And Aunt Jane put her soft arm round Kate, and put her cheek to hers. Perhaps the night of Kate’s tears had really made Jane resolved to try to soften even Barbara’s displeasure; and the little girl felt it very kind, though her love of truth made her cry out roughly, “Not half drowned! Mary held me fast, and Lord de la Poer pulled me out!”
“I am sure you ought to be extremely thankful to them,” said Lady Barbara, “and overcome with shame at all the trouble and annoyance you have given!”
Lady de la Poer quite understood what the little girl meant by her aunt being dreadful. She would gladly have protected her; but it was not what could be begged off like punishment, nor would truth allow her to say there had been no trouble nor annoyance. So what she did say was, “When one has ten children, one reckons upon such things!” and smiled as if they were quite pleasant changes to her.
“Not, I am sure, with your particularly quiet little girls,” said Aunt Barbara. “I am always hoping that Katharine may take example by them.”
“Take care what you hope, Barbara,” said Lady de la Poer, smiling: “and at any rate forgive this poor little maiden for our disaster, or my husband will be in despair.”
“I have nothing to forgive,” said Lady Barbara gravely. “Katharine cannot have seriously expected punishment for what is not a moral fault. The only difference will be the natural consequences to herself of her folly.—You had better go down to the schoolroom, Katharine, have your tea, and then go to bed; it is nearly the usual time.”
Lady de la Poer warmly kissed the child, and then remained a little while with the aunts, trying to remove what she saw was the impression, that Kate had been complaining of severe treatment, and taking the opportunity of telling them what she herself thought of the little girl. But though Aunt Barbara listened politely, she could not think that Lady de la Poer knew anything about the perverseness, heedlessness, ill-temper, disobedience, and rude ungainly ways, that were so tormenting. She said no word about them herself, because she would not expose her niece’s faults; but when her friend talked Kate’s bright candid conscientious character, her readiness, sense, and intelligence, she said to herself, and perhaps justly, that here was all the difference between at home and abroad, an authority and a stranger.
Meantime, Kate wondered what would be the natural consequences of her folly. Would she have a rheumatic fever or consumption, like a child in a book?—and she tried breathing deep, and getting up a little cough, to see if it was coming! Or would the Lord Chancellor hear of it? He was new bugbear recently set up, and more haunting than even a gunpowder treason in the cellars! What did he do with the seals? Did he seal up mischievous heiresses in closets, as she had seen a door fastened by two seals and a bit of string? Perhaps the Court of Chancery was full of such prisons! And was the woolsack to smother them with, like the princes in the Tower?
It must be owned that it was only when half asleep at night that Kate was so absurd. By day she knew very well that the Lord Chancellor was only a great lawyer; but she also knew that whenever there was any puzzle or difficulty about her or her affairs, she always heard something mysteriously said about applying to the Lord Chancellor, till she began to really suspect that it was by his commands that Aunt Barbara was so stern with her; and that if he knew of her fall into the pond, something terrible would come of it. Perhaps that was why the De la Poers kept her name so secret!
She trembled as she thought of it; and here was another added to her many terrors. Poor little girl! If she had rightly feared and loved One, she would have had no room for the many alarms that kept her heart fluttering!