Countess Kate | Page 7

to say niece!--'I deferred writing to you upon the
melancholy--' oh, what is it, Sylvia?"
"The melancholy comet!"
"No, no; nonsense."
"Melancholy event," suggested Mary.
"Yes, to be sure. I can't think why grown-up people always write on
purpose for one not to read them.--'Melancholy event that has placed
you in possession of the horrors of the family.'"
"Horrors!--Kate, Kate!"
"Well, I am sure it IS horrors," said the little girl rather perversely.
"This is not a time for nonsense, Kate," said Mr. Wardour; and she was
subdued directly.
"Shall I read it to you?" said Mary.
"Oh, no, no!" Kate was too proud of her letter to give it up, and applied
herself to it again.--"'Family honours, until I could ascertain your
present address. And likewise, the shock of your poor cousin's death so
seriously affected my sister's health in her delicate state, that for some
days I could give my attention to nothing else.' Dear me! This is my
Aunt Barbara, I see! Is Aunt Jane so ill?"
"She has had very bad health for many years," said Mr. Wardour; "and
your other aunt has taken the greatest care of her."
"'We have now, however, been able to consider what will be best for all
parties; and we think nothing will be so proper as that you should
reside with us for the present. We will endeavour to make a happy
home for you; and will engage a lady to superintend your education,
and give you all the advantages to which you are entitled. We have
already had an interview with a very admirable person, who will come
down to Oldburgh with our butler next Friday, and escort you to us, if
Mrs. Wardour will kindly prepare you for the journey. I have written to

thank her for her kindness to you.'"
"Mrs. Wardour!" exclaimed Sylvia.
"The ladies have known and cared little about Kate or us for a good
many years," said Mary, almost to herself, but in such a hurt tone, that
her father looked up with grave reproof in his eyes, as if to remind her
of all he had been saying to her during the long hours that the little girls
had waited.
"'With your Aunt Jane's love, and hoping shortly to be better
acquainted, I remain, my dear little niece, your affectionate aunt,
Barbara Umfraville.' Then I am to go and live with them!" said Kate,
drawing a long sigh. "O Papa, do let Sylvia come too, and learn of my
governess with me!"
"Your aunts do not exactly contemplate that," said Mr. Wardour; "but
perhaps there may be visits between you."
Sylvia began to look very grave. She had not understood that this great
news was to lead to nothing but separation. Everything had hitherto
been in common between her and Kate, and that what was good for the
one should not be good for the other was so new and strange, that she
did not understand it at once.
"Oh yes! we will visit. You shall all come and see me in London, and
see the Zoological Gardens and the British Museum; and I will send
you such presents!"
"We will see," said Mr. Wardour kindly; "but just now, I think the best
thing you can do is to write to your aunt, and thank her for her kind
letter; and say that I will bring you up to London on the day she names,
without troubling the governess and the butler."
"Oh, thank you!" said Kate; "I sha'n't be near so much afraid if you
come with me."
Mr. Wardour left the room; and the first thing Mary did was to throw
her arms round the little girl in a long vehement embrace. "My little
Kate! my little Kate! I little thought this was to be the end of it!" she
cried, kissing her, while the tears dropped fast.
Kate did not like it at all. The sight of strong feeling distressed her, and
made her awkward and ungracious. "Don't, Mary," she said,
disengaging herself; "never mind; I shall always come and see you; and
when I grow up, you shall come to live with me at Caergwent. And you
know, when they write a big red book about me, they will put in that

you brought me up."
"Write a big red book about you, Kate!"
"Why," said Kate, suddenly become very learned, "there is an immense
fat red and gold book at Mr. Brown's, all full of Lords and Ladies."
"Oh, a Peerage!" said Mary; "but even you, my Lady Countess, can't
have a whole peerage to yourself."
And that little laugh seemed to do Mary good, for she rose and began to
rule the single lines for Kate's letter. Kate could write a very tidy little
note; but just