Countess Kate | Page 9

And Kate meanwhile had her own views. And when all the good-byes
were over, and she sat by the window of the railway carriage, watching
the fields rush by, reduced to silence, because "Papa" had told her he
could not hear her voice, and had made a peremptory sign to her when
she screamed her loudest, and caused their fellow- travellers to look up
amazed, she wove a web in her brain something like this:- "I know
what my aunts will be like: they will be just like ladies in a book. They
will be dreadfully fashionable! Let me see--Aunt Barbara will have a
turban on her head, and a bird of paradise, like the bad old lady in
Armyn's book that Mary took away from me; and they will do nothing
all day long but try on flounced gowns, and count their jewels, and go
out to balls and operas--and they will want me to do the same--and play
at cards all Sunday! 'Lady Caergwent,' they will say, 'it is becoming to
your position!' And then the young countess presented a remarkable
contrast in her ingenuous simplicity," continued Kate, not quite
knowing whether she was making a story or thinking of herself--for
indeed she did not feel as if she were herself, but somebody in a story.
"Her waving hair was only confined by an azure ribbon, (Kate loved a
fine word when Charlie did not hear it to laugh at her;) and her dress
was of the simplest muslin, with one diamond aigrette of priceless
value!"
Kate had not the most remote notion what an aigrette might be, but she
thought it would sound well for a countess; and she went on musing
very pleasantly on the amiable simplicity of the countess, and the
speech that was to cure the aunts of playing at cards on a Sunday,
wearing turbans, and all other enormities, and lead them to live in the
country, giving a continual course of school feasts, and surprising
meritorious families with gifts of cows. She only wished she had a
pencil to draw it all to show Sylvia, provided Sylvia would know her
cows from her tables.
After more vain attempts at chatter, and various stops at stations, Mr.
Wardour bought a story-book for her; and thus brought her to a most
happy state of silent content, which lasted till the house roofs of
London began to rise on either side of the railway.
Among the carriages that were waiting at the terminus was a small

brougham, very neat and shiny; and a servant came up and touched his
hat, opening the door for Kate, who was told to sit there while the
servant and Mr. Wardour looked for the luggage. She was a little
disappointed. She had once seen a carriage go by with four horses, and
a single one did not seem 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