LITMIR.BIZ

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at all worthy of her; but she had two chapters more of her story to read, and was so eager to see the end of it, that Mr. Wardour could hardly persuade her to look out and see the Thames when she passed over it, nor the Houses of Parliament and the towers of Westminster Abbey.

      At last, while passing through the brighter and more crowded streets, Kate having satisfied herself what had become of the personages of her story, looked up, and saw nothing but dull houses of blackened cream colour; and presently found the carriage stopping at the door of one.

      “Is it here, Papa?” she said, suddenly seized with fright.

      “Yes,” he said, “this is Bruton Street;” and he looked at her anxiously as the door was opened and the steps were let down.  She took tight hold of his hand.  Whatever she had been in her day-dreams, she was only his own little frightened Kate now; and she tried to shrink behind him as the footman preceded them up the stairs, and opening the door, announced—“Lady Caergwent and Mr. Wardour!”

      Two ladies rose up, and came forward to meet her.  She felt herself kissed by both, and heard greetings, but did not know what to say, and stood up by Mr. Wardour, hanging down her head, and trying to stand upon one foot with the other, as she always did when she was shy and awkward.

      “Sit down, my dear,” said one of the ladies, making a place for her on the sofa.  But Kate only laid hold of a chair, pulled it as close to Mr. Wardour as possible, and sat down on the extreme corner of it, feeling for a rail on which to set her feet, and failing to find one, twining her ankles round the leg of the chair.  She knew very well that this was not pretty; but she never could recollect what was pretty behaviour when she was shy.  She was a very different little girl in a day-dream and out of one.  And when one of the aunts asked her if she were tired, all she could do was to give a foolish sort of smile, and say, “N—no.”

      Then she had a perception that Papa was looking reprovingly at her; so she wriggled her legs away from that of the chair, twisted them together in the middle, and said something meant for “No, thank you;” but of which nothing was to be heard but “q,” apparently proceeding out of the brim of her broad hat, so low did the young countess, in her amiable simplicity, hold her head.

      “She is shy!” said one of the ladies to the other; and they let her alone a little, and began to talk to Mr. Wardour about the journey, and various other things, to which Kate did not greatly listen.  She began to let her eyes come out from under her hat brim, and satisfied herself that the aunts certainly did not wear either turbans or birds of paradise, but looked quite as like other people as she felt herself, in spite of her title.

      Indeed, one aunt had nothing on her head at all but a little black velvet and lace, not much more than Mary sometimes wore, and the other only a very light cap.  Kate thought great-aunts must be as old at least as Mrs. Brown, and was much astonished to see that these ladies had no air of age about them.  The one who sat on the sofa had a plump, smooth, pretty, pink and white face, very soft and pleasant to look at, though an older person than Kate would have perceived that the youthful delicacy of the complexion showed that she had been carefully shut up and sheltered from all exposure and exertion, and that the quiet innocent look of the small features was that of a person who had never had to use her goodness more actively than a little baby.  Kate was sure that this was aunt Jane, and that she should get on well with her, though that slow way of speaking was rather wearisome.

      The other aunt, who was talking the most, was quite as slim as Mary, and had a bright dark complexion, so that if Kate had not seen some shades of grey in her black hair, it would have been hard to believe her old at all.  She had a face that put Kate in mind of a picture of a beautiful lady in a book at home—the eyes, forehead, nose, and shape of the chin, were so finely made; and yet there was something in them that made the little girl afraid, and feel as if the plaster cast of Diana’s head on the study mantelpiece had got a pair of dark eyes, and was looking very hard at her; and there was a sort of dry sound in her voice that was uncomfortable to hear.

      Then Kate took a survey of the room, which was very prettily furnished, with quantities of beautiful work of all kinds, and little tables and brackets covered with little devices in china and curiosities under glass, and had flowers standing in the windows; and by the time she had finished trying to make out the subject of a print on the walls, she heard some words that made her think that her aunts were talking of her new governess, and she opened her ears to hear, “So we thought it would be an excellent arrangement for her, poor thing!” and “Papa” answering, “I hope Kate may try to be a kind considerate pupil.”  Then seeing by Kate’s eyes that her attention had been astray, or that she had not understood Lady Barbara’s words, he turned to her, saying, “Did you not hear what your aunt was telling me?”

      “No, Papa.”

      “She was telling me about the lady who will teach you.  She has had great afflictions.  She has lost her husband, and is obliged to go out as governess, that she may be able to send her sons to school.  So, Kate, you must think of this, and try to give her as little trouble as possible.”

      It would have been much nicer if Kate would have looked up readily, and said something kind and friendly; but the fit of awkwardness had come over her again, and with it a thought so selfish, that it can hardly be called otherwise than naughty—namely, that grown-up people in trouble were very tiresome, and never let young ones have any fun.

      “Shall I take you to see Mrs. Lacy, my dear?” said Lady Barbara, rising.  And as Kate took hold of Mr. Wardour’s hand, she added, “You will see Mr. Wardour again after dinner.  You had better dress, and have some meat for your tea, with Mrs. Lacy, and then come into the drawing-room.”

      This was a stroke upon Kate.  She who had dined with the rest of the world ever since she could remember—she, now that she was a countess, to be made to drink tea up-stairs like a baby, and lose all that time of Papa’s company!  She swelled with displeasure: but Aunt Barbara did not look like a person whose orders could be questioned, and “Papa” said not a word in her favour.  Possibly the specimen of manners she had just given had not led either him or Lady Barbara to think her fit for a late dinner.

      Lady Barbara first took her up-stairs, and showed her a little long narrow bed-room, with a pretty pink-curtained bed in it.

      “This will be your room, my dear,” she said.  “I am sorry we have not a larger one to offer you; but it opens into mine, as you see, and my sister’s is just beyond.  Our maid will dress you for a few days, when I hope to engage one for you.”

      Here was something like promotion!  Kate dearly loved to have herself taken off her own hands, and not to be reproved by Mary for untidiness, or roughly set to rights by Lily’s nurse.  She actually exclaimed, “Oh, thank you!”  And her aunt waited till the hat and cloak had been taken off and the chestnut hair smoothed, looked at her attentively, and said, “Yes, you are like the family.”

      “I’m very like my own papa,” said Kate, growing a little bolder, but still speaking with her head on one side, which was her way when she said anything sentimental.

      “I dare say you are,” answered her aunt, with the dry sound.  “Are you ready now?  I will show you the way.  The house is very small,” continued Lady Barbara, as they went down the stairs to the ground floor; “and this must be your school-room for the present.”

      It was the room under the back drawing-room; and in it was a lady in a widow’s cap, sitting at work.  “Here is your little Pupil—Lady Caergwent—Mrs. Lacy,” said Lady Barbara.  “I hope you will find her a good child.  She will drink tea with you, and then dress, and afterwards I hope, we shall see you with her in the drawing-room.”

      Mrs. Lacy bowed, without any answer in words, only she took Kate’s hand and kissed her.  Lady Barbara left them, and there was a little pause.  Kate looked at her governess, and her heart sank, for it was the very saddest face she had ever seen—the eyes looked soft and gentle, but as if they had wept till they could weep no longer; and when the question was asked, “Are you tired, my dear?” it was in a sunk tone, trying to be cheerful but the sadder for that very reason.  Poor lady! it was only that morning that she had parted with her son, and had gone away from the home where she had lived

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