Kate Vernon: A Tale. Vol. 1 (of 3)

I cannot get that air out of my head."

The sun, which had all the morning been obscured by heavy clouds, shone out with the brilliancy and warmth of June rather than September. As I entered the little garden before Colonel Vernon's cottage I paused a moment in the vain endeavour to decipher the inscription over the gateway; a B, a C, and a very faint D were all I could make out.

"The masther's out, but Miss Kate's within, Sir," was Nurse's reply to my queries.

"And I hope you are quite well yourself, Mrs. O'Toole," said I, in a state of beatitude.

"Indeed, an' I am, sir, glory be to God," and she opened the door, saying familiarly, "here's the Captin, Miss Kate."

Miss Vernon was seated at a writing table in the window, copying out of the large dusky book the organist had given her. The window was open, and the light breeze gently stirred the white muslin curtains, and brought a thousand delicious odours from the garden and fields; while beyond it river and rocks, and swelling upland and woods, and the distant spire of a village church, lay bathed in a flood of glowing golden light, which seemed to endue every object with beauty by the sole agency of colour.

Kate rose to receive me with her sparkling smile, dispelling the gentle gravity which always characterised her countenance when in repose, and made it so strangely different according as her mood changed.

"Then you have missed grandpapa," said she, giving me her hand, "I told him I thought you would be out from what I heard you say to Mr. Winter last night."

A quick impulse of vanity suggested—"could she have remained at home in expectation of my advent?" but a glance at her bonnet and shawl, as if just thrown off, and the slight disorder in the rich masses of her hair, completed my conviction that she had but just come in.

"How sorry I am to have missed Colonel Vernon," said I, hypocritically; "I have been all the morning rambling about with your friend Mr. Winter, and have to thank you for introducing me to so admirable a guide."

"I knew you would like him; but sit down, I am sure grandpapa will return soon. I see he did not intend to go farther than your Hotel, or he would have taken Cormac."

And she pointed to the grave old hound, who lay stretched in the sunshine before the window and had partly risen on my appearance.

I drew a chair opposite Miss Vernon, who resumed her occupation.

"I am writing out the parts of some chants separately," said she, "not a very absorbing employment; Mr. Gilpin wishes his choir to get them up, and I volunteered my services."

"Rather troublesome," said I, absently.

"Oh no," said she, "I have nothing particular to do just now, and it is so dull to be idle."

"I fancy A——, delightful as it is in our antiquarian or picturesque point of view, must be rather too tranquil a sojourn for so accomplished a valseuse as yourself."

"I should have quite as little society anywhere else, and not half so many real agrémens; I never find it dull."

"How does the Colonel amuse himself?"

"Ah!" cried Miss Vernon with great earnestness, "I often think of that; it is such a change for him; such a total break-up of all his accustomed ways. I am often at my wits end to amuse him, yet he bears it wonderfully; how do you think him looking?"

"Wonderfully well! never better, but in this sweet place with you he cannot be unhappy."

"God forbid he should—a little sad sometimes."

She was silent for a few moments, and then resumed her pen. I cannot describe how charming this visit was to me. Miss Vernon's little white hand wrote on busily all the time, while sometimes glancing up at me, but generally looking at her work. I felt none of the gêne of a formal tête à tête, where the visitor and visited sit both upright, compelled to stare at each other; but leaning back in my chair, I talked and gazed at my ease.

"I can hardly believe the evidence of my senses that I am in calm conversation with the incognita who so puzzled me," I resumed after a pause.

"Yes, it is very curious, but still more so that the discovery of our mutual acquaintance with Lady Desmond led to no dénouement," said my companion.

"I knew her no further than meeting her frequently in society in Dublin, where I was about four years ago, with a cousin of mine, who was on the staff."

"She is a second cousin of grandpapa's, and I was a good deal with her just before we came here: not long, I fancy, after you had known her; and knowing how general her parties and invitations were, I really at one time imagined I might have met you at some of them: I little thought what a much older acquaintance I was dancing with."

"She is a handsome woman," I observed, "and, I fancy, not unlike Colonel Vernon."

"How brilliant and how kind she is," she exclaimed, "I often wonder the hurried life she leads gives her space to breathe! I doubt if she has time to be happy."

"Happy! Miss Vernon: do you think happiness is to be found in the stagnation that some dignify with the name of tranquillity? My least distinct idea of happiness is the hopeful exertion of every faculty—mental and physical—in search of what we never find; but inaction is misery."

"There is some truth in what you say," replied she, "but all my ideas of happiness here and hereafter, are concentrated in the word 'peace!'"—and she paused, and gazed out into the sunshine with such an expression of calm,—of harmony, if I may so term it—that I felt tempted to ask her what spell had stilled her heart into such deep repose.

"Did you make any sketches this morning?" she asked, rousing herself from her thoughts.

"One or two rough outlines; but I think I could make a very good picture from this spot," said I, rising to look through the window.

"Then," said Miss Vernon eagerly, "pray, pray do, Captain Egerton, and give it to me; it will be an inexpressible pleasure to me to have some memento of this quiet, happy spot, when I am, perhaps, far away."

"I will set about it to-morrow; but have you any notion of leaving A——?" I asked.

"Oh no,—I only spoke from a presentiment I often feel, that we will not always rest calmly in this quiet nook; the waters of life will rise some day, and sweep us out again into the noise and tumult of the world!"

Here the old dog, disturbed by my movement, slowly raised himself, and entering by the window, laid his large stern head, with a sort of sigh, on his mistress's arm.

"Ah, Cormac, good old friend," said she, putting her arm caressingly round him, "no tumult, however rough, shall separate us; you and I, and grandpapa, and nurse, a goodly company, n'est ce pas?"—

"Captain Egerton," said she, rallying and laughing, "don't quiz my presentiments, but sketch me this scene."

"With the greatest pleasure; and now I remember, I have some old drawings of Dungar somewhere: I'll look out for them, and bring them over here the next time I come."

"Oh thanks, a thousand hearty thanks: they will be treasures to me, indeed, and to grandpapa! When will you come again?"

"I can hardly hope for a repetition of my delightful visit for ten days or a fortnight: but on the first possibility of leave I will return."

"Do you know I took a long walk with nurse this morning; we had some business in that wood I showed you from the dining room, and I saw so many beautiful pictures en route; I must show you the walk. I do not think Mr. Winter knows it very well, we cross a delightful ferry to get to it, and—"

The door opened and the Colonel entered.

"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 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 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 dejeunér" 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."

"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 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.

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 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 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 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; 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 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 insupportable 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 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.

"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 walk. Gilpin took the Colonel's arm, and Kate accepted mine. The glorious moon, not yet risen to her highest altitude, threw out the lacelike tracery of the cathedral towers into strong relief—silvering the walls here and there, leaving large masses of deep shadow, while the old gateways and arches looked like openings into an abyss of darkness. A few light clouds floated in the deep blue sky. We walked on for some moments in silence.

"The last time your hand rested on my arm, Miss Vernon, I little thought I should so soon discover what you would not reveal."

"How?"

"Do you not remember how perversely you kept silence when I wanted to find out your abode?"

"Oh, yes," with a laugh, "I was so afraid you would have found out my trick, that I took care to obey poor Mrs. Winter's commands. How strangely it all turned out!"

Not much more passed between us until we passed the old church yard, where the organist left us.

"Scarcely late enough for ghosts," said the Colonel, with a smile, "but Kate would rather like to meet one."

"Not I," said Miss Vernon; "anything troubled, as ghosts always are, would be terribly out of place this calm heavenly night; though to be sure we have a black monk who walks up and down our garden from sunset till cock crow."

"There is something strangely attractive in the romantic antiquity of your domicile. I fancy it must exercise some influence on one's spirits," said I, smiling.

"Indeed, Captain Egerton, I often tell grandpapa that I am sure we are influenced by locality as well as everything else."

We paused at the wicket gate.

"I was endeavouring to make out that inscription this morning, Colonel," said I.

"You can almost read it now, the moon shines so full upon it," observed Kate. "If you knew the text you would have made it out at once. See, at this side there is the Beati mundo corde quite plain, and round here can you not trace Deum videbunt?"

"Ah, yes; of course, now you point it out."

"This is the proper light to read it by," said Miss Vernon, thoughtfully, "and do you know I sometimes like to think the entrance to our house is, as it were, sanctified by that beautiful sentence—'Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God!'"

"Ah, enthusiast!" said her grandfather, laughing and shaking his head, "Dragoons do not quite comprehend such fancies."

I could see the soft colour mount into her cheek as if she had betrayed herself.

"Do you believe him, Miss Vernon?" I asked eagerly.

"I do not know; good night."

"Good night, Egerton, you dine with us to-morrow; you can take the train to Carrington afterwards, you know."

"Thank you, Colonel, with pleasure; good night."

The wicket closed on them, and I remained for some minutes in the full, clear, calm light, gazing at the half-defaced letters, and recalling the tones of Miss Vernon's expressive and musical voice, as she pronounced the (as I thought) appropriate words which formed the inscription. And then I strolled on slowly to my hotel, thinking more seriously than is usual to me, and finally fell asleep and dreamt I was riding across the sea to Dungar on Winter's white pony, which did not strike me as anything uncommon.

CHAPTER VI.
REACTION.

I took my way to the Priory House at a very early hour, in order to make the sketch I had promised Miss Vernon. She was reading to her grandfather when I arrived, and welcomed me joyously, entering with eager interest into my preparations for drawing, and the various questions which arose as to the objects to be taken in, &c., in a way, too, which showed some knowledge of the art; and hour after hour slipped by as I sat before the window, sometimes laying down my pencil to talk with the Colonel, sometimes caressing his fine old dog, who appeared to have established a species of guard over me; while Kate, constantly watchful of my progress, flitted backwards and forwards between me and the open window, often pointing with her rosy forefinger to some shading she wished deepened, or some light brought into stronger relief; branching off from discussions on the effects of distance, &c., into all sorts of irrelevant subjects, then blaming herself for interrupting me, and exhorting me to renewed diligence; and all this so naturally, so earnestly, showing openly her pleasure at having me to talk to, but without one shadow of that indescribable consciousness by which so many women seem to say to themselves, "Now I know he is going to make love to me." No, strongly as I felt tempted to do so, there was a frankness and repose in Miss Vernon's manner I would not for worlds have disturbed by even a whisper of the profound admiration she inspired.

Something of the high principled and unselfish tone pervading the society into which I had fallen, appeared to influence me with more of thought for future consequences than was my usual habit; besides, there is nothing so blighting to sentimentalism as the friendly cordiality I have described; nevertheless, though I do not believe I was ever before so long in the society of a beautiful girl without getting up some degree of flirtation, the morning flew rapidly and delightfully away.

The Colonel had letters to write, and his granddaughter's visits to my impromptu studio, if fewer, were more confidential. She told me of the long visits she had paid to Lady Desmond, both in London and Dublin, and of the delightful singing lessons she had taken in the former place, adding that she owed her first and last peep at the great and gay world to her cousin. It appeared that Lady Desmond had been displeased with her for returning to Dungar, and had not written to her for a long time. "But you know," said Kate, "grandpapa was about to leave Dungar then, and I could not let him do so alone, nor go away without a last look at my old happy home." All this was told in a low tone, as if she did not wish the Colonel to overhear it, and in a confidential manner inexpressibly delightful to me. She had knelt down to caress Cormac, and after remaining for some seconds rolling up his long ear thoughtfully, looked up suddenly in my face and added, "I did not intend to bore you with such a long prose about my difficulties with Georgina; the reason I mentioned the subject at all was because I heard you tell grandpapa you had a sister at Naples. Lady Desmond was there, I heard, about a month ago, and I wish you would ask your sister, when you write, if she knows anything of her; I cannot bear to lose sight of her so completely." I promised very readily to do as she desired, though I warned her it might be months before I would get any reply, as my sister was but a careless correspondent.

"Thanks, and I will not interrupt you any more."

"You do not interrupt me in the least, I assure you; but if you are determined to go, perhaps you will sing. I see Colonel Vernon shutting his writing desk."

"With pleasure; would you like an Irish melody?"

"Beyond every thing."

And the next minute her rich voice was pouring forth in a full tide of sweetness, "Has sorrow thy young days shaded?"

I soon dropped my pencil, and even after the last notes had died away, remained listening for their renewal; then collecting my drawing materials, I rose, and promising Miss Vernon to finish the sketch from memory, I invited the Colonel to accompany me on a visit of ceremony to Mrs. Winter; it was succeeded by another peep at the studio, a walk with the Colonel, and then came the pleasant friendly dinner, the frank cheerful interchange of thought, the after-dinner cup of coffee and stroll in the pleasure ground to look at the moon reflected in the river; while Miss Vernon, courteously anxious to give me what she prized herself, gathered a bouquet of her choicest autumnal flowers, "to make me forget that horrid Carrington, at least in my own room," she said; her grandfather laughing at the idea of her expecting I should care for such things.

How delightfully homelike it all was.

Finally she sang me the serenade that had so enchanted me, and before the last notes were well hushed, Nurse announced the cab I had ordered to convey me to the railway.

I rose reluctantly, the Colonel, Nurse, and Cormac, and even Kate, coming out in the fresh night air, all perfumed with the clematis and heliotropes that adorned the front of the cottage, to see me off.

"Good bye, Captain Egerton," said Kate,— "be sure to come back soon, and do not forget the drawings; have you got your flowers?"

"It would be a bold man that would attempt to take them from me, Miss Vernon; good night!"

"A thousand thanks, Colonel, for my very pleasant visit to A——."

"God bless you, take care of yourself," he replied.

"A' then the saints go wid ye!" said Nurse.

"Good bye, Mrs. O'Toole; I'll never taste an eatable trout, until I return."

"Good night once more;" and I threw myself into the cab, with a feeling of extraordinary regret, and affection for the old Colonel; for Mrs. O'Toole, aye, even for Cormac; but for Kate—Caramba, as Winter would say.

A short hour of hissing and clattering, and I was back again amongst the bustling, crowded, glaring, gas exhaling streets of Carrington; amidst the confusion of noisy omnibuses and uncouth cries, of drunken mechanics, and wretched beggar women with their imps of children!

It was after ten o'clock before I entered the mess room to report my return, (having first placed my precious flowers in safety). I found the apartment redolent of the savoury odours of dinner and cigars, and occupied by a larger party than usual; all of whom were in loud and eager debate on the respective merits of the favourites for the approaching Doncaster meeting. As soon as they perceived me through the cloudy atmosphere, I was greeted with a perfect hurricane of queries, exclamations, and offers of fifty and a hundred to one, against divers and sundry horses, colts, and fillies.

"Where, in the name of mystery, have you been skulking?"

"Hullo! Egerton, you're the very man I wanted; give me the long odds against M——'s mare; you're sure to win, and it will just square my book."

"I say, Fred, I've backed 'Tearaway,' would you have me hedge off?"

"What has become of you; you have missed such a spread at the Mayor's, and such speeches as would have driven Murray to suicide."

"A hundred to five you don't name the winner."

"Ha! Egerton, just come back?"

"Keep cool, my dear fellows, and give me some claret."

I sat down, endeavouring in vain to enter clearly into the several subjects they were so eagerly discussing, and perfectly bewildered by the strong contrast the whole scene presented to my life for the last few days. Then followed long weary debates on the coming event, interspersed with anecdotes of the villainy of certain trainers and the intense knowingness of the jockies. Finally, I began to take some interest in the details; the result partly of habit, and partly of an effort to do so, lest any appearance of pre-occupation might set my brother officers on the scent to discover its course. I was successful—for Sedley exclaimed, "I never saw Egerton return from one of his philosophic expeditions with his wits so much about him."

"By the way, you've been over to that tumble down old place A——; is it worth seeing?" said another.

"Yes, to a lover of the picturesque and antique, but it has nothing else to attract."

"Ah! that will do; I do not care for the picturesque."

"Were you successful in your search?" asked Burton imprudently.

"For what?" called out half a dozen.

"For the picturesque, of course," he replied. I breathed again.

"Yes, particularly successful." He smiled, and shrinking from the thought of my companions getting the slightest clue to his real meaning, especially in their present mood, I rose and bid them all good-night, having endured their Babel for more than two hours.

"And you will not sport even a pony on the Leger?"

"No, not a sixpence, I was bitten too severely at Ascot last spring."

"Never say die, you're not going to knock under to your luck that way?"

"I am, though, and I wish I could persuade you to do the same, Vavasour," said I, laughing, and laying my hand on the shoulder of an aristocratic looking stripling who had joined about six months before, and who coloured to the eyes at the idea of advice on prudence.

"Egerton is about to abjure the pomps and vanities of this wicked world," said one.

"He has been en retrait with Grab'em-all, the field preacher," said another.

I laughed. "Perhaps it was as pleasant as yours with Levi Solomons, and Co., last March," said I.

He reddened, but laughing good humouredly, shook his hand at me.

"Go your own way, old fellow."

"It has always been my habit, and I intend to continue it," said I coolly, and made my exit.

Refusing Burton's offer of a visit to my room, on the plea of fatigue, I threw myself in an arm chair I called my study, as I generally sat in it when disposed for thought, and tried to arrange my entangled ideas into something like order; the attempt, however, was not very successful.

Sundry rough calculations as to my chances of clearing off certain debts, and my probable amount of income; a perfect conviction that Kate Vernon was the loveliest girl, and her grandfather the most perfect old gentleman I had ever met; a vivid recollection of my past visit, and an indistinct intention of doing or saying something remarkably distinguished on my next; a vague haunting wish for some truer and more real interest than my life had ever hitherto known; such were a few of the elements in my reverie, and round them all floated a dim consciousness of Mrs. Winter's cap, and Miss Araminta Cox's yellow turban. I felt the strength of old habits returning in the levity which mingled even with my better aspirations; and fell asleep, feeling I had got a glimpse of happiness such as Nature had endowed me with capabilities of enjoying, but between which and myself circumstances had fixed a great gulf.

Of course I told Burton all my proceedings, and to do him justice he really seemed to take an interest in them, but he laughed a little at the Arcadian style of early tea and hot cakes. Burton, though still a "sub," was my senior in age by at least a couple of years; he had not been in the Regiment long, and knew nothing of the Vernons; indeed, the only officers still among us who had experienced the hospitality of Dungar, were Dashwood, now our Colonel, Hauton, and myself. I felt I ought to mention having met our old and popular acquaintance, yet I did not quite like doing so. Our Colonel was a fine, high-minded, gentleman-like fellow, who never forgot a kindness or remembered a spite. I would rather have wished him to know Vernon was within reach; but Hauton, I always disliked him, he was a cold-hearted roué, and I would almost rather have been accessory to the introduction of Satan to our first mother, than let Hauton get the entrée of Kate Vernon's refined and tranquil home. At the thought, a vision of it and the inscription over its entrance rose up before me. However, as it would have a strange effect if Colonel Dashwood was by any chance to meet Vernon and find I had concealed my rencontre with him, I determined to mention it, but in a casual way, hinting at the same time his change of fortune, which I knew would prevent Hauton from taking any vivid interest in his former hospitable entertainer.

It was not easy to get a quiet half hour in the Barracks, especially at the present exciting period—the approaching Doncaster meeting; so in order to enjoy an uninterrupted conference, Burton and I mounted our horses, and took the least frightful of the roads round Carrington. I endeavoured to convey to my companion some idea of the impression stamped on my mind by the few days I had spent at A——; its peace and simplicity, it's freedom from monotony and ennui! but it would not do; Burton was, as I think I have said, a kind-hearted, high minded fellow, but singularly free from imagination. I fancy he had met a few harder rubs in his contact with the world than I had; not that he ever talked of his own circumstances, but it was evident he was not rich.

"All this is very fine," said he, at the end of my elaborate description, "and you might like the novelty of the thing for a week or so; but take my word for it, at the end of a fortnight, you would be drawing comparisons between your philosophic society of painters and musicians, and that of your discarded Regiment, anything but favourable to the former."

"No, I do not believe it! I have for a long time felt a weariness and distaste for the life I am leading, without a notion or a hope of anything better; I do not know why, except that at thirty one begins to tire of the eternal sameness of the mess table, country quarters, slow promotion, and no very particular occupation. Up to five and twenty, military life may have its charms, but then it begins to lose its soi disant attractions. I suppose it was the dearth of variety, and the vain hope of getting up something like excitement, that induced me to make a fool of myself by plunging into various extravagances of late; they will cost me dear enough; I wish they had put me to a desk instead of buying me a commission. It's too bad to think that at my age I am no further on in the world than I was at eighteen, and unfit for anything except leading a charge or riding a steeple chase; and the brute that gave us a great dinner the other day, and bored Sedley about his 'Ock,' what was his name? 'Mogg?' ay Mogg! How old do you think the savage?"

"Fifty-five, perhaps."

"Not more than twenty-five years my senior, and began life, as an errand boy! I should like to know what and where I shall be at fifty-five; a wretched old half-pay; speculating how long I can make a ten-and-sixpenny hat last; with a bed-room in Leicester Square, and my address at the Senior United Service Club; and mine was a boyhood of bon bons, bowing tutors, and Shetland ponies."

"Why, Egerton, you are quite eloquent! I think your excursion to A—— has only served to open your eyes to the miseries you were before unconscious of; I'd prefer happy ignorance; I conclude the English of all this is, that Miss Vernon's angelic voice and beautiful eyes incline you to matrimony, while common sense warns you off, eh?"

"Pshaw! nonsense! I am not going to declare Miss Vernon is essential to my existence; I dare say I shall have to scramble through life without such companionship; but I do not hesitate to say, I would be a happier man if I thought I had a chance of it; ay, and a better one," I added, after a pause. "I might have some pretension to think of matrimony but for my own confounded folly in incumbering my younger son's portion, as I have done;" and I stuck the spurs into my unfortunate horse's sides, who resented the injustice, by a series of wild plunges, and gave me some trouble to reduce him to order.

After walking our horses on for a few paces in silence, Burton said gravely, "I see this is more serious than I at first thought, but whatever your feelings may be, for God's sake, do not rush into any imprudent marriage; it is the most fatal mistake any man ever made; there's not one in a thousand who has the stuff in him to stand its accompaniments unflinchingly; a hundred to one but the consciousness of having dragged himself and the woman he loved into such a scrape, sours his temper and makes him a brute to his wife and a tyrant to his children. I have seen such examples, that I do believe the best proof of affection a poor man can give, is to fly at the first fire from Cupid's battery; and my advice to you is to avoid A—— and its attractions. Do not go on looking and insinuating a thousand things you can never accomplish; but which, in spite of all we say of their inconstancy, live in a girl's memory for many a day after we have forgotten all about it."

"By Jove! I must be a more conceited fellow than any in England, if I could for a moment imagine that Miss Vernon would waste a thought on me when I was out of her sight; I wish you could just hear her easy unembarrassed way of begging me to be sure to return; it was the coolest address I ever received from a young lady; her heart and mind seem too well filled to be easily accessible; yet—but I dare not try; you speak truly, Burton, about imprudent marriages; still, I think, it would be worth a struggle to get my affairs into training. I would not ask any woman to marry into poverty, but one might be satisfied with competence and"—

"Just the way all men argue when they want to do a foolish act; what would be competence to a man of your habits?"

"Nevertheless, I'll think about it, and look up Egerton; he ought to have bowels of compassion for his brother as well as for every benighted blackamoor under the sun; and his expenses are, I believe, limited to subscribing to all kinds of Evangelical Missions."

"Do you mean then seriously to contemplate——?"

"Burton! pray do not look so dismal; I tell you it's a long look out; I do not know what I shall do."

"You'll go over to A—— in spite of my warning?"

"Oh, I must; I promised Miss Vernon; believe me, I am the only one likely to suffer from my imprudence; and then I will return no more till I have seen Egerton; or—in short, let us just cross the country here, the corn seems all cut, and it will break in the horses for the hunting."

In accordance with my determination, I seized the first interval in a rather professional conversation between Colonel Dashwood and a retired General he had invited to dinner, to tell him of my accidental meeting with his old acquaintance; sinking the fact, however, of his having a grand-daughter.

"What, old D'Arcy Vernon, of Dungar," he exclaimed; "how curious! and so he is living there, is he? I am sorry to hear it, he must have left Dungar then in toto?"

"Or Dungar left him," sneered Hauton. "It was en route, if I am not much mistaken, when we were there."

"The first day I can, I'll go over to A——, and bring back the old Colonel with me," said our good natured Commander. "I owe him a vast amount of hospitality, and shall be too glad to show him I have not forgotten it; poor fellow! at his age; he must be more than seventy-five!"

"He looks remarkably well," I said, "just the same as ever."

"The Irish have such happy temperaments," said Dashwood, turning to the General.

"Yes, they are like the Niggers in many respects," said Hauton; "the more you beat them the better they be."

I restrained my inclination to shy a decanter at his head with great difficulty.

The ten succeeding days went over wonderfully well; I found the promised drawings of Dungar for Kate, and worked up the sketch I had taken of the Priory, to the very best of my abilities. I took long rides with Burton, and often without him, not finding him so congenial as I wished. I wrote a long letter to my sister, and made all proper enquiries for Lady Desmond, without, however, explaining the cause of my curiosity. It was so long since I had seen Mary; I did not know how her heart had stood the wear and tear of four years' dissipation. How fond we were of each other, as children!

Finally, I wrote to Colonel Vernon, telling him about Dashwood and all the gossip I could think would amuse him; sending a message to Kate as to the drawings, and promising to be over with them in the course of the following week.

Altogether, I was much too busy to look into my own affairs, but promised myself to overhaul them completely on my return from A——. I secured a week's leave, and determined to throw care to the dogs, and enjoy myself thoroughly. I started before almost any one, except Burton (whose habits were quiet and regular), was visible. He joined me as I stood on the steps, while my servant was placing my carpet bag and portfolio in the cab which was to convey me to the Railway.

"So you're going, are you?"