He left them at an early hour (after an offer of books from his collection), considerably cheered by his visit. He had been much more agreeable than usual, indeed there was something in the noble manner of Colonel Vernon, in the grace and piquancy of his grandchild, in her perfect freedom from all idea of self; and spirited intelligent assumption of her right to think for herself—that attracted the taciturn, though well informed, Langley, in no common degree. He had a bad opinion of women in general—like many men, he divided them into two classes, fools and knaves; and could not imagine the combination of heart and intellect—yet Kate's original observations, surprised him by their freshness, while it was impossible to look upon her sweet, but noble countenance—and doubt that if ever the spirit of truth had stamped its impress on a human soul, that soul was hers.
CHAPTER VI.
RESIGNATION.
Nearly two months had elapsed since the Vernons left A——; and affairs wore much the same aspect as the first days of their arrival in town. Miss Herman had called on Kate, on her return from the Isle of Wight, and Kate had, selon les regles, returned the visit; and not liking to trespass on Herman's time, unnecessarily, had written merely to ask some trifling question, and thus, remind him of his promise; in reply to which, she received a vague assurance of his readiness to serve her, and a recommendation to patience.
Meantime, parliament was within a few days of its prorogation—town fast thinning—and the season, to all intents and purposes, over. This was indeed a trying time; and no portion of it so trying, as when the Colonel sunk into his evening sleep. Kate then ventured to release her thoughts from the books, or work, on which she always endeavoured to fix them, in his presence, lest he should think her pre-occupied or depressed; and sometimes gazing from the window, at the slowly closing evening—sometimes fixing her eyes on the beloved face, which, freed from constraint, bore a pained expression—too truly indicative of internal feeling—occasionally an uneasy sigh would escape him, or some muttered word; and, oh! the inexpressible tenderness and anguish that would then swell his grandchild's heart.
Did you ever watch one you loved, asleep? if not, you never knew of how much love your nature was capable; yet these communings with self, like Jacob's wrestling with the angel, left a blessing behind—though the frequent, bitter, passionate questions—"Why is it so? Why is he, who would turn aside, rather than tread upon a worm; whose strong, warm heart, was chiefly pleased in shewing mercy and pity—why is he thus tried, and left desolate, now when the years are come in which he has no pleasure?" would rise to her lips; and, hard, hard was it to suppress them, for Kate Vernon's heart beat with too strong, too passionate a pulse, not to feel that chastening was very grievous; nor could she frame unreal words of resignation—when the strong turmoil of her breast, lay open to the All-seeing—she could but cry, from out its troubled depths—"Behold, O Lord, and see!"
One morning, her grandfather was reading aloud to her—she sometimes made him do so—it fixed his attention more—when the door was opened suddenly, and a lady presented herself, unannounced. She was richly dressed in rather showy colors, and held a large embroidered lace-edged handkerchief in her hand. The Colonel and Kate both rose.