Countess Kate | Page 6

a very horrid job it was to do--it made my
fingers so sore."
"I did not know till this morning that his death would make any other
difference to you," continued Mr. Wardour. "I thought the title went to
heirs-male, and that Colonel Umfraville was the present earl; but, my
little Katharine, I find that it is ordained that you should have this great
responsibility."
"What, you thought it was the Salic law?" said Kate, going on with one
part of his speech, and not quite attending to the other.
"Something like it; only that it is not the English term for it," said Mr.
Wardour, half smiling. "As your grandfather was the elder son, the title
and property come to you."
Kate did not look at him, but appeared intent on the marks of the needle
on the end of her forefinger, holding down her head.
Sylvia, however, seemed to jump in her very skin, and opening her
eyes, cried out, "The title! Then Kate is--is--oh, what is a she- earl
called?"
"A countess," said Mr. Wardour, with a smile, but rather sadly. "Our
little Kate is Countess of Caergwent."
"My dear Sylvia!" exclaimed Mary in amazement; for Sylvia, like an
India-rubber ball, had bounded sheer over the little arm-chair by which
she was standing.
But there her father's look and uplifted finger kept her still and silent.
He wanted to give Kate time to understand what he had said.
"Countess of Caergwent," she repeated; "that's not so pretty as if I were
Lady Katharine."
"The sound does not matter much," said Mary. "You will always be
Katharine to those that love you best. And oh!--" Mary stopped short,
her eyes full of tears.

Kate looked up at her, astonished. "Are you sorry, Mary?" she asked, a
little hurt.
"We are all sorry to lose our little Kate," said Mr. Wardour.
"Lose me, Papa!" cried Kate, clinging to him, as the children scarcely
ever did, for he seldom made many caresses; "Oh no, never! Doesn't
Caergwent Castle belong to me? Then you must all come and live with
me there; and you shall have lots of big books, Papa; and we will have
a pony-carriage for Mary, and ponies for Sylvia and Charlie and me,
and--"
Kate either ran herself down, or saw that the melancholy look on Mr.
Wardour's face rather deepened than lessened, for she stopped short.
"My dear," he said, "you and I have both other duties."
"Oh," but if I built a church! I dare say there are people at Caergwent as
poor as they are here. Couldn't we build a church, and you mind them,
Papa?"
"My little Katharine, you have yet to understand that 'the heir, so long
as he is a child, differeth in nothing from a servant, but is under tutors
and governors.' You will not have any power over yourself or your
property till you are twenty-one."
"But you are my tutor and my governor, and my spiritual pastor and
master," said Kate. "I always say so whenever Mary asks us questions
about our duty to our neighbour."
"I have been so hitherto," said Mr. Wardour, setting her on his knee;
"but I see I must explain a good deal to you. It is the business of a court
in London, that is called the Court of Chancery, to provide that proper
care is taken of young heirs and heiresses and their estates, if no one
have been appointed by their parents to do so; and it is this court that
must settle what is to become of you."
"And why won't it settle that I may live with my own papa and brothers
and sisters?"
"Because, Kate, you must be brought up in a way to fit your station;
and my children must be brought up in a way to fit theirs. And
besides," he added more sadly, "nobody that could help it would leave
a girl to be brought up in a household without a mother."
Kate's heart said directly, that as she could never again have a mother,
her dear Mary must be better than a stranger; but somehow any
reference to the sorrow of the household always made her anxious to

get away from the subject, so she looked at her finger again, and asked,
"Then am I to live up in this Court of Chances?"
"Not exactly," said Mr. Wardour. "Your two aunts in London, Lady
Barbara and Lady Jane Umfraville, are kind enough to offer to take
charge of you. Here is a letter that they sent inclosed for you."
"The Countess of Caergwent," was written on the envelope; and Kate's
and Sylvia's heads were together in a moment to see how it looked,
before opening the letter, and reading:- "'My dear Niece,'--dear me,
how funny