Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 2 (of 3), Mrs. Alexander [best sci fi novels of all time txt] 📗

divers and sundry articles thrust into it, at the last moment, and secured by a red silk handkerchief.

"Yes," returned Winter, in reply to Kate's observation, "we were a merry trio; but we little anticipated the adventure you contrived to get up."

"It was all very curious," said Kate, with a sigh, as her thoughts flew back to that pleasant evening, and its still pleasanter d�nou�ment.

[116]

A shrill, piercing whistle! The porters stood, not to their arms, but to their trunks.

"Up-train coming," said one of them, warningly, to our little party.

"Now then, don't be in a hurry, Colonel—get the tickets all right," said Winter; and the huge, hissing, relentless monster of an engine, rushed panting by the platform. "Do you get in and settle yourselves, Colonel; Mrs. O'Toole and I will see to the luggage."

The Colonel obeyed; but Kate stood by the carriage door. Winter soon bustled back, and in more than usually husky tones, observed—

"All right—there goes the bell."

"Dearest Mrs. Winter," cried Kate, clasping that worthy little woman in her arms; "good bye;" and the tears she had long, with difficulty, restrained, poured down her cheeks; then turning to the kind, rough artist, she, somewhat to his surprise, bestowed an equally affectionate embrace on him, with such childlike simplicity and sincere feeling, that he was[117] inexpressibly touched. "My kind love to Mr. Gilpin; and, I need hardly say, take care of Cormac."

"God bless you, dear Kate," from both the Winters, and she was hurried into the carriage, where nurse was already seated. A jerk back, and then forward, and they were swept away from the kind faces that looked so eagerly after them.

As long as the neighbouring scenery presented any familiar features, Kate looked mournfully and wistfully through the window; but soon, too soon, they were flying beyond the limits of her longest walks; and when the distant height, crowned by Mowbray Castle, longest visible, because the highest point in the surrounding country, disappeared, she dismissed her regrets, turned resolutely from the contemplation of past happiness, and determined to let no selfish grief, no personal consideration whatever intervene between her[118] heart and its great task. Comforting and supporting her grandfather.

"And you feel quite well, quite comfortable, dear grandfather."

"Yes, love. Why, this is as good as any private carriage; you know I am quite a novice in rail-road travelling. How do you like it, Nelly?"

"Faith, an' it's an illigant coach intirely; but, Miss Kate, jewel, did iver ye see anything so fast as the hedges do be runnin'?"

"Yes," laughed the Colonel, "London will be down here presently!"

There is little ever to relate of a journey by rail—at least, at the time of which we write, when excursion trains and concussions were not quite such every-day events as in 1851-2. Little occurred to vary the even tenor of their course. Speed was slackened, bells rung, and incomprehensible names bawled out at the due number of stations. One or two companions[119] were added to, and diminished from their number, with whom the Colonel entered, urbanely, into conversation, and, about two o'clock, offered them refreshment, from Mrs. Winter's well-stored basket, which was thankfully accepted by his fellow-travellers, who set him down, in their private opinions, as some condescending nobleman of philanthropic habits, and enjoyed his sandwiches and sherry with redoubled go�t. Could they have known, he was a broken gentleman, and an Irish one to boot, how soon "urbane condescension" would have changed, to pushing forwardness, and the gracious offer of a sandwich, to some deep design of getting up an acquaintance, with ulterior objects possibly still more dreadful.

At length, the closer ranks of houses and increasing hubbub of hissing engines, and departing trains, warned them, they were fast approaching the great metropolis.

The quiet and ease of their journey was at[120] an end, the moment they stepped from the retirement of the carriage into the bustling confusion of the platform, beyond which a line of cabs were drawn up, the length of which positively appalled Kate, as indicative of the immense crowd amongst whom they would have to struggle for their luggage. The additional difficulty of darkness was superadded to those already arising from crowd and hurry; for they had not left A—— until considerably past noon.

"Och, Holy Virgin! how are we iver to get the thrunks in sich a scrimmige!" ejaculated Mrs. O'Toole.

"We must look for the van they put them in at A——," said Kate, who was trembling with nervous anxiety, and depressed, at feeling how unfitted she was for so bustling a scene.

"Jest don't be walkin off wid the masther's portmanty," said Mrs. O'Toole, laying a vigorous grasp on the arm of a railway porter.

"Is this here yer's?"

[121]

"Yes, an' so is the black wan, an' the wan wid the leather cover in the van, &c."

And soon the civil and expeditious porters had placed all their luggage in a goodly pile.

"Now," said the Colonel, "for the transit to Bayswater."

"Cab, sir?"

"Yes, two."

The Colonel and Kate led the way with their light parcels, and nurse followed with an overflowing cargo.

It is a strange sensation, that of whirling through unknown streets by gas light. The complete ignorance of where you are going, the seemingly miraculous facility with which you are whisked round innumerable turnings, the flaring gas-light before the meaner shops, and short intervals of gloomy, respectable quarters.

Kate felt all this strongly, and sat gazing at the busy crowded streets, holding her grandfather's hand, and scarcely breathing. It[122] seemed as though she had never felt the changes that had occurred in their lot before, and wearied by the journey, and the busy days that preceded it, she experienced that dread fluttering sensation, half fear, half excitement that made her long, oh, how intensely, for some familiar face to welcome them, some strong calm friend into whose arms she might throw herself, and feel safe.

But, "fate forbid such things to be," and a curtseying landlady received them in all the glories of an "afternoon toilette," with an elaborate front, cunningly secured with three rows of narrow black velvet round the head, and a profusion of cherry-colored ribbons in her cap.

"Here, Hester, carry up the carpet bags; Mr. Langley was here to-day ma'am, and said we might hexpect you about height o'clock, but it's near nine now; what would you please to take? I'll have candles lighted in a moment."

[123]

And she ushered them into a small parlour, furnished with a most obdurate looking horse-hair sofa, six horse hair chairs, ranged round the walls, an impracticable arm chair, and a small round table, covered with a bright red cloth; a diminutive looking glass over the mantel-piece, on which were displayed a few cheap ornaments, and a chiffonnier of mock rose-wood, with warped doors, completed the inventory.

"Tea, I think, Kate, will be the most acceptable refreshment. If you will be so good as to let us have some tea, Mrs. Mrs. ——."

The Colonel paused.

"Crooks," said the amiable lady.

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Crooks."

"Certainly, sir," and she retired, as the servant entered, with two tall candles, unsteadily thrust into very short candlesticks.

It is unnecessary to describe the wretchedness of such an arrival, the total derangement of all established comforts, and London lodging-house tea and milk! and the professional ra[124]pidity, with which the servant clatters down the plates, and deals out the knives, the ill-cleaned Britannia metal tea-pot, the pale, market looking butter, all, all so unlike home.

Nurse, who had taken Miss Vernon's sac de nuit, to her room, now came to the rescue.

"Ah, don't be breakin yer heart sthrivin to make tay, an' the wather not half biled. There," smelling the tea which Kate had put out, and setting it down with a look of disgust. "Athen, 'tis little iv ye kem from Chayney, any how. Sure I put a dust iv the rale sort into me ban-box the last thing, an it's well them villains at that moiderin Station, didn't lose it an' me box' an all, have a taste iv buthered toast, here, me good girl, just bile up that kittle, an when it's bilin mad, run up wid it; stay, I'll go down meself."

And Mrs. O'Toole prepared them a very refreshing cup of tea, which they insisted on her sharing; and largely did she contribute to enliven their first repast in the mighty metro[125]polis, by her shrewd, caustic remarks on the various little events of their journey.

"Sure it's so quiet, we might think ourselves in the Priory," she said, after a pause. "Another bit of toast, Miss Kate, ye'r white wid the journey, and the scrimmage, alanah."

"Yes," replied the Colonel, "it is singularly quiet here."

"But listen to that distant, continuous roar," said Kate, "what is it?" she asked of the girl, who was removing the tea things.

"Plase ma'am it's the 'busses."

They were located in one of the numerous "Albert Groves," or "Victoria Terraces," which congregate near, and diverge from the main Bayswater Road.

After some more desultory conversation, the little party retired to the rest they so much needed. Kate and nurse first carefully arranging the Colonel's room; but long after she had laid her head on the hard and diminutive lodging-house pillow, Kate's busy fancy kept[126] sleep aloof—the fact that she was actually in London, was almost incredible, that the dreaded parting with the Winters, and the Priory—the terrible exchange of all the sweet sanctities of home, for the uncertainties and insecurity of lodgings—that all this so long anticipated, was absolutely accomplished; and that from this time forward, a new world of action—of reality—of sober, stern existence, lay before her. Such thoughts as these were potent enemies to sleep. Then her last visit to the great city, and its gaieties, and studies presented themselves; and Lady Desmond's probable return—followed by a natural chain of associations; and finally, the Priory, with its pretty garden; and the neighbouring woods, in all their glories of autumn—as they looked the day she found Fred Egerton seated with her grandfather, rose before her mind's eye; and all the pleasant incidents of that happy time, unrolled themselves before her—clearly at first, but, at length strangely mingled[127] with memories of Dungar, and older days still. Once or twice she strove to reunite the broken chain of thought; but slowly they all faded, and the hours of a short summer's night sped on their way; and gradually her spirit woke from the first, deep sleep that fell upon it; and wearied by the heaviness that had of late weighed it down, fled joyously to the scenes of its early childhood; and summoned to its side, the friends it loved—until a flood of morning sunshine pouring into her room, woke her; and her eyes fell upon the broad comely countenance of Mrs. O'Toole.

"Athen, the blessin' iv Christ on ye, jewel; sure the angels was whisperin' to ye in Heaven—ye wor smilin' so swate in your sleep."

"Oh, nurse, why did you awake me? so soon I mean."

"Soon," ejaculated Mrs. O'Toole, "sure it's nine o'clock, so it is, an' you that was always up at seven—"

[128]

"Nine! is it possible? But, nurse, are morning dreams always true?"

"Sure, I told ye so a hundred times, an' ye always laughed at me, was it dreamin' ye wor, alanah?"

"Yes; of Dungar, and of such strange—but go, dear nurse—I will ring soon for you. Have you seen grandpapa this morning? How did you sleep yourself?"

"He's not rung his bell yet; an' I was as snug as any duchess."

To Kate's infinite delight, morning displayed a garden, some ten feet square, in front of their new abode, sufficient to satisfy the elastic conscience of the builder, in calling the row of houses, in which it was situated, "Victoria Gardens." True, it was not in that perfection of keeping, so grateful to eyes susceptible of the beautiful; but still the green of a few ragged lilacs, and laburnums, with the perfume of a mignionette bed, was most refreshing; and so much better than anything she[129] had ventured to hope for—that she felt inexpressibly cheered.

The Colonel too, had slept well—at least, till daylight, when he had been rather disturbed by the screams of a parrot, a great pet, Mrs. O'Toole informed them, of their landlady. Breakfast over, and the Times, secured for her grandfather, Kate was soon immersed in a long, confidential letter to Winter and his wife.

Their late breakfast had encroached, more than she thought, upon the morning, and she felt surprise when the landlady announced Mr. Langley; and Winter's old friend entered. He was a long, pale man, with lightish hair, and whey coloured whiskers; his manners, cold and shy, impressed Kate with an uneasy feeling, that it would be impossible to set him at ease.

"Very much obliged by your early visit," said the Colonel, rising, with his usual suave cordiality. "We have to thank you for pro[130]curing for us, such comfortable apartments—my granddaughter, Miss Vernon."

Mr. Langley bowed, and in so doing, upset a ricketty chair, whereupon, he endeavoured to restore it to its former position, and in the struggle, dropped his hat and gloves; at last his composure a little restored, by the graciousness of his new acquaintances, he gathered courage to ask, coldly, after Winter, and still more slightly for his wife, to which the Colonel replied, by giving very copious details, of their friends, and Kate thought he listened with more interest than he ventured to express in words; some general conversation then ensued—their journey, and