noble that she could not think why they were not Christians—nay, the tears quite came into her eyes as she looked up in Lord de la Poer’s face, and asked why nobody converted the Abencerrages instead of fighting with them!