Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 1 (of 3) by Mrs. Alexander (any book recommendations .txt) ๐
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- Author: Mrs. Alexander
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"True, true, oh! hard of heart; yet with me it would be a sacred thing. No, do not put it away yet. Oh! skill in portrait painting is the only talent really worth cultivating. I wish to Heaven I had it! Winter, in the whole category of human ills, is there one can surpass the wretchedness of saying good bye?"
[Pg 266]
"Yes, regret, when too late, that you did not say it. Capitano mio, ๏ฟฝ meglio sdrucciolar' co' piedi che colla lingua."
The kind little artist was enchanted with the picture I brought him. It was a monk kneeling before an altar, on which the candles were burning, and the light and shade were skilfully disposed; he shook my hand repeatedly, and plunged into a learned disquisition as to the probable master by whom it was painted: he immediately invited the whole party at the Priory to dine with him, in order to discuss fully the important question of placing my gift, which he designated by the name of the giver rather incongruously.
I waited to give Kate "Proverbial Philosophy" till I could find her alone; and returning one morning from a visit to Gilpin, I found the Colonel had disappeared on some behest, and Miss Vernon in solitary possession of the drawing-room; she was working something in a frame,[Pg 267] but the open piano proved she had been engaged in her favourite pursuit.
I threw myself into the Colonel's chair, and answered her enquiries for Gilpin; then, after a pause, stood up, and leaning against the mantel piece, said, "Miss Vernon, I met with a book in London I thought would suit you; 'Proverbial Philosophy,' have you seen it? I thought you would like it."
She stretched out her hand to receive the volume.
"Is it for me? Oh thank you! I have so much wished to have it; I shall read it with pleasure, I am sure, and give many a grateful thought to the donor."
"That is more than I would presume to expect, and I suspect the pains or pleasures of memory will fall to my share."
"No, it is those who stay at home who remember best; new scenes bring new thoughts; but I wish, Captain Egerton, we could see you start with better spirits on your travels."
[Pg 268]
"Higher spirits! how can you suppose I do not grudge every moment that brings the hour of separation nearer?"
She looked up at me as I stood leaning moodily against the mantel-piece.
"But all men must some time or other go forth amongst strangers, and few seem to regret it as you do."
"Not when they leave behind all they covet on earthโnot when they must go in silence and say good bye, with a calm face and a breaking heart?"
"Oh!" cried Miss Vernon, clasping her hands, "that is terrible! God comfort such a sorrow! but at your age there is always hope; you will return, and what are a few years to a true heart?"
"I may return too late and"โ
The door opened, and most opportunely the Colonel came in, for Kate was beginning to look at me with a certain startled expression, as if the truth was dawning on her, when accident, not my own self-command, saved me from breaking[Pg 269] through the line of conduct I had myself laid down.
The next day was Christmas Day, and I knelt once more beside Kate Vernon in the old church, and heard her rich sweet notes as she joined in responses, or breathed the "Amen." And I felt the quiet absorbed attention with which she joined in the service communicate something of its earnestness to myself.
Mrs. O'Toole came in after we returned from church to show herself in her scarlet shawl.
"It's a grand colour entirely," said she, "as warm as your own heart, Captin jewil, an' it's the hard word to say good bye to ye; sorra one of me, but the salt tears is in me eyes when I think iv it."
Gilpin and the Winters dined with us that day; we had a pleasant cheerful dinner; I was determined to enjoy myself if possible, but it would not do, I was but seeming after all. I felt each passing moment was deepening the lines of my character; no wonder that the strongest exertion[Pg 270] of my self command only sufficed to silence any expression that might damp my companions' mirth, but could not enable me to add my quota to the general stock; my only consolation was to look at Kate's smooth calm brow, and thank Heaven I had never attempted to raise any feeling in her breast, that could have resulted in the aching sadness which oppressed my own; she might have loved me, for hers was too loving a nature to be insensible of affection, and a true and earnest heart is always worth any woman's acceptance; and as I met her ready, unconcealed, and sympathising glance, that often and openly sought mine, I breathed a silent ejaculation, "God preserve her from sorrow and suffering!"
We had a good deal of music, much of it sacred, and appropriate to the day; but before we separated Kate sang the "Land of the Stranger;" it is little more than recitative, but the expression with which she sang it, and her full clear honied notes!โoh how impossible to write down, in so many measured words, the strong tide of[Pg 271] mingled emotions and passionate wishes which swept across my soul as I listened to that voice!
But I will not dwell any longer on these last sweet painful days. Now, even now, writing in all the sobered calm of older years, I find my pen hurrying on in the vain effort to depict what language cannot convey.
Winter invited us to spend my last evening with him; I would have preferred far to have spent it uninterruptedly at the Priory, but it was not so! At the little supper, which as usual closed the entertainment, our good host proposed my health as follows:โ
"I know you'll agree that the toast I'm about to give is one we can all drink with unalloyed satisfaction. I give you the health of one who has passed through the fire of fashion and frivolity, and yet kept a corner of his heart for truth and reality, and preserved enough of good taste to turn from a clique, of which I may fairly say, O t' ha ingannato, o ingannar ti vuole, to the more tangible world of action; one to whom[Pg 272] we owe the existence of a valued friend (Carramba! Gilpin, it would have been all over with you but for him); in a word I give you, 'Fred Egerton.'"
The toast was most enthusiastically received, even Miss Vernon clapped her hands approvingly; I made an appropriate acknowledgment, and soon after, apropos to my new Regiment, Kate turned to me and said, "By the bye I always forgot to tell you, Nurse has a son in the 26th Lancers; pray do not forget to give Denis O'Toole opportunities of distinguishing himself. I have written a letter for her to him, which I will give you to-morrow."
And the parting moment came fast, too fast.
"Well, good bye, my dear Egerton," said the Colonel, grasping my hand in both of his, which shook a little, "in all human probability I shall never see you more; take an old man's blessing with you."
"I can never forget the happy days I have spent with you, my dear sir; I will write from[Pg 273] Bombayโif I have time, from Alexandria. Do not let me quite escape your memory!"
I took Kate's hand, I ventured to hold it in both of mineโI could utter no word, but gazed long and silently into her sweet, calm eyes: she looked pale, but seemed perfectly composed.
"God bless you, Captain Egerton, and make you happy," she said, in a somewhat unsteady voice.
I turned and left the room without a word!
"Christ shield ye from harm, captin jewil," sobbed Mrs. O'Toole, "don't be down-hearted entirely, sure there's many a prayer goes wid ye, an' the coldest hour is the hour before daydawn. Holy Mary keep ye, an' don't forget the letther for me poor boy."
"Nurse, dear Nurse, good-bye, I'll take care of your son."
And my last glimpse of the Priory gate showed me Mrs. O'Toole with her apron to her eyes, and Cormac looking uneasily after me.
Another day, and I stood at the stern of the[Pg 274] steamer which was rapidly cleaving the smooth waters, straining my eyes after the quickly vanishing land, my arms folded tightly on my chest, as if to press down the bitterness that swelled my heart into the stern stillness of manful endurance: all the events of the last four months, even to their minuti๏ฟฝ, stood clear before me; and as the distant outline of the land I was leavingโprobably for everโfaded from my sight, and I felt the keen pang that in leaving it I left my all, which has rent many a heart, Kate Vernon's words flashed back upon my memoryโ"I am quite sure that a stedfast resignation to what you have brought upon yourself; an unmurmuring struggle to retrieve, will work its own cure;" and I slowly turned to go below, feeling how great was the change wrought in me since life presented no deeper ill than an unlucky change of quarters.
END OF VOL. I.
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The author "Mrs. Alexander" is a pseudonym for Annie French Hector (confirmed by information in the British Library).
Minor punctuation and printer errors were repaired.
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