Said I, laughing, and too much elated at the week's freedom and enjoyment before me to be damped by his lugubrious tone. We shook hands, and I left him whistling with a reflective air.
I little thought where we would meet again.
CHAPTER VII.
MAN PROPOSES, GOD DISPOSES.
Though I loitered about at the Hotel as much as possible, I found I had made the usual mistake of impatient people; wasted as much time by too rapid as by too slow a movement; and it still wanted some minutes to twelve o'clock when I took the now familiar path to the Priory, smiling to myself at the natural home-like feeling with which I looked forward to seeing them all again. It is extraordinary what rapid strides to intimacy sympathy enables one to make! All was profoundly still in the churchyard as I opened the wicket and bent my head to enter the low arch. All looked as neat and well kept as ever.
Nurse answered my ring, in bonnet and cloak, and welcomed me with a joyous "Ah! Captin jew'l, is it yerself that's in it?"
Her loud exclamations brought Miss Vernon to the drawing-room door. She paused for a moment; and, then advancing, seconded nurse's greeting very warmly.
"We did not expect you quite so soon; and grandpapa has gone with Mr. Winter to look at a farm of his a little way out of the town; I hope Cyclops will not upset them," she added, laughing. "I am so glad you are come."
"And I have been counting the hours till I escaped from Carrington to the ecclesiastical repose of your retreat," said I, following her into the the drawing room, as usual redolent of flowers.
"You are the most tranquilly disposed Dragoon I ever met," she returned; "but I see you have got your portfolio."
"Yes, I have brought you the sketches you wished for."
"Oh, thank you, Captain Egerton, it is so good of you; you do not know what pleasure you give me; let me look at them."
"Here is a view of the house from the east."
"Oh yes, yes, how like! that was my school room window, and the flower garden down here. Nurse must see this; come here, Nurse."
Mrs. O'Toole came at the call.
"Did you ever see any place like that?" asked her young mistress.
"Musha, then it makes me heart sore to look at it there, an' the rale place so far away," said Nurse, crossing herself. "Och! God be with ould times! The blessin' of Heaven rest on ye, Dungar! Many's the bright day I seen in ye! Och! Miss Kate, avourneen, look at the little garden gate, where we used to go listen to Paddy Doolan's fairy tales, an' the crather so dirty I darn't let him up into the house; an' the Captin dhrew it himself!"
Here Mrs. O'Toole ceased her comments, perceiving from her young lady's silence, and glistening eyes, that her memory was even more vividly awakened.
"There is the old church yard where the people were so fond of burying their relatives; with a peep at the round tower," said I, substituting a less "home" scene, to assist her in recovering herself. "Do you recognise this view? the cliffs near the shore, and the broad Atlantic, with the Cruakmore hills in the distance?"
"Oh yes, yes! and this one; look, Nurse, the dingle, and Andy the fisherman."
"The Lord save us, is'nt the very moral of Andy; the ould thief, to have a right honourable drawing him."
"Very rude sketches, Miss Vernon; I was then even a greater tyro than now."
"They are worth whole galleries of Raphaels and Titians to me," said she with a sigh.
My sketch of the view from the window was much admired; Miss Vernon pronounced it excellent, quite worthy of Mr. Winter's approval. After a few more remarks, I observed that I would not detain her, as I perceived she was in walking costume.
"We were going across the river," she replied, "on an errand I should like to accomplish; what are you going to do? Grandpapa and Mr. Winter both away, you had better come with us."
To this frank invitation I replied, "Most willingly, wherever you choose to lead me."
A message being left with Mrs. O'Toole's sub, for Colonel Vernon, informing him of my arrival, in case his return should precede ours, and Nurse having crammed some additional articles into a basket already overflowing, Miss Vernon stepped through the open window, calling Cormac, who soon made his appearance, noticing me in a grave and dignified manner. Mrs. O'Toole and I followed our fair conductress down the sloping pleasure ground, now gay with many coloured dahlias; at the bottom of which a small door led into a road by the river side. Nurse produced a ponderous key, and carefully locked it after us. We turned to the left, and I walked between Mrs. O'Toole and her nursling, who looked charmingly in her cotton morning dress and her cottage straw bonnet, with its white ribbon; her luxuriant brown hair doing away with all necessity for the curious floral exhibitions ladies usually display under theirs.
"Nothing new or strange has occurred here since you went," said Miss Vernon, in a quiet, confidential tone; "grandpapa has been very well, and quite looked forward to seeing you again. Mr. Winter has been very busy driving Cyclops hither and thither, and twice got into a ditch; and Miss Araminta Cox and Mrs. Winter agree in saying you are not at all the sort of person they expected a Cavalry officer to be."
"Errah! what do the likes of thim know about Cavalry officers?" exclaimed nurse, en parenthèse.
"What did they expect?" said I, laughing, "something very terrific, in the raw head and bloody bones style, I suppose?"
"I told them I had always found Dragoons very harmless, inoffensive people," replied Miss Vernon, an arch glance displacing the pensive depth of expression her eyes had assumed when gazing at the sketches of her old home.
"Indeed!" said I, with some pique, "well meaning creatures, useful about a house."
Miss Vernon laughed, "I see you would prefer being dreaded by Miss Araminta Cox, so I'll not take your part any more."
We had by this time reached a sort of rude pier, shaded by a few old thorn trees, limes, and horse chesnuts; an irregular rugged red stone wall, which, sometimes retiring, sometimes advancing, followed the course of the road, formed a very suitable back ground; and just here an arch of heavy stone work sheltered a clear and deep well; beside the little landing place lay a large flat-bottomed boat, and at its bow sat a huge, rough, grizzled boatman, in a hairy cap and horn spectacles, (looking coeval with the Priory Tower, which was visible above the trees), intently reading a well thumbed book.
"Elijah!" called out Mrs. O'Toole. I started at the scriptural appellation. "Elijah! The onfortunate ould sinner is making his sowl; he's as deaf as a stone. Elijah Bush, I say!"
"Ho, Cormac," said Miss Vernon.
The old man looked up, as the hound stepped on the gunnel and shook the boat; and raising his cap, came forward, apologising respectfully for his pre-occupation.
"It bai'nt so often I get a sight of the Ward," said he, in a broad Cumberland accent, "but I'm main glad to see you."
Miss Vernon replied courteously.
"Elijah, honey, is there e'er a throut to be got to day," said Nurse.
"Not as I knows on, Marm; I did see Davy Jones passing on here, sure enough, with the rods; but he hadn't took nothink then."
"A'then, just look out for him like a good Christian, and tell him if he's caught even the ghost of one, to have it up at the house, mind, now."
"Ay sure," said Elijah.
"Ah! what'll I do at all at all," said Mrs. O'Toole to Miss Vernon, in accents of great concern, "if I can't get a throut for the Captin?"
"I dare say he will kindly endeavour to dine without one," she replied.
"Then I am to have the pleasure of dining with you," said I.
"Of course," said Kate, opening her eyes, "where else would you dine?"
I handed her into the boat, and after carefully assisting Mrs. O'Toole, who accepted my petits soins with a "Musha, but I'm well attinded," took my seat beside her.
A few vigorous strokes from Elijah's oars brought us across, and we were standing at the foot of the broken rocky bank visible from the windows of the cottage.
"Is there much custom at your ferry now?" asked Miss Vernon as we paid him.
"Not much to speak of, but I gets my crust; and at all events the Lord will provide," he said, raising his cap.
"Holy Vargin, listen to that now!" said Mrs. O'Toole with much fervour, "you're a mighty religious man entirely, Elijah; faith, Father Macdermott could'nt hould a candle to you, tho' he laid the Divil at Innishogue."
"Good bye," said her young lady, "we will be back in about an hour, Elijah."
Climbing the steep bank, we stood for a few moments at the top to look at the cottage, peeping prettily out from between the ivy-grown old church and the spreading oak I have before described; then following the path across the meadow where they were cutting the after grass, we fell into marching order, Mrs. O'Toole at one side of Kate, and I at the other, Cormac walking soberly between us.
It was a regular autumnal day—clear, calm, and grey, with a slight crispness in the air, an avant courier of frost. The wood through which the path soon led us, brilliant with all the variegated tints peculiar to the season, and fragrant with the odour of the gums exuding from the fir trees and young larches, seemed of tolerable extent, and now and then a pheasant would rise suddenly, with a whirr through the air, almost from our feet. A few withered leaves already strewed the ground, and nature appeared in her fullest beauty, though it was evident she was on the turning point. Occasionally we caught a glimpse of the river, and frequently heard it fretting against the rocks, which here and there opposed its progress.
Miss Vernon often paused to draw my attention to any picture, as she termed it, that struck her fancy; sometimes it was a long glade almost over-arched with leafy boughs, still retaining in their sheltered position the freshness of early summer, with a line of blue country beyond; sometimes it was a single tree of peculiar beauty, now a few old moss-grown trunks forgotten by the woodcutter, now a peep at a cottage chimney, with blue curling smoke at the other side of the river; every thing, from the rich green grass, and the endless variety of wild creepers, to the dry exhilarating atmosphere, seemed to be a source of joyous, grateful pleasure to her happy nature, gifted, as it appeared to be, with so deep a power of enjoyment. I found something contagious in her airy gaiety, and the extraordinarily keen sense of nature's beauty with which she was endowed, and asked her why it was she did not pursue drawing more steadily.
"I do not know," she replied; "it does not seem to come so naturally to me as music, though no one revels in scenery more delightedly than I do. Are you not obliged to me for this walk?"
"Indeed I am, I shall not soon forget it."
"What strange mixtures we are," said Miss Vernon; "I felt so sad after looking at those drawings of Dungar; and now it seems to me as if the mere sense of existence is happiness enough. Ah, there is a great deal that is delightful in this life of ours, let poets and popular preachers say of it what they will."
"It's only hearts like yours, avourneen, that draw the sunshine round them," said Mrs. O'Toole.
"True, Miss Vernon," I observed; "but what long intervals of much that is unpleasant—what bitter mortifications!"
"Yes," she replied; "but there is no life so sad that it has not something sweet also."
"When the curse of poverty falls on you, and holds you back from the accomplishment of all your soul most longs for," I said.
"Ah, that would be terrible indeed," said she, a little startled at my vehemence; "but do you know poverty is not so dreadful."
"Och! then, God help you Miss Kate, what do you know about poverty? sure givin' up a fine house an' horses, an' carriages, an' grandeur, is bad enough; but for poverty, wait till the crathers ye love call to ye for bread, an' ye havn't the screed of a pitaty to give them—that's poverty. Isn't that dreadful? The blessed Saver shield ye from it, darlint, any how."
"And to think that your own folly had placed you in such," I observed, not minding nurse.
"Then I am quite sure," said Miss Vernon, "that a steadfast resignation to what you brought on yourself, an unmurmuring struggle to retrieve, would work its own cure; there is so much strength in perfect submission!"
"Ay, for woman."
"And for man too; how can your boldness and wisdom guard against the future any more than our dependence? we can only use the present to the best of our abilities, and leave the rest to God."
I remained silently pondering over her words, while she turned to Nurse.—"Dear Nurse, I forgot, indeed, what real poverty was as I spoke; many a one is sinking in such a struggle as you describe, I fear; still there's rest before them."
"Thrue for ye, the Heavens be their bed! Amen."
"How did we come to scare ourselves with such gloomy thoughts, Captain Egerton? Let us enjoy this lovely day, and leave the sorrows we cannot remove in better hands. There is the keeper's cottage; will you sit here until we have spoken to his daughter? we will not be long."
A young woman, supporting a sickly-looking child, appeared in the porch; a tolerably long conference ensued. Nurse opened the basket, the contents of which were received with great pleasure, and the pale boy tried to climb into Kate's arms; she sat down and spoke to him with a smile, to which he responded, as if glad to be with her. Cormac sat gravely by me, making some advances towards greater intimacy in a dignified way.
I see the whole picture before me even now; the keeper's pretty cottage, with the rich back ground of autumnal trees, the rustic porch, Nurse and the girl emptying the basket, and Miss Vernon, her shawl falling off one shoulder, bending over the child, who looked up at her with a sort of half wondering, half pleased expression.
At length the visit was over, Kate put down the child; and followed for a few steps by its curtseying attendant, rejoined me; Cormac rose as if his responsibility was at an end, and we turned towards home.
Dismissing all the gloomy forebodings Miss Vernon's words had conjured up, I determined to do away with any evil impression my observations might have created, and our walk back was a "right merrie" one. Mrs. O'Toole, throwing in from time to time her shrewd caustic remarks, and Kate's sweet joyous laugh, rousing the echoes from their slumbers; many a half forgotten incident of our former acquaintance was recalled, and Nurse's reminiscences of our exploits, when I used occasionally to join her nursling in a game of romps, called up many a smile on my side, and a few blushes on that of Miss Vernon.
We could perceive the Colonel on the look out for us, when we reached the top of the bank. Mrs. O'Toole having satisfied herself that David Jones had taken more than the ghost of a throut, hurried forward to exercise her skill on the fruit of his labours, leaving the garden gate open for our more tardy approach. The Colonel received me with his accustomed polished kindness; Nurse surpassed herself in the exquisite dressing of the trout; Gilpin dropped in to tea, joined in praising my sketches, sang a duet with Kate, and played some beautiful airs, while the Colonel was beating me in three consecutive games of chess. The three succeeding days winged themselves away with wonderful rapidity; I sketched and argued with Winter; prescribed for his wife's pug dog, who was affected with the snuffles; and lounged in and out of the Priory, as if I was one of its rightful inmates. What pleasant mornings they were! sometimes reading aloud to the Colonel and his granddaughter; sometimes assisting the latter in the garden; occasionally learning the second in a duet, and getting a scolding for inattention; while Miss Vernon pursued her usual avocations of work or writing, or obeyed Nurse's summons to disentangle accounts, or consult about dinner, in the same easy unembarrassed manner, I have before endeavoured to describe; always real, always earnest, her every occupation seemed graceful and suitable; and the calm continuance of her usual routine, completely removed the uncomfortable idea of being in the way, which more ceremonious attention would have conveyed.
How dangerous all this! how thoroughly I felt my heart imbued with the sweet homelike influence of this every day companionship, yet I was astonishingly prudent, not altogether in consequence of Burton's admonitions; I dreaded to break the repose of our intercourse, and more than all, the frankness and friendliness of Miss Vernon's manner, opposed a stronger barrier to the least approach to "love making," than the stiffest prudery that ever was inculcated in a first-rate establishment for young ladies. Once, and only once, when some expression of the irrepressible tenderness and admiration I felt growing on me, escaped my lips almost unconsciously, Miss Vernon blushed and started, as if some sudden revelation had flashed across her mind, and, for a moment looked grave, almost displeased, but the next instant, apparently dismissing whatever thought had disturbed her, she was her own unembarrassed self again.
The Saturday after my return to A—— was Miss Vernon's birthday, and Winter surprised her with an admirably painted and life-like likeness of her grandfather.
The delight of Kate, the exclamations of Nurse, the enjoyment of Winter, may be imagined; the whole party, including Gilpin, assisted at its formal induction in the place of honour over the mantel-piece, vice John Anderson transferred to a position at the end of the room, Kate professing a great regard for the print; I distinguished myself on the occasion by my skilful picture-hanging, Mrs. O'Toole holding the ladder, on which I mounted to perform the service.
We had a very merry party at dinner, and drank Miss Vernon's health, and everybody's health.
I proposed Mrs. O'Toole's in an eloquent oration, to which she (having been called in to honour the toast of the evening) replied, "Success to ye Captin, musha, but ye'r a grate spaker entirely. Here's your health, Miss Kate, and blessins on ye, me darlin; more power to the masther, and long may he reign over us, I pray God."
Before we separated Winter proposed a sketching expedition to a ruin of much beauty and some interest, about eight miles from A——, and Miss Vernon suggested a pic nic to include the party there assembled. "We can hire Edward's phaeton, and Mr. Winter is independent of livery stables; Cyclops will no doubt leave us far behind, but we will endeavour to come in for the fragments of the feast."
"If you promise to behave yourself," replied he, "I'll give you a seat in my buggy."
"Suppose, my dear," said Mrs. Winter, "we were to take tea at the farm, on our return; it is about half way?"
"Thank you, my dear, an excellent idea."
"A delightful suggestion, Mrs. Winter," said Miss Vernon.
"Then the programme is," said Winter, "an early drive over to Mowbray Castle, a good morning's work there; dinner at two o'clock and tea at five, and syllabubs at the farm."
"An admirable plan," observed the Colonel.
"There is nothing I like better than a real impromptu pic nic," I observed.
"And, Mrs. Winter, the gentlemen must not be too exigeants," said Miss Vernon, "but be content with what our larders afford; there will be no time for preparation."
"Content!" cried I.
"Oh! we all know you would rather prefer a few herbs with water from the neighbouring spring," said Miss Vernon archly.
A few more words as to the hour of starting and place of rendezvous, which was to be at the Priory, as it was on the road to the Ruins, and we exchanged good nights.
What a contrast Sunday at A—— presented to almost every other Sunday I had ever spent. The grey old church, with its exquisitely carved screen and pulpit, black polished oak, its heavy massive pillars, and quaint scanty congregation. How distinguished the Colonel and Miss Vernon looked amongst them! Gilpin's almost inspired strains on the organ, contrasted rather forcibly with the drowsiness of the service, doled out by a little mummy in spectacles, evidently minus several teeth, essential to a clear enunciation. We all sat in Winter's pew, and Miss Araminta Cox was there in a yellow bonnet, the turban, I suppose, done up in a different shape.
After church we had an early dinner, luncheon rather, then a stroll along the river, where we found Elijah Bush preaching to a mob of boys and girls; it seemed curious, too, not having any dinner at the regular hour.
The old church looked dim and solemn at evening service, its only lights were those partially illuminating the little mummy in his task of deciphering his own hieroglyphics. Then came a social cup of coffee, a parting injunction to be punctual, and we separated for the night.
Monday rose clear and bright, a warm sun and cool bracing air. I reached the Priory in good time for their early breakfast, and found Colonel Vernon and his granddaughter in high spirits, the latter looking lovely, her colour heightened by the clear morning air, and her whole countenance beaming with a joyous expression, the reflection of her pure happy heart.
Soon after ten o'clock the unwonted sound of carriages in the churchyard announced the arrival of the rest of the party, and we all assembled at the entrance gate to arrange the order of proceeding.
Cyclops already showed symptoms of improved feeding, but was as rough and shaggy as ever, as he stood whisking his tail at the flies, and occasionally giving a short cough.
The other phaeton was drawn by a tall bony brown horse, that looked as if he had seen better days, and could boast a little blood.
The Colonel politely invited Mrs. Winter to accompany him, and Kate most provokingly took her place with Mr. Winter, when some discussion arose in consequence of Winter's protesting he must take his boy to look after Cyclops; this left us minus a seat, but I obviated the difficulty by offering to drive the brown horse, leaving the original Jehu behind, and sharing the driving seat with Gilpin. Kate rewarded me with a bright smile as I handed her into Winter's phaeton.
"A dashing turn-out, Egerton," said the Colonel; "what would your friend, Colonel Dashwood, say to it?"
"That I'm in great luck to be included in so pleasant a party on any terms. I wish I could persuade you you would be safer on the driving seat with me, Miss Vernon."
She shook her head.
"Do not let Cyclops go, Tom, till I have got the reins settled," said Winter, who had armed himself with a pair of green goggles to keep off the dust.
"Arrah! there, ye'r the awkerdest crather I ever seen," exclaimed Nurse, as the rejected Jehu was endeavouring to arrange a large basket of provisions in the Colonel's phaeton, "d'ye want to have the Captin's knees in his mouth, ye omadhaun, can't ye put it in this away?"
"I don't think it will fix, no ways."
"Now then, are we to start or not," said Winter. "Here! put that basket in my buggy; we are lighter than you. Tom, a piece of cord, give it to Mrs. O'Toole; you needn't let Cyclops off yet."
Cyclops coughed approvingly.
"A'there! look at me bould Shyclops, cockin' his tail; Miss Kate, honey, have ye ye'r strong boots on?"
"All right, Mr. Winter," cried I.
"Let him go, Tom."
"God speed yez."
I held in my steed, who, notwithstanding his low condition, was still eager; and after a few energetic lashes, which only entangled the whip in the traces, Winter led the way, as he wished, and after traversing some very narrow crooked streets and lanes, apparently paved with a view to dislocate all travellers, we emerged upon a fine broad road, where I took the liberty of making the brown horse keep neck and neck with Cyclops. Winter's was certainly a curious turn out, with a huge basket tied on the back seat, leaving a narrow ledge for Tom to perch on; Winter himself in a broad brimm'd straw hat, the expression of his features completely changed (by the total eclipse of his eyes under green goggles) into one of preternatural gravity and pre-occupation, sitting bolt upright, and considerably in the middle of the carriage, leaving small space for Miss Vernon, and terribly embarrassed with the reins.
Our own was not much better; the cane work doing duty for panels broken in several places, and the brown horse leaning against the collar, and pulling with all his might. How Burton would have laughed at the whole concern; yet never did I enjoy a pic nic so much.
The road leading through a fine rich, though rather flat country, its chief ornament an abundance of splendid timber, at one place crossed a marshy common, where, the Organist informed me, the Royalists had been routed, in the civil wars. Many a sally from Kate, upholding the superiority of their steed to ours, enlivened our journey, while Winter's attention was a good deal engrossed by a tendency of the reins to get under Cyclops' tail.
Our progress was not rapid, but at length we reached our destination. Mowbray Castle stands close to the modern house of the Earl of——; they were generally absentees, and kindly permitted the vulgar public to enjoy the beauties they did not value; a civil gate keeper admitted us into an unpretending avenue, and shouted a warning after us, that one side of the ruins was unsafe, but which no one seemed to heed. Winter said that was a matter of course hint, given to every visitor, and that he would undertake to guide us.
We entered a quadrangular court yard, bare and blazing with sunshine, where we left the carriages, and I secured Miss Vernon as my companion, while Winter gave some directions to Tom, as to the arrangements of dinner, all agreeing to leave the selection of our banqueting hall to him.
"Push open this gate for me, Captain Egerton," said Kate, after a vain attempt to move a pair of heavy wooden doors to the left. I obeyed, and we stepped at once from the glare of the paved court yard into the cool shade of grand old trees, feathering to the ground, with gleams of sunshine breaking through upon the rich soft mossy turf beneath. A broad straight gravelled walk led up a steep hill before us, under a perfect arch of luxuriant foliage, the modern house lying a little distance to the left.
Here we were joined by Winter, who had discarded the green specs, his hat in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Reaching the hill, and emerging from the shade of the trees, we found ourselves upon the edge of what was formerly the moat of the Castle, now a gravel walk, with steeply sloping grassy sides, studded with evergreens and flowering shrubs. Beyond, the ruins rose majestic in their decay, and crowning the sudden hill we had partially ascended, a narrow stone arch, allowing of one passenger only at a time, was here thrown over the moat; the ivy and other creepers hanging from it in graceful streamers and festoons. It had no parapet or rail. Kate walked over it fearlessly and at once, but Mrs. Winter hesitated, and accepted my hand to lead her across. A good deal of climbing ensued up and down dilapidated spiral staircases, and among yawning chasms, leading to torture chambers and oubliettes as Miss Vernon suggested. Some of the views from the elevated position on which we stood, over the rich flat country with its winding river, and the distant towers of A—— were fine; but I agreed with Kate in preferring the opposite side of the Castle, where the hill was more precipitous, and you looked down into a sea of foliage, with an undulating ferny deer park beyond, and a background of blue mountains in the distance. Winter was already arranging his drawing materials in front of a round tower, with an arched door half hidden by a graceful ash tree.
After looking at his preparations, "I should like a sketch of the Castle as we first came upon it, a little to the right, to take in that pretty bridge; what subject are you going to select, Captain Egerton?" asked Kate.
"If you will show me the spot you speak of, I will endeavour to carry out your idea."
"That is delightful! follow me."
I saw in a moment she had selected an admirable point of view, and I was soon hard at work, Miss Vernon bending over my drawing, offering suggestions as I proceeded, now leaning back against the débris of an old tower, cutting my pencils and telling me legends of the Castle; now wandering away with Gilpin to inspect Winter's sketch, and returning with a report of his progress to stimulate my energies, while Mrs. Winter and the Colonel seated themselves on a rustic bench, occupying an elevated position in what was once the Keep, from which the rival sketchers were both visible, and the latter producing a newspaper from his pocket, sometimes holding his glasses to his eyes, sometimes tapping them on the paper, seemed to read aloud for his companion's amusement. A couple of hours glided pleasantly away, and Kate was congratulating me on my faithful delineation of the ruins, when we perceived Winter join his wife and the Colonel. He waved his straw hat, and making a speaking trumpet of a roll of paper, shouted "Dinner!" very audibly.
"In a minute," said Miss Vernon, forgetting he could not hear her, "just finish that bit of shading, Captain Egerton; Mr. Gilpin and I will put up all your things."
"Are you coming?" shouted Winter once more.
I put my portfolio under my arm, shouldered my camp stool, and we soon joined the impatient and hungry artist, who led the way to a well-chosen site for dinner. A bastion to the east of the Castle, commanding a totally different view both north and south, which the remains of a grey watch tower at one angle served to divide into two distinct pictures. Close under it our banquet was spread; some moss-grown stones and our camp stools supplying us with seats; gaily and laughingly we attacked the viands. Winter presided, eating and talking with great energy, seated on a high stone, which compelled him to keep his feet on tiptoe to prevent his well-filled plate from gliding off his knees; kneeling down every now and then to dive into the interior of a partridge pie, his own contribution to the feast.
"I must trouble you again, Winter," said the Colonel; "no paste thank you, but Teniers himself never gave a better interior."
"I made it myself, Colonel," said Mrs. Winter, triumphantly.
"My dear Madam, fair hands make fair work."
"Bel parlare poco costa," ejaculated Winter.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself to say such things in an unknown tongue," said Miss Vernon.
"What was it, my dear?" enquired his wife; "indeed, John, those wicked words are very sinful."
"Ha, ha, Miss Vernon, you are a mischievous little witch! Ah, Sue, you've an old reprobate of a husband."
"Let us fill a bumper to the memory of those glorious old Normans, who left us so charming a banqueting hall," said I.
"You do not express yourself properly; let us 'drain a cup' is more appropriate," interrupted Miss Vernon.
"A set of unmitigated robbers without a spark of humanity," said the Artist.
"You must admit they were often splendidly generous," interposed Miss Vernon.
"Ay, by fits and starts."
"As much as could be expected from ignorant uncivilised warriors," said I; "they were rude and cruel enough, so were all nations at the time; while few possessed their generosity, energy, and abstemiousness; they were a race of gentlemen!"
"Yes, abstemiousness has always continued to be a characteristic of their gentlemanlike descendants," sneered Winter.
"Quite as much as of the all imbibing Saxons. I like the Normans," replied Kate.
"Was it not here, Miss Vernon, that Geraldine Mowbray mounted guard with her waiting woman, to give the Warders time for repose?" enquired Gilpin.
"Yes, it was during an insurrection of the Saxon serfs, and was not unlike the Lady Evelyn Berenger's watch in 'The Betrothed.' She had a brave heart."
"It is wonderful what heroic acts women were capable of in those days," observed the Colonel.
"It was the peculiar position they were placed in called forth faculties which still exist, ready to spring into action whenever there is a call for self devotion," said I.
"Which are exercised every day, and a thousand times more painfully, in silent unregarded sacrifices," observed the Organist.
"And a thousand times more gloriously," said Miss Vernon. "It was, I am sure, comparatively easy to act heroically, when the tone of every thing round you was heroic; applauded and worshipped by noble and gallant knights; celebrated by minstrels through all the world of chivalry. I have not much courage to boast of, but I think I could mount guard on an emergency, and under those circumstances. Ah! dare I say I have that loftier courage that would enable me to bear up under trials, the depth of which, my own heart alone knew!"
She stopped suddenly, blushing, as if ashamed of her own enthusiasm.
"My dear Kate, what makes you think such dreadful things?" whined Mrs. Winter.
"Why, Miss Vernon, you are in a moralising vein," cried her mate.
"I have no doubt, Kate, you would lead a forlorn hope gallantly," said her grandfather.
"Take me as your Lieutenant, Miss Vernon, and trust me I'll support my chief."
"When the occasion comes, you'll find strength," said Gilpin.
"Basta! in nome di Dio, leave off moralising, and give us a song." The Organist and Kate sang a duet, and even Winter joined in a catch; their notes floated sweetly on the air, and woke up the echoes of the deserted castle. Tom gathered up the fragments of the feast, and Mr. Winter hinted it was time for us to start for the farm.
We all accordingly rose, and Gilpin, who was a little of a botanist, climbed to get some wild plant that caught his eye, a little way up the remnant of a watchtower I have already mentioned. "I wonder," said Kate, "if this is the dangerous part of the ruins; I think that wall looks tottering;" and she remained standing beside me, watching the Organist. As she spoke, I fancied I heard something fall among the thick leafy boughs at the other side; then one of the stones by which Gilpin had ascended rolled slowly away. "Christo benedetto!" shouted Winter, "down, down all of you, it will fall." They rushed rapidly away; Kate paused for an instant to say, "poor Mr. Gilpin, help him, he is lame." I immediately flew to assist his descent, and almost lifted him to the ground; he turned quickly to the right, down a broken flight of steps, and I was following him, when there was a crash, a blinding dust, a scream of dismay from the lookers on; I felt a heavy blow, a sense of acute pain, and then all was darkness.
CHAPTER VIII.
CONVALESCENCE.
I will not dwell on the wearisome details of a sick room; my escape from death was almost miraculous, still the injuries I received were dangerous, and my recovery retarded by the fever consequent on my slow and painful transit from the scene of the accident to Winter's house, where he insisted on establishing me, on the plea that he was partly the cause of my sufferings. Here all that kindness and skill could accomplish, was done to alleviate them; poor Gilpin watching over me with the affection of a brother, and the tenderness of woman. Mrs. O'Toole, too, seemed a fixture by my bedside, and when in the delirium of fever, no voice had so much influence over me, I was told, as the rich tones of her mellifluous brogue.
Burton and Colonel Dashwood came over from Carrington, on receiving despatches announcing the accident, and the former finding me in such good hands, gave up his intention of remaining with me. Notwithstanding all the care and watchfulness expended on me, October was well nigh past before the spectacled, shovel-hatted Galen of A—— pronounced a visit to the drawing room feasible; and my utter exhaustion, when the transit from my room was effected, proved the correctness of his judgment.
There I lay stretched on the sofa, strength and energy alike vanished, finding a sufficient exercise for all my faculties, in watching the twinkling of Mrs. Winter's knitting needles, and enjoying a delicious languor, partly the result of weakness, partly of freedom from pain. Where was the resolution with which I was to disentangle my affairs, rouse my brother to a sense of duty, and try my chance of winning Kate Vernon? Buried in the ruins of the "Lady's Tower," as it was called, while I was utterly unable to move without assistance, and indebted to Mrs. Winter's unceasing attention for the conveyance of every spoonful of jelly that reached my lips, yet in spite of all, I was almost glad to be thus compelled to postpone for the present my intentions.
It was so delightful to feel that no exertion could be expected from me, and that I was chained within the magic circle of Kate Vernon's influence, without the possibility of Burton or any one else caviling at the cause. Yet such is the miserable vanity of our petty nature, I rather delayed seeing her, even after the doctor had declared visitors admissible. The Colonel had from the first seen me almost daily, and now no morning passed, without a visit from him to tell me the news—what the troops in India were about; what the Times said of the Ministry, and of the enquiries made for me by Colonel Dashwood and my brother officers; in short, I was an occupation to him, and always welcomed his appearance with a warmth too genuine not to touch his benevolent heart.
Winter had received one or two notes of inquiry from my brother, finally a formal letter of thanks for his attention to me, and Egerton appeared to relapse into his usual forgetfulness of my existence.
My days generally passed in a sort of routine order, each person of our little society giving me a portion of their time in turn. The Colonel in the morning, when Winter was out and his wife in the subterranean regions, devoted to gastronomy; then Gilpin used to look in between the intervals of his music lessons; after this came a dreary pause, before Mrs. Winter was sufficiently at liberty to take up her strangely soothing work, and Winter still in his studio.
I was unequal to the effort of perusing a book, and longed for some one to read to me, so I generally lay "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy" from one to two o'clock, and curious enough, as my strength slowly returned, the bitter predominated; my mind seemed to gather force enough to feel the weight of responsibilities, from which the weakness it shared with its closely linked associate, the body, had freed it for a while. Is it not thus that spirits and forms of slighter make, and less comprehensive faculties manage to cast away sorrows and sicknesses that would shatter more robust and powerful frames.
Woe to him whose deep and sensitive feelings are not linked with a nature strong enough to direct and support them. And for those from whose light-hearted buoyancy, care and regret seem to glance away as if from polished armour; why should we dare to sneer at their apparent frivolity? shall not nature which has furnished every living thing with its own peculiar weapon, provide the spirit with a fitting defence against the deadly foes that beset it. Maraviglia, as Winter would say, what profound reflections for a Captain of Light Dragoons!
The interval I have described was dragging its dreary length slowly over one determined wet day, dark and misty, the clouds having apparently come down to earth in a fit of hysterics; the trees in the Abbey garden visible from my sofa had a thoroughly drenched saturated look as if nothing could ever dry them; once or twice the tramp tramp of a pair of heavy hob-nailed shoes echoed through the square, and the wearer trudged by in glistening oilskin cap, a sack thrown over his shoulders, and a shivering dripping dog at his heels; but beyond this no living creature showed out of shelter. It was too much, I fancied, even for the most aquatically inclined duck. I felt the want of companionship deplorably. What could Winter mean by pretending business with the Dean this morning? If he was at home I would have some one to speak to, it is too dark to paint.
There was a low knock at the door, and Mrs. O'Toole's broad pleasant face appeared, beaming on me over a tray which she carried.
"Ah, Nurse," I exclaimed, "how delighted I am to see you here—shake hands." I got quite affectionate at the idea of a pleasant chat with Mrs. O'Toole.
"Och, jewel, now be asy! don't be strivin' to sit up; sure I'll settle the pillas for ye, before y'd say thrap stick, if you'd have patience. There now, take a sup of it, I made ye a nice drop of jelly meeself; sure little Mrs. Winter's a good soul, but I don't like them English ways of puttin' lard an' suet into their paste instead of the best ov good buther; faith, ses I to meeself, may be it's glue they'll be puttin' in the jelly, so I made ye a drop; an' Mrs. Winter ses, mighty good humoured, 'Walk up, Mrs. O'Toole, in coorse nothin' plaises the Captin so much as what you make.' Dear knows it's the t'underin' wet day; an' how are ye, agrah?"
I may observe en passant that Mrs. O'Toole had treated me more like a pet child than a respected "Right Honourable" since my illness, and rather ruled me with a rod of iron.
I replied to her kind enquiries, and asked for Miss Vernon.
"Is it Miss Kate? she's singin' like a lark. Ses she, 'Nurse, be sure you ask Captin Egerton when I may go see him; I'm sure,' ses she, 'he's angry with me for making him go back to help Mr. Gilpin,' ses she, 'or he'd let me go see him as well as every one else,' ses she."
"Did she though? I am most happy she made me instrumental in saving Mr. Gilpin's life, and of course I'll be too glad to see her the next time she calls on Mrs. Winter; but Nurse, don't I look confoundedly wretched?"
"Musha is it that ye'r thinkin' of? ye needn't bother ye'r head about it, honey. If ye were like ould Dan Kelly (an' he'd a broken nose an' a cast in his two eyes), Miss Kate, 'ud think the sun shone in ye'r face afther ye'r goin back to help the crather of an organist, an every one else runin' away. She ses"—
"Oh! it was a natural instinct to help him."
"Faith, it 'ud come more natural to many a one to save himself. I'll never forget the night ye come home all bruised an' bloody, widout as much life in ye as 'ud stand a pooff, Gilpin houldin' yer head, Winter cursin' (God forgive him) like a throoper in Greek or Latin; the ould masther, as studdy as a rock, sending off right an' left for everything, an' Miss Kate as white as a sheet, an' thrimblin' from head to fut, not spakin' a word, an' keepin' quiet as a lamb, just not to disturb any one. Musha, but we'd the ruction!"
"I can never forget the great kindness you all showed me; I must have been a great trouble to you when I was delirious; do you remember what I raved about?"
"Oh! you was rampagin mad; it was ordtherin' the army one minit, an' followin' the hounds the next, an' shoutin' murther to save Miss Kate, for whatever ye began with, it iver an' always ended with her; may be ye have a sisther called Kate."
"No, it was your Miss Kate that always seemed to me in some deadly danger, and I could not rescue her; your voice used invariably to break the spell; but did any one else hear me except you?"
"I couldn't take upon me to say, but Mr. Gilpin an' meeself was wid ye most times."
"Hum! and Miss Vernon, you did not mention my delusions to her?"
"In course I did."
"And what did she say?"
Mrs. O'Toole just thought for a moment, and then looking up in my face, said, "Is it Miss Kate? Ses she—'isn't it odd, dear Nurse, how people rave about those they never think of when sane,' ses she; sane or sinsible was the word, but I dis remember which."
Not much tenderness or recognition of my feelings there, I thought! "Tant mieux, you may put away the cup, Nurse, it was so good I quite enjoyed it: and tell me, did you see Colonel Dashwood when he was over here?"
"Is it the 'Curnel? To be sure I did, he was twizte over at the Priory, an' a fine grand lookin' gentleman he is; he wanted the masther to go back with him, but, ses he, 'No, Dashwood, I'm too old for a mess table, an' I would have no pleasure widout poor Egerton, at all evints,' ses he; an' then Miss Kate ups, an' ses she, 'If you take grandpapa, 'Curnel, you must take me too, for we are—' Musha, I forget the word."
"Inseparable," I suggested.
"Somethin' like it, anyhow; and then the 'Curnel bowed mighty grand, an' ses he—'Arrah, then, it's the whole rigmint 'ull be wantin' 'Curnel Vernon, if I mintion them conditions,' ses he."
I laughed to a degree that alarmed Nurse, at the idea of our dashing thorough-bred colonel prefacing his speech with "arrah, thin."
"I'll lave ye intirely if ye be shakin' yerself that way, when ye havn't the stringth in ye to laugh out."
"Oh Nurse, dear Nurse, do not go, tell me something more."
"I havn't a ha'poth more to tell ye, an its time for me to be going. The blessin' of Christ be wid ye, ye'r lookin' ten stone bether, Glory be to God."
The next day in consequence of Nurse's report, Miss Vernon came with her grandfather. I almost expected her, yet her advent made me feel strangely nervous; it seemed strange to me too, being unable to rise, that she should come over, and place her hand in mine, when I could not stir to receive her; she sat down near me and began talking in a gentle subdued tone, as if half afraid of disturbing me.
"You look much better than I expected, Captain Egerton; what a wonderful recovery! But why would you not let me come here before?"
"I was afraid my ghastly looks would frighten you."
"You look all eyes now."
In a whisper, "I am."
"I do not think you look so well to day, Egerton, you have a feverish excited air, and your voice is decidedly weaker," observed the Colonel.
"Perhaps we ought not to stay," said Miss Vernon.
"I beg you will not leave me," I gasped.
After a little more conversation a message from Mr. Winter called the Colonel out of the room, and Kate and I were tête-à-tête.
"Nurse gave rather a melancholy account of you yesterday," said Miss Vernon, "she said you were all alone and 'dissolute' by yourself. Have you no books?"
"I do not feel up to reading, but if I had any one to read out to me—Gilpin has not time."
"I would be delighted, I will come here and read to you and Mrs. Winter every day."
"You are most kind."
The excitement of her visit was too much for me, and I felt a faintness stealing over me. Miss Vernon observing the deadly pallor of my face, with an expression of alarm, felt my pulse. "Let me call some one," she said. I feebly grasped her hand, dreading that an interview so delightful to me should be curtailed.
"It is nothing—air, air!" I articulated with much difficulty. Still leaving her hand in mine, she stretched the other to a screen, and fanned me silently for a few moments; then perceiving the returning colour, "Are you better now?" she said softly, with such an expression of tenderness in her dark eyes, I could have thrown myself at her feet.
"If you will let go my hand I will get you a little of that bottle; I see 'restorative' on it" she added, without a shade of embarrassment, evidently considering my desire to retain it some sickly fancy. I reluctantly relinquished my hold and turning to the table she gave me the medicine and then arranged my pillows in such a home-like manner.
From that interview, the sort of unsettled but ardent admiration I had before entertained for her, seemed to deepen into something purer, higher, more devoted, and unselfish, than I had ever felt before. I looked forward to the possibility of calling her my wife; not with the rash eagerness to possess a new toy, or to give life a new charm, but with a deep rooted conviction that with her at my side, come weal or woe, I would have love and truth and strength there always and unchangeably.
From this time she came over constantly after my host's early dinner, and read aloud, while Mrs. Winter pursued her occupation of knitting; and I lay on my sofa all eye and ear. Winter and the Colonel often joined our party, but the former was too fond of raising questions in opposition to the opinions of whatever author we were perusing.
Miss Vernon generally chose the books she was to read, and I could not help thinking she had some design in her selection; they were generally thoughtful, high toned works, not coming under the denomination of religious literature; but yet setting forth in a strong, though unobtrusive manner, the necessity of faith; the healing power of resignation.
I hinted one day that I could see she intended to convert me; she disclaimed such an intention very eagerly, concluding, "why should I pretend to do so; I am sure you are as good as I am! I consulted Mr. Gilpin about the books, and took what he advised, and I like them too, for I feel they do me good; but I will bring you a novel to-morrow." She did so, and chose Zanoni, excluding Winter from the lecture. I did thoroughly enjoy it.
Miss Vernon seemed to identify herself with its noble thoughts, its wild imaginings, its grand philosophy, and high-souled spirit of self-sacrifice! Her musical voice varying with every sentiment it expressed, and often laying down the book to discuss its character with an interest and affection that invested them with life-like reality: I had glanced over the work before, and put it down with an acknowledgment, certainly, of the author's great genius, but with an idea that it was beyond the scope of my imagination to enjoy. Kate's readings and remarks on it revealed me to myself, and showed me I had aspirations and capabilities for better things: yet it was merely the outpouring of her own heart, and she would have raised her darkly fringed eyelids in astonishment had any one told her she was making a silent revolution in mine.
Poor Mrs. Winter used to listen to our animated debates on Viola and Glyndon, &c., in perfect amazement, and when appealed to by Kate for an opinion, replied with a smile, "Indeed, my dear, I don't know; it's a very curious book, and quite impossible to believe any man could see and know everything the way that Mr. Zanoni did."
Longfellow's poems, then attracting notice for the first time in England, were great favourites with Miss Vernon, and here she and Winter perfectly agreed, for a wonder. These were hours of intense happiness: the exterior world all forgotten, I lived in a fairy-like dream, with just sufficient of earth around me to prove it real; my strength was now rapidly returning, and I began to feel this delicious breathing space from life's ruder joys and ruder cares had lasted long enough. Once or twice I had caught Winter watching Kate and myself as we sat apart rather from the others—she pouring forth her opinions on some favourite author with all her accustomed enthusiasm—I wrapped in contemplation of her, and thinking but little of the subject which engrossed her thoughts.
Winter, I repeat, would sometimes glance uneasily at us as we sat thus, but I always observed serenity return to his countenance, as his eye rested on Miss Vernon.
It soon grew into a habit, that the Vernons and Gilpin should come in every evening; Kate and the Organist taking it by turns to cut into the rubber or talk with me, as I showed a decided disinclination for the society of Miss Araminta Cox, who usually made up the whist table; we had a good deal of music too, my favourite songs were all duly remembered, and all my whims so kindly attended to, I almost regretted that soon no excuse would remain for prolonging my sojourn amongst them. The first day I ventured to walk out, Burton came over from Carrington with a packet of letters, arrived during my illness; there were some pleasant reminders from my solicitors that Messrs. Levi and Co.'s bill would soon be due, and that they kindly offered to renew on exorbitant terms. One or two missives of the same nature; an epistle from Egerton, congratulating me on my escape from the infernal regions, which he seemed clearly of opinion would have been my destination, had not Nature or the Doctor been too strong for Grim Death, and concluding with an exhortation to read the 25th chapter of St. Matthew. "He is worse than ever," was my reflection, as I finished the perusal, "what a Herculean labour I have before me, in the attempt to soften the heart of such a thoroughgoing Evangelical. They always manage to convince themselves that it is for the good of their souls that their pockets should be hermetically sealed against the wants of their brothers. But I must get out of Messrs. Levi's clutches at any cost."
Lastly, a long rambling but affectionate letter from my sister, telling me more of English gossip, than I could imagine the dolce far niente of Neapolitan life had left her energy enough to collect.
"I feel rather distressed, dear Fred," she said, after giving me an amusing sketch of the society about her, "at the profoundly moral tone of your letter, and fear you must be in debt, (not far out there) for you never were very serious about any love affair; tell me what is the matter? You know we are rich, and Harry always liked you. I have been so bored about some absurd speech of Egerton's at Exeter Hall; they tell me, (for I never read such things) he said, 'the ministry had delivered the nation, bound hand and foot to Beelzebub, where they sent an Ambassador to Antichrist (meaning the Pope);' do find out if this is true, for the people here have discovered he is my brother, and the women always cross themselves when I enter a room, which is so absurd, and disagreeable: the men only laugh. I am much better, and we think of returning to England next spring. I wish you would get leave of absence and run over to us, for the winter. It is too dreadful to think of your being condemned to remain at that horrible place; would it not be better to live altogether at A——, if you must be near your Regiment. Talking of you the other night to Count Alphonso Di Montibello, he said there was a famous painter, a great ally of his, who used to study here, now living at A——; do you know any thing of him?
"Now, dear Fred, good bye, write soon again to me; ever your affectionate sister,
"Mary F. Wentworth."
"P.S.—Harry desires his remembrances; I had almost forgotten Lady Desmond; of course I know her, every one does; she is a most charming person, and creates a perfect furore here; such taste, and certainly the most ladylike Irishwoman I ever met; she has refused a perfect army of Counts and Marquises. Cela va sans dire; but if report speaks true, that nice creature Sir Charles Seyton shared the same fate. They say Adolphus Somerset, one of our attachés, got sick leave, after offering his little diplomatic self for her acceptance, and receiving one fixed look from her dark eyes! I have a theory of my own that Lady Desmond, calm, proud, and cold as she seems, has a tendresse for a certain blasé peer, at present among our most prominent notorieties; he piques himself on his cynicism, and is rather in the Satanic style; very ridiculous I think! They tell me dreadful stories of him. Lady Desmond talks of travelling with us as far as Florence next spring; if you have any engouement for her, get rid of it, I would advise you, for she had some trouble to recall your memory to hers, and seemed quite astonished when I told her you had made any enquiries about her. Adieu once more."
How thoroughly characteristic her letter is of the life she leads, kindly and polished, but trifling and self-absorbed! I must ask Winter about this Count Alphonso di——, what is it?
"And is your business so urgent that you cannot put it off till you are stronger?" said the old Colonel to me about a week after the receipt of the above, when I announced my intention of starting for Allerton, my brother's place in Hampshire.
"It is indeed," I replied, so gloomily, that my kind old friend asked, "Nothing disagreeable I hope?"
"Nothing very pleasant," said I, forcing a laugh; "I will tell you all when I come back; do not look so gravely at me, Miss Vernon."
"Did I? I was not aware of it; but are you not very rash to travel so soon?"
"No, I would get a fever if I remained."