Part 40 (1/2)
”Evening.
”I have re-read your letter, and it seems to me that you might very judiciously remark yourself to Sir Gervais on the inexpediency of any continuance of Kate O'Hara's presence. Her genius, soaring as it does above poor Ada's, makes all emulation impossible. The pilot balloon, that is so soon out of sight, can offer no guidance--don't forget that!
Suppose you said to my brother that there was no longer any necessity to continue the stimulus of emulation--that it might become a rivalry--perhaps worse. Say something--anything of this kind--only send her home again, not forgetting the while that you can do now without injury what, later on, will cost a cruelty.
”I can feel for the pain a teacher may experience in parting with a prize pupil, whose proficiency might one day become a triumph; but remember, my dear Mademoiselle, that poor, dear, simple Ada, to whom genius is denied, is, or ought to be, your first care here, and that the gifted peasant-girl might turn out to have other qualities of a firework besides the brilliancy.
”I will, so fer as in me lies, relieve you from some of the embarra.s.sments that the course I advise might provoke. I will request my brother to desire Mr. M'Kinlay to run down and pay you a few hours'
visit, and you can easily explain the situation to him, and suggest what I here point out as the remedy.
”Of course, it is needless to repeat this letter is strictly and essentially confidential, and not to be imparted to any one.
”I might have counselled you to have taken the advice of Sir Within Wardle, of whose kindness and attention we are most sensible, if you had not told me of the extraordinary 'influence'--it is your own word, Mademoiselle, or I should not even have ventured to use it in such connexion--'the influence' this young girl exercises over Sir Within.
As the observation so completely pa.s.ses my power of comprehension, for I really--and I hope without needless stupidity--cannot understand how a girl of her cla.s.s, bringing up, and age--age, above all--could exert what you designate as 'influence'--I must beg you will be more explicit in your next.
”You are perfectly right in refusing all presents for either of the girls, and I should have thought Sir Within had more tact than to proffer them. I am also very much against you going to Dalradern Castle for Christmas, though Sir Gervais, up to this, does not agree with me.
If this girl should not be sent away before the new year, I think you might advantageously remark to my brother that the visit would be a great interruption to all study, and a serious breach of that home discipline it has been your object to impose. And now, my dear Mademoiselle, accept all I have here said not only in your confidence, but in your friends.h.i.+p, and even where I appear to you nervously alive to small perils, give me credit for having thought and reflected much over them before I inflicted on you this long letter.
”Discourage your prodigy, check her influence, and believe me, very sincerely your friend,
”Georgina Courtenay.
”P.S.--What can Sir W. mean by pa.s.sing his winter in the Welsh mountains, after giving orders to have his villa near Genoa prepared for his reception? Find out this, particularly if there be a secret in it.”
Mademoiselle Heinzleman received this letter as she was taking her half-hour's walk in the garden after breakfast--one of the very few recreations she indulged in--while her pupils prepared their books and papers for the day.
Anything like remonstrance was so totally new to her, that she read the letter with a mingled amazement and anger, and, though she read and re-read, in the hope of finding her first impression was an exaggerated one, the truth was that each perusal only deepened the impression, and made the pain more intense.
It was not that her German pride only was wounded, but her dignity as a teacher--just as national an instinct as the pride of birth--and she muttered very mysterious gutturals to herself, as she went, about resigning her trust and retiring. This was, perhaps, too rash a step; at least, it required time to think of. Two hundred a year, and a position surrounded with many advantages! The other alternative was easier to send away Kate. A pity, perhaps, but, after all, as Miss Courtenay said, possibly a mercy. Who could tell? Mr. M'Kinlay might help her by his counsel. She liked him, and thought well of him. Kate, that was making such progress--that could already make out some of Schiller's ballads!
What a pity it was! And to think of her touch on the piano, so firm and yet so delicate! How tenderly she let the notes drop in one of those simple melodies from Spohr she was learning! Ach Gott! and what taste in drawing!
Again she opened the letter, and at the last page muttered to herself: ”I don't remember that I said 'influence.' I'm almost sure I said that she interested Sir Within. I know I meant to say that she pleased him; that he was delighted to hear her sing her little Lied, dance her Tarantella, or her wild Irish jig, or listen to some of those strange legends, which she tells with a blended seriousness and drollery that is quite captivating. At all events, if I said 'influence,' I can correct the word, and say that Sir Within comes over to see us two or three times a week, and it is plain enough that it is little Kate's gaiety attracts him. What sorrow to the dear children if they are not to pa.s.s their Christmas at the Castle!”
A light, elastic step on the gravel startled her. It was Kate who was coming; not the Kate we once saw in the old ruins of St. Finbar, but a young lady, with an air calm and collected, with some conscious sense of power, her head high, her look a.s.sured, her step firm even in its lightness.
”Sir Within is in the drawing-room, Mademoiselle,” said she, with a slight curtsey, as she stood before her. ”He says that this is St.
Gudule's day, and a holiday everywhere, and he hopes you will be kind enough to take us over to the Castle for dinner.”
”Nein! No,” said she, peremptorily. ”'Wir haben keine solche Heilige,'
I mean,” said she, correcting the harsh speech. ”These saints are not in our calendar. I will speak to him myself. You may stay in the garden for a quarter of an hour. I will send Ada to you.”
While the young girl fell back, abashed at the refusal, and even more by the manner with which it was done, the governess smoothed her brow as well as she might to meet the distinguished visitor, but in so doing, as she drew her handkerchief from her pocket, she dropped the letter she had been reading on the walk.
”I wonder why she is so cross with me?” said Kate, as she looked after her; ”if there's a secret in it, I must learn it.”
While Kate O'Hara sauntered carelessly along her foot struck the letter, and it fell open. She stooped and picked it up, and was at once struck by the peculiar odour of jasmine on the paper, which was a favourite with Miss Courtenay. She turned to the address, ”Mademoiselle de Heinzleman”--the de, too, was a courtesy Miss Courtenay affected--and so Kate stood still contemplating the doc.u.ment, and weighing it in her hand, as she muttered, ”It does really feel heavy enough to be mischievous.” Her training had taught her to respect as inviolable the letter of another; she had over and over marked the deference paid to a seal, and seen even Ada's letters from her playfellows handed to her unbroken, and she knew that to transgress in such a matter ranked in morals with a falsehood. She had no thought, then, of any dereliction, when in placing the fallen pages together within the envelope, her eye caught the words ”Kitty O'Hara,” and lower down, ”child of a poor cottier.” The temptation, stimulated by a pa.s.sion fell as strong as curiosity, mastered her, and carrying away the letter into a secluded alley, she read it from end to end. There was much to gratify her vanity in it; there was the admission--and from no favouring witness either--that she had capacity of a high order, and a zeal to master whatever she desired to learn. But far above the pleasure these words afforded was the last paragraph, that which spoke of her ”influence”
over Sir Within Wardle. ”Could this really be true? Had the little attentions he showed her a deeper significance? Did he really interest himself for her? Was it her lonely, friendless condition touched him?