KITTY.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 13, Issue 1064, 9 July 1869, Page 3

K IT T Y.

• IN THREE CHAPTERS. — CHAPTER IU. (From 'Chambers' Journal.') There came the day for the picnic to Ash- • bury Hall. It was fine and sunny, and laden with tho beautiful scent pf flowers ; • and, inasmuch as Kitty Courtney knew ifc -.. would bring her to Abel Musgrave, she thought all things Were fine and sunny, and . laden with beautiful flower-scent too. With a certain utterance echoing in her ears, with its unhindered music making her raise her hands joyously, to hide her impatient and longing eyes, it was just the shelter that it should be, to stray into Ashbury woods out of the blaze of the hot July sun. Kitty had been in the park now perhaps twO Jiours. She" ahd Mrs. Courtney, and some half-dozen other ladies, -had arrived as pioneers, to attend to the unpacking of the hampers ; and now that this was seen to, and it was time for tho company to come, Kitty had left My Lady's Oak-tree, that was the rendezvous, and: had "strayed • away. She sat where she could see the guests as they drove in, and where she would stay till she saw Abie Musgrave. He was her whole * entertainment. Why waa sho there,' if~it were not that she might be with him ? And had he come ? Not yet ; and Kitty still sat on. The lime-tree avenue was merry with dog-cart, "and wagonette, and phaeton, as they rolled briskly. in ; bufc not one - of them held Abie. And then horsemen came, alone, or in clusters in two. or three; and through - the massy foliage she could recognise them all, and not one was Abie. But she sat on > getting weary of vain looking,* sick from de- • ferred hope, tearing up fern-leaves she had gathered, strewing the petals of the dogroses into a little heap at her feet* More > gentlemen were riding "quipkly dowh the a- . venue, but no Abie. The hotel ' sociable* . was as crowded as it could bear, but it did not bring Abie. And now Kitty must go away. The company must be all come, it • must be time for tea,, and she must leave the bowering hazel-trees with this weeping : heart within her, and go. away. But, there was one chance left. Abie might have gone the otherroad. There was a bridle-path leading through the spinny, and if ho had had Old Sol lent him, he was sure to. have chosen that. How absurd not to .have thought of that before ; how ridiculous to have forgotten it, and to have sat hankering there! _: :.-. o Out from the little wood, thenj Kitty walked ; across the avenue, by the syringabeds; over the soft dry turf, up to My Lady's Oak. Happy faces gave greeting everywhere — merry tongues ; but still ho Abie Musgrave. — Smart young men, smarter still by roses or heather-blossom set about their hats, were carrying cakes, and creams, and custards, and placing them round the ' knoll ; smarter girls, who would not have had their hats disturbed • for • all the wildflowers in the world> were hurrying after those, for glad mischief, undoing tlieir work directly it was done ; children, as heedless and noisy as they should be, careered about amongst crOckery and baskets, getting inextricably involved with dishes of fowl and ham ; and burly fathers and • contented married men were overlooking all with a broad warm smile, that' meant they felt their being there a little condescending, but thafc there might be somewhat of satisfaction in the doings after all. Here, also, were the Folletts, and every tribe and variety of the Folletts, amidst such piles of damson-cheesO, and ratafias, and candied-covered buns, ifc seemed the simple spreading of them would take an hour more ; and here, too, was handsome and active Mrs. Courtney, with a word for. Kitty directly she saw her come. "Catherine," the word ran — and Mrs. Courtney spoke from a cluster of restlessminded, matrons anxious for the quality of the tea — " you can fill the sugar-basins with sugar, and send some - one for more boiling-water from the lodge ; and get the ' spoons out from the little Tunbridge basket; and go round all tlio people who have come." So Kitty did as she was bid ; ahd then went on her little : mission from busy group to group. To the lake's . edge, whero young folks sat upon -- the grass, and chatted; to the little brook, where the willows grew so thickly, she had to go right down to a pretty arbour io see if any one were in it ; to the crisp-turfed terraces, where, children were having 1 eager and heated runs ; to the path in the shadow ' of the great Hall windows; 'to. the laurel thicket ; to the head of tlio little beechgrove. And people trooped to the rendezvous at her call, leaving all tlieir loiteringplaces in one gaily coloured stream;. but - she saw no Abie — she came t6 ho Abie Musgrave ! Surely, Kitty thought, : sho must chance upon him now! Ho would be in tho shelter of this plane-tree, on the seat behind this weeping-ash,— rNo. Kitty " went further still, with her heart growing so vexed and fretted, her usual cheerfulness was getting changed to tears ; but she could find no Abie. Not in the peach- walk; - not by the marble sun-dial ; not ridinglate now as it was— along the avenue ; not; by tho flower-beds stretched before the house. She must go back, then, .to My Lady's Oak. She had emptied the pleasure, garden thoroughly. Thore was no one else to be seen, why linger any longer now S , .• Back, therefore, Kitty went ; so out of . heart, she could have flown away;. so but of heart, that if any one had spoken to her, she would have liked to have laid her hands . about their face. Back across the avenue ; by the odour-laden syringa-beds (how languidly they smelt I how even these nearly made Kitty faint and ory !) ; over the soft dry turf, up to My Lady's Oak. Kitty's steps went faster. Musgrave must bo there now ; she must soort meet him, and see the love so strongly moving > her lighting on his faco I Surely he Would : not have staid away I Surely, after that talk with hor in the minster porch, he. would not have missed this chance of being ather :sido I He must be seeking her as eagerly .as she was seeking him I • No ; there was no Abie : not with those . with their filled plates already on. their knees; not with those who had just thrown* . .' themselves upon the grass ; not with' those) who wore yet laughingly straggling in. 'He had not come ; he had not meant to come* . . It had never been his thought to come-;- ' and he had no care whether she were here „ or not. And overborne by this conviction, Kitty seated herself away from all., tho' ; babbling idlers who seemed to have all they could desire, and amidst the unloveliness of empty baskets and strewn cloths, sat disconsolate and alone. Mrs. Courtney discovered her the instant . thore was a little lull. "Catherine," k%fi__ '. cried out, "what are you doing there), A,. Como here, child, for some of Sophia's nice' hot tea!" . '. • : -. ; "No, thank you, raimraa," Kitty saicL ' "Send me some, and I shall be I"very1 "very glad";*, but lam tired, too tired to come." 1 ;. A couple of tbe beaux, with flower-gar-.;,, lands on their hats, sprang to her inde^ directly her mother spoke, and held out -„ each a hand to help her to her feet, "Go back!" sho cried petulantly .to; ' these. "When lam hot and tired, I am . . like the babies, I grow very bross and peevish ; and if any otic comes near me, I will stone them off!" "■'.', She mußt come, they said. She. must. . allow them to take her to Jinny Follett, ; who had the most ravishing Venice-cake and raspberries anybody had ever seen. She must consent. One, twoj three, and ..' tho remove would be done. " I cannot !" Kitty cried but a^aW •■■'*< 'l^t would rather stay, here 1 Lot me have -m£ way I" • - '■}-.. --a. "-• -i A :■.«*■*■■

"Nonsense!" rung out Mrs. Courtney, aiding the young men with her authoritative tongue. . " You have my permission to bring* her ofyour will, if she won't come of her own 1" . " You are great bears," Kitty tossed out, as she was -obliged to yield. '"You are jailers !. You are spies I I will be as mischievous as possible ! I will worry you all lean!" .- And Kitty sat ahd played at pouting, to cover_ier chagrin ; and she leaned upon the grass and pulled it, and picked the daisies into shreds. Ah me 1 thero was no word mentioned of Abio Musgrave. Kitty listened hard for that. She would have recovered some liking for the company, if they had shewn a little care: she could have melted into her ordinary badinage, if, by some stray chance, t.hey had satisfied her mind; but they seemed to forget there was an Abel Musgrave ; and she sat and began to hate herself and everybody, and to: feel she could not keep down tho aching at her heart. The tea went on~-with much running up and down the: little knoll, much upsetting of plates and spoons; the girls were overbrimming . with their friskiness, the boys quite as frisky as the girls. Kitty's silence was taken by them for caprice and waywardness, and made, to do duty so for plenty of merriment more* Biscuit-pellets were fired at her, and sugar-shell. She was teased with offers of every dish, and worried into play ;. sho was forced to hurl countermissiles, compelled to take up the position of a besieged, castle, and-beat her assailants back ; with her heart yearning— with the only thing she would have done —-the only word' she , would Ihave spoken, being tp> watch and ask for Abel Musgrave.— Wl«jt r had kept him? Had; he sent word Is,, couldn't come ?— --she was obliged to fence and parry, to snap out a threat or a repartee;, and it was only, when some newer target, offered that her tormentors left her finally in peace; and then she held her head down, that no one might see her face, and she fretted miserably at the crushing end that had come to her hopeful day. There came- a stir. With her head still turned away, with her- heart still full, Kitty was conscious of a slight commotion near her, and a sudden stoppage to the rattle of the spoons. A half-dozen young men bustled to their feet, and waved- their hats and handkerchiefs in the air. There was a gig being driven along the avenue ; and as it came quickly, and drew nearer, Kitty, even with her lowered head, saw. the driver was Stephen Biddulph, the cheery widower, whom. she had never missed, bringing with him the Abie Musgrave she had missed so painfully ; she had thought that in another moment she must have cried ! She would not raise her happy eyes then ; she must hide the cheeks that had such an exulting flush upon them, or they would tell her tale at once; so she plucked at the grass still, crushing the daisies and : clover-heads into Uttle fairy balls, throwing them down the knoll ceaselessly, to occupy her nervous hands. She dared not speak; the sudden triumph after her deadening pain, had brought such ecstasy, she longed, only to leave the busy feasters, and enjoy her gladness out alone. And there was; no need for her to step into the front* Musgrave had a multitude of hands extended, to him, to assist him from the gig, .to welcome him when he was seated on the ground; so she kept her head down while sho took her tea ; she made all the haste she could; and then stole down fco the willows overhanging the little brook. There, was a wooden bridge spanning the tiny thread of water, and. Kitty crossed it and walked into the shrubbery beyond, She Was crowned now; she had begun, her reign ; she had only now to stretch out her hand and grasp the jewels she had- been longing for, and her exultation would be complete., She did not bound and hurry when she had consciousness of this ; she only: trod on triumphantly, feeding on her happiness, anticipating the quick coming harvest of her joy ; and when she had lifted up her face to feel the cool air, slio. turned back to join the party, that she might realise her dream. She could see My Lady's Oak when sho made her turn ; she could not see Abie though, and she was . wondering who had helped him to move far away, when, looking down, she saw him, only a^ few steps from her, sitting at the foot of the wooden bridge. . He had nofc heard her come. She had time to note his attitude, his aspect— the willows over him— the wild-flowers to the very brink of the brook, before he raised his eyes, and knew that she was there. Then Kitty would have had him fly to her— she would have flown to him— she would have had him take her to him unasked and undisputed t without a wavering word ; but though there was pleasure in the face thafc swiftly recognised her, it seemed to Kitty she saw nothing more, and sho was chilled to her heart's core, and her ecstasy died right away. "I didnot hope any one would be coming here/ said Musgrave, looking up at her as sho leaned on the wooden rail. ".It was the .-quiet—it was that that brought me ; 'and Kitty spoke with a great deep pang. She shut her eyes, too, painfully, and sighed, and would have passed by. Abie cried to her; "stay, now you ate here. Because I didn't hope for you, that is no reason not to be glad." f* 'But I came for quiet/ fretted Kitty, unable to bear the agony of her wound: ' * and I can have no quiet if I stay." m <?Mwtl oome for you?" asked Musgrave, signing to a seat by his side. " Will you hot sit here without being made f" No ; Kitty dared not. It was too cruel to her, this, communion with Abie, and then the communion ending where it had begun. She shook her head. But— this, outer daricftees was so killing, that lost light so sweet ! and she was but a woman — and-r-and— she would 1 - . Womanlike, though,: she would be asked again, " I will' Stay here, " she said. "I will not go away, but I will stay where I •m." ««No," urged Abie. " Talk loses by the distance between us now, and you know I cannot easily get to you I Pray, come 1" '.'But why!" was Kitty's luring. "I don t like to move unless I know why." VX wfll not tell you till you are here," •aid Musgrave, Ids tones almost drawing her to hfrfjide. " Then, if you will listen, you Bh**U;hs»j-y 'Come 1" So]' .Kitty stole down— round the overha^ng willows, down the moss-grown bank; with slops thafc lengthened out the distaSce (she did hot know why), and with a iß^y treacherous heart; and then ehe knelt upon the grass by Abie, seated herself, •juidhe took her hand. '^i:hadnp ; greeting when I came," he said, " and so I may have it now." •w!?!?*^ 01 * W° .W J»tei" broke out. Kitty, , 'fWeV- was.Abio's answer, "to tell you the truth, I did not think to get here at all/ $bjui Was not the speech to make Kitty's lip„keep still. A l .Perhaps yon did not tgm Hnhe said,; her cheek very pale. "Why, for that," said Musgrave, not looking '.atthe face .melting m cruelly at his j "what is Ashbury Hall, or anywhere, to^f" 'AXpu nflght^~*cried Kitty, so near an outbreak .now sh.e;was.on the very verge— •'you might have liked— have Jiked to— to .__^Foi»%jß*3»rf - %Mnp^i"&qty>6i% Mufegyave, looking $_*■_ *t ttw S*U, fte ffrcyej, the avenue*,

—■■■■■■ »*■— o— ■ - with a broad sweeping eyo. "What is it that friends can do for me ?" Kitty's tears broke into a full sharp shower. Spite of her striving, spite of the strong curb, they fell in a hard hot burst, and she started up to fly away. ■ "" Kitty, Kitty !" Abie cried, catching at her skirt. She would not stay. She had been so full of love to this man, the agony of her swift overthrow was more than she could bear. Over the bridge she meant to go, out into the little thicket, where the same trees that had witnessed the confession of her joy should look on whilst it was laid low. But she gave one glance at the brook side where death had come to her, and she saw Abie raising himself, with a speed perilous to his enfeebled limb, that he might get to her and pluck her back. " Kitty, Kitty 1" rang his cry again ; and his arms were out that she might come. And the trees looked down upon a different hasting, and the willows fluttered with another cry. Kitty turned— back upon tho smooth bank, down upon the short crisp grass ; and Abie snatched her, and drew her closely to his breast " Little girl !" he cried—" little girl I has it come to this V No answer for him ; nothing but the dear head close upon his breast. "Why, little girl!" was; his cry again. "My Kitty I Isn't this littlegirl's faith as strong as mine ?" Kitty found faint voice through her tears then. "I have no faith atall/'she sobbed ; "I am very foolish ; very weak." "Why, Kit," cried Abie, kissing tho lips that had spoken to him, and the eyes that again sank low, "have I been cruel? Ought I not to havo relied on you being •strong?" ■ "You are the best," sobbed Kitty. "It '"is only I who am not good ; it is my weak fault. Forgive me, and let me go." " Go !" cried Abie, holding her more tight. "Now I have once had you, yon shall never go away I No, little Kitty ! My little Kitty I You must stay now I" "But you never would!" said Kitty, through her sobs— "never would, if I had not been sb weak ! You will mock at me by-and-by 1" "Why, Kit, listen!" cried Abio. "I never should have held back without a word, if I had not loved you as I do ! I meant to have worked hard — the hardest ; to have denied myself everything ; to have had no expense I could have done without ; so that in three years, perhaps, I should have worked myself back to what I was beforo ; and then, my Kitty, love, I should have come to you, the crown of all my labouring, and told yOu what I tell you now. Are you clear, my Kitty, about that ?" "Yes." And Kitty let the kisses fall upoii her lips, and did not take her held hand away. " I did not speak," Abie went on, " because I would not have any ono looking shy. upon you. Do yOu understand ?" "Yes," was again Kitty's one word of answer ; but this time the sobs began to die away, " I might have lost you so, I know," said Abie : " that was my only fear. But I was almost sure, Kitty; and if I luxd been mistaken, it would only have proved that it was better I had never told ! It would have shewn you didn't care, Kitty. Do you see it all now?" There came from Kitty just the anticipation of a smile. "But if you didn't tell me," she asked, "if you never spoke, how was I to know ?" . The kisses fell swiftly and frequently at this. "You should have known," cried Abie, "that I couldn't see you without thinking you the dearest little Kitty in the world I and if you loved me, you should have been certain that I loved you ! " " I wish," cried Kitty, with the sparkle of her usual self— "l wish, to tease you, I dared deny now that I do !" Abie's response to which was impeded much by kisses; bufc it went, as Kitty's quick ears understood it : " You merry Kit ! How could I know such a great deep water- , fall was under a face like this 1" And at night, when the sun had turned from gold to gray, and the moon had crept up silently to her work, Kitty left the old woods and park of Ashbury to get back with her mother to the Combe, and a pretty confidence she had to mingle with her affection and her chat. She had to tell of Abie ; of what he had said to her ; of the time it would take to work himself free. He and she had thought to be just as thoy were, she said ; to have no engagement beyond an understanding that they wero tied together by a great strong love. And then, when Abie was what he hoped to be, he would come to the Combe to say what he had to say, and then — and then — why, Kitty would liko to know what papa and mamma would answer in return 1 Mr, Courtney put his hands out with only feeble comprehension of what she told. " You are my own little girl, Kitty J" was his plea. "You mustn't leave your poor old father I You mustn't go away J" But Mrs. Courtney's comment was pitched to a very different tone. Gracious, Catherine I" she cried, "is that why you staid so ■ long at Abel Musgravo's side J I saw you sitting there ; but I never thought it would i have come to this. Why, child, the man isonlyjust recovering from ruin; and to think of youi" Nevertheless, when the three years were over, there was no "No." Good luck came to aid Musgravo's good endeavour ; and when people saw to what an establishment he had returned, they began to hint that Mrs. Courtney had managed very well, and that perhaps Kitty couldn't have done better, even had she tried !