Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 1 (of 3) by Mrs. Alexander (any book recommendations .txt) 📕

"Ah! Egerton, I have just been to your hotel, they told me you had gone out only a few minutes before, and I thought it likely you would make your way over here; I met Winter, Kate, and he dragged me off to pass sentence on a pony he wants to buy, which he described as a quiet, gentle animal Mrs. Winter might herself drive; but I saw at a glance that the creature was blind of one eye, at least, and I strongly suspect he is broken winded; however, I rather fancy Winter has set his heart on the purchase, for the pony has a shaggy picturesque appearance, and would look charmingly in a sketch, with a few autumnal trees. Oh! I feel a little fagged;—and have you done much in the way of sketching, this morning, Egerton?"

"No, indeed, Colonel, I do not feel sufficiently at home here yet; I have not got my eye familiarised to the style of the place; I intend to make[Pg 123] great progress to-morrow. I cannot tell you how charmed I am with this old town, it is so utterly dissimilar to Carrington, and its abominations."

"Ah!" said the Colonel, "the tone of society is not very thorough-bred there, I suppose; but are you quite just in judging the worthy citizens, by a standard they were never intended either by nature or art to reach?"

"That is a question I have never asked myself, and probably never shall."

"Good breeding," continued Colonel Vernon, "must be innate often; there's Winter, you see, he has evidently risen from the ranks, yet one feels at ease in his society, and free from all chance of his rubbing you up the wrong way, as parvenus are apt to do."

"Winter belongs to a class distinct from, and superior to class distinctions."

"We are allies, from this moment, Captain Egerton," said Miss Vernon.

"By the way, Kate, Mrs. Winter wants you[Pg 124] to drink tea with her this evening; I have promised for you and myself," observed her grandfather.

"Of course, I like to drink tea at the abbey gardens; everything is so pleasant and friendly; are you to be of our party, Captain Egerton?"

"I am happy to say, yes."

"Then you had better join our early dinner, for Winter piques himself on keeping continental hours, and I believe his tea is considerably earlier than a London dejeun�r" said the Colonel.

"Many thanks, my dear sir, but I have already eaten a substantial luncheon, and intend acquitting myself with credit at Mrs. Winter's tea table."

"Oh!" said Miss Vernon, laughing, "some prophetic vision must have warned you, that she is famous for hot cakes."

"New style of life this, eh! Egerton?"

"I enjoy it extremely, and you Colonel. I cannot fancy any thing more opposite to your life in Ireland."

[Pg 125]

"True, true," he replied, "yet I am very happy. Then, at my age, a placid routine, unexciting, and calm, is naturally congenial; I sometimes wish for a little more fellow-feeling on particular points than Winter or even Gilpin can offer me. Kate is generally a great sympathiser, but I confess, my dear Egerton, that a little chat with you on old times and topics does me infinite good."

"Captain Egerton says he will come back soon again, grandpapa, and bring me some sketches he has of dear Dungar."

"A treasure trove, Kate! But must you leave us so immediately?"

"I regret to say my leave expires to-morrow evening; I must return to Carrington, but will take the last train, half-past eight I think; and now I will say good-bye until this evening, Colonel. I want to get a few more outlines into my portfolio before Mrs. Winter's hot cakes are ready. Au revoir, Miss Vernon."

The Colonel and Cormac accompanied me to[Pg 126] the door, which Nurse opened with a gracious smile. "Not a step further, Colonel Vernon, you are fatigued; Mrs. O'Toole, I commend the Colonel to your care, adieu." And as I walked away I heard confused and glowing eulogiums pronounced by Mrs. O'Toole on some person or persons unknown, in which she seemed to dwell particularly on the facility of distinguishing between "The rale ould ancient stock, and ye'r musherooms," terms of approbation my vanity somehow or other appropriated, though the connection was by no means clear.

With military punctuality I was raising the well burnished brass knocker which adorned Winter's door as the cathedral clock chimed six. A trim little damsel answered the summons, and informed me with a rather frightened air, that "Missis was in." She ushered me up stairs to a large, handsomely furnished room, where sat Mrs. Winter in the identical cap she had worn at the ball. I could have sworn to it in any court in the kingdom.

[Pg 127]

She received me with the slight nervousness of manner I had before observed, but we had hardly exchanged salutations when Winter appeared, and carried me off to his studio. "While there was any light," he said, "it was well worth a visit." Studies of trees in every season, architectural drawings of great beauty, rugged old men and women, rosy chubby children, some few strong deep subjects—a mine of pictorial wealth; and the grand characteristic of each and all was truth; nothing seemed beneath his pencil, nor a single object misplaced on his canvas. I felt that a glance at his studio revealed the man more than the most elaborate description of his character could have done. I began to understand his views of imagination.

Mr. Winter had just pronounced it becoming too dark to judge fairly his productions, when the little maid entered and informed him that tea and the company were waiting; we returned to the drawing room, where we found the Colonel and Miss Vernon, Gilpin, and a tall dried up looking[Pg 128] woman in a yellow turban, assembled round a large table, which groaned, or ought to have groaned, under piles of delicately brown hot cakes, multitudes of little round pats of butter, each adorned with a cowslip in bas relief, and a massive tea equipage. There was a cheerful buzz of conversation, with a pleasant accompaniment of hissing from a portly tea urn that sent forth volumes of steam.

The gentlemen rose to greet us, and Winter, passing to the turbanned lady, expressed his pleasure at seeing her, adding—

"I do not think you know Miss Cox, Captain Egerton? The Honourable Captain Egerton; Miss Araminta Cox."

Somewhat to my surprise the lady gave herself the trouble of rising to make me a profound curtsey. I secured a seat between Mrs. Winter and Kate, and joined in the general conversation, which took a very merry turn on our appearance, in consequence of Winter having discovered that Kate and Gilpin had been wofully taken in about some old stone inscribed with Saxon or[Pg 129] Runic characters, they had raved of for a week, and which turned out to be frightfully modern. Kate, however, retaliated by quizzing him on his intended purchase of a pony, more fit for a picture than a phaeton; and clapped her hands in triumph, when Winter disclosed the fact that, contrary to the Colonel's warning, he had absolutely completed the purchase. Much laughter and ingenuity were called forth by these rival charges, but we all found the gravity and earnestness with which Winter repelled Kate's attacks upon his new steed irresistible.

"At all events, Mr. Winter, it is not half so disgraceful to be cheated by an almost obliterated inscription on a stone, as to be taken in by a horse-dealer. We deceived ourselves, but you have not even that consolation; you fell a victim to the devices of a groom," concluded Kate, pushing her chair from the tea-table, and rising.

"Per di Bacco!" exclaimed Winter thickly, and with the greatest energy, "the Colonel is mistaken; I tested the eyes; I tied a handkerchief[Pg 130] over the best looking of the two and led him up and down, and he walked, sir, without the slightest hesitation! Tell me he is minus an eye after that!"

We received this conclusive evidence with a roar of laughter that disturbed the murmured conference Mrs. Winter and Miss Cox had maintained during our argument, fragments of which had reached my ears occasionally, indicating strong disapprobation of some unhappy individuals.

"Do you play whist, Captain Egerton?" enquired our hostess, as the trim damsel was removing the goodly array which had suffered considerably under our united efforts.

"Hardly ever, Mrs. Winter; and when I do I get so rowed by my partners that I am glad to abandon the attempt altogether."

"We generally make up a whist table; the Colonel and Mr. Winter like a rubber."

"Do you play, Miss Vernon?"

"Yes, with a degree of science seldom equalled;[Pg 131] therefore I rarely honour Mrs. Winter's whist table."

"We'll have that trio first, Miss Vernon," rejoined Mr. Winter. "Gilpin get the flute ready."

During the little bustle of bringing flute and violin into tune with the piano, I approached the performers.

"How did you like the hot cakes?" asked Kate.

"I think I gave ocular demonstration of my opinion," I replied, laughing.

"What are you going to play?"

"Prendi l'anell' ti dono."

"I thought that was a duet?"

"So it is; the flute and violin take first and second, the piano is a mere accompaniment; you will be pleased with it."

"How droll Winter is! His experiment on the pony was truly original."

"Yes, and his habit of pointing his discourse with foreign exclamations; he acquired the habit abroad, and complains he cannot do without expletives to express his feelings, but that[Pg 132] English oaths are too blasphemous, while all the people in A—— are firmly convinced that his strange outbursts are far too bad to be translated."

"Now then, Miss Vernon," said Mr. Winter, "if you have finished that conference with Captain Egerton—"

"Maestro mio, I am ready."

Winter gave a flourish of his bow and stamped his foot; Miss Vernon played a brilliant prelude, and they began.

I sat in a pleasant dreamy state, listening to the music, and indistinctly observing there was something wanting in Mr. Winter's handsome drawing room that Kate Vernon's had; as if neatness was there kept in her proper position of handmaid to the Graces; but here she appeared to have risen up against her mistresses, and driven them out of doors with a duster! I was disturbed from this placid state of mind by the nodding of Miss Araminta Cox's yellow turban most distractingly out of tune; and finding it in[Pg 133]supportable I was about to change my position, when the performance came to a conclusion.

The whist party now arranged themselves, leaving the piano to Kate, Gilpin, and myself; and after a little desultory conversation Miss Vernon acceded to our request for a song.

"The Serenade," I petitioned.

"You will be tired of that; I will give you a newer song." And she sung us a little sparkling Neapolitan air full of expression and piquancy. Winter had brought it from Italy, she said, and then we talked of his studio, and his whims, and then we glanced at national characteristics, and a hundred pleasant general topics. I felt surprised at the current of deep thought that flowed through all the organist said; there was much originality, too, in his observations; altogether our talk insensibly assumed a grave tone, yet it was interesting, for we were not making conversation. The conviction that my companions viewed life differently from myself somewhat inclined me to silence. They seemed to possess in themselves[Pg 134] some source of internal satisfaction, of constant interest, unaccountable to me, and utterly dissimilar to the alternations of feverish excitement and profound ennui in which my days and those of almost all my companions were passed.

Meanwhile the whist party progressed, with an occasional outburst from, and overhauling of the tricks by, Winter, and divers complimentary remarks from the Colonel to the ladies; finally a tray of sandwiches and wine and water ended the entertainment.

"What is the name of the white pony, Mr. Winter?" said Kate.

"Whatever you like."

"Spatter the Dew," suggested the Colonel.

"That is quite poetical, grandpapa."

"My father had a horse called Toby," said Miss Araminta Cox in a mincing voice.

"Cyclops, they say, had only one eye," I observed.

"I tell you he has the use of two," said Winter hastily.

[Pg 135]

"That is not quite clear, and Cyclops is a fine sounding name," said Kate, "I vote for Cyclops, and I shall drink his health in a glass of your gooseberry wine, Mr. Winter."

"Cyclops, be it then," sighed Winter resignedly. "Captain Egerton, you must drink Miss Vernon's toast, but not in her beverage; here's some port wine I'll answer for, I bought it myself in Oporto." We all drank success to Cyclops, and bidding our kind host and hostess good night, strolled home by moonlight. Ah! a delicious