Part 30 (1/2)
In the mean time, the young man, hiding his curly head first in one drawer, then in another, brayed certain mysterious compounds in a mortar, and, dissolving the nauseous mixture, poured it into a fresh bottle, packing the whole carefully in paper, with string and sealing-wax, not handing it to Miss Ross till, in spite of her impatience, he had copied, in fair and legible writing, the whole label attached to the discarded vessel. This last bore no name, but on it were minute directions as to how the draught must be taken, and the address at which it was to be left.
There was less to pay than she expected; but she had not intended to be absent from her boy so long, and, seizing the packet with impatience, dashed out of the shop to hurry home.
There was no shady side of the street. An afternoon sun beat fiercely on her raven hair, not in the least protected by the wisp of lace, with a leaf in it, that const.i.tuted her bonnet. She had slept but little in the last forty-eight hours, and eaten less. Crossing the Fulham Road, everything seemed to turn round with her; the roar, as of a thousand carriages, surged in her ears. She thought she was being run over, and, making an effort to reach the kerbstone, staggered, tripped, and fell.
A very handsome horse, with too much plating on his harness, was pulled hard on his haunches; a brougham, painted and varnished like a new toy, stood still with a jerk, and a woman's voice from the interior exclaimed, in high accents of condemnation and command:
”Why don't you stop, you infernal idiot? You've knocked the woman down, and now you want to drive over her!”
Kate Cremorne habitually jumped at conclusions. On the present occasion she jumped also out of her carriage, with exceeding prompt.i.tude, and lifted Miss Ross off the ground almost before the bystanders knew the latter had fallen. Glancing at the packet still clutched tightly in her hand, she summoned a benevolent drayman to the rescue, and, with the a.s.sistance of that worthy, who testified unqualified approval of the whole proceeding, and called both ladies ”pretty dears” more than once during its performance, placed the poor drooping sufferer in the carriage, and directed her groom to drive without delay--”like smoke,” I am afraid, was the expression she used--to the address she had so quickly mastered. Then, and not till then, she produced smelling-bottle, fan, and laced handkerchief to restore her charge to consciousness.
In Brompton, you see, as in Samaria of old, are to be found those who bear in mind the great parable that has made the name of Samaritan synonymous with the most Christian-like of all Christian virtues.
Had Kate ”pa.s.sed on, on the other side,” she would not have spoiled an extremely expensive morning-dress; she would not have been too late for one of the fastest and liveliest of Richmond dinner-parties; she would not have missed the man of all others in London who most wished to meet _her_. But to none of these did she give a thought nor a sigh while she bathed Jin's pale temples with eau-de-cologne, and rested the dark drooping head on her snowy bosom, pressing it to her own warm, wilful, reckless, restless heart.
It was not till they reached her remote and shabby refuge, that Miss Ross came thoroughly to herself; but even then she looked so white and ill, that Kate would not hear of leaving her, but insisted on helping her up-stairs, and taking command at once as superintendent, head-nurse, in short, captain-general of the whole establishment.
Living, so to speak, on the border-land between good and bad society, Kate Cremorne knew Miss Ross perfectly well by sight, though Miss Ross did not know Kate Cremorne. The shrewd, practical, world-experienced girl saw the whole affair at a glance. Through her keen intellect flashed a history of perfidy, sorrow, penury, a sc.r.a.pe, a scandal, a reduced lady, and a half-acted romance. She had sufficient delicacy to conceal her recognition of Miss Ross; but it was Kate's nature to take the lead in whatever position she was placed, and it would not have been her had she failed to make everything airy and comfortable about the sufferer in ten minutes.
She dismissed her brougham, much to the admiration of the public, with directions to return in an hour; she sent the maid out for soup, and the landlady for wine; she did not even forget to order some cut flowers; she rustled up and down-stairs without waking Johnnie; she insisted on the front room, fortunately unoccupied, being at once got ready for Miss Ross, producing that best of references--a little _porte-monnaie_, with sovereigns in it. She took off her bonnet, made herself completely at home, kissed the sleeping child, and won the hearts of the people of the house almost ere Jin had thoroughly opened her eyes; and long before the brougham returned to carry her away she had put the invalid to bed, given her a basin of soup, with a gla.s.s of port wine in it, and was soothing her off to sleep, gently and quietly as a mother hushes a baby.
”You want rest, dear,” she whispered, smoothing the pillow with her strong white hand. ”I won't leave you till you're as sound as that beautiful boy in the next room. Then I'll go and sit with him till you wake, and after that I needn't bother you any more, unless you'll let me come and see you the first thing to-morrow morning.”
Jin smiled faintly, and opened her eyes.
”I don't know who you are,” she whispered; ”but you're the only kind-hearted woman I ever met in my life, except one. G.o.d bless you!”
Then her head sank back, and every nerve seemed to relax in the overpowering motionless sleep of utter exhaustion.
But Kate, watching her, looked very grave and thoughtful. She had not been used to blessings. Perhaps in her whole past she had never earned one so true and heartfelt before. The sensation was strange, almost oppressive, opening up a new series of hopes, feelings, interests, and reflections, with certain wistful misgivings, that she, fair, fast, flighty Kate Cremorne had hitherto mistaken the chief objects of existence, wasted her life, and thrown herself away.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A HOUSEHOLD KATE.
”What an odd girl you are, Kate!” said Mrs. Battersea, as the sisters sat at breakfast next morning in their pretty suburban garden, with a table drawn under the acacia-tree, and as many birds, roses, and strawberries about them as if they were a hundred miles from London.
”You lost the best chance yesterday that ever woman had, and all because you couldn't be in time for a train. My dear, I don't often scold; but it _does_ provoke me to see you throw yourself away. I begin to think you'll never _settle_, Kate. You're worse than I was; you're worse than I am _now_!”
”That's a bad state of things,” answered Kate saucily. ”I shouldn't have thought it possible. But what's the use of settling, Auntie.” The elder sister had once been taken for the younger's aunt, and the nickname had stuck to her. ”You talk as if I was some sort of mess on a kitchen hob.
Why _should_ I settle, and why do you stir me up? I'm very nice as I am.”
”So Mr. Goldthred seems to think!” answered her sister; ”and if you'd only been with us yesterday, you'd have had him to yourself the whole afternoon. I'm sure he was disappointed; and to see the barefaced way that odious little Rosie made up to him was quite sickening!
Kate--Kate--don't you want an establishment of your own?”
”What's the good?” replied the other, dipping a bit of cake in her coffee. ”I'm very happy as I am--
'O give me back my hollow tree, My crust of bread, and liberty!'
Freedom and simplicity, say I; communism, equality, and fraternity!”