Little Kate Kirby
Robinson, F. W. (Frederick William), 1830-1901
<, • v.€ <■ ^< ' <^ cC C CTo c ' KT- ^c ^ ^^.C c <- XK^ <c c <r. 'S c ^^ ccr - c cr." <^^ . / <r^ < <: - CI'V? <^<:: ^-<r^ < «^ ^ c: c <^o ^ ^:C <L< -' ^''C <^ <: < 1 - CO <C > <^< cc ^'^^^ <v c <1< 1/ <rc r <: ^ < <s ■ r- e^c/ <AC ^^ ceo _<-c_ «.< <: cc <3^c<:-" , ^m ^: Cc OCT ^£C^^ re c ^■^^ ^O cc CTCCC C ^ cr<:<r;c c ^^ /ccc:<rc<r' Cc c<r r^- > ■."•'^V'VjS L I E) riA FLY OF THE U N IVERSITY or ILLINOIS 82.3 K562€ Sf.Z LITTLE KATE KIEBY. BY F. W. ROBINSON, AUTHOR OF '' grandmother's MOXEY," " XO CHURCH,' &c. &c. m THREE VOLUMES. VOL. n. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT ]\L^RLBOROUGH STREET. 1873. The right of Translation is reserved. i LONDON: PRINTED by MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE. CONTENTS THE SECOND VOLUME, BOOK 1 1.— Continued. THE SISTERS. IHAPTEE PAGE V. Belgravia 3 VI. Abel Westmair 21 VII. The End of the Old Life .... 41 BOOK III. A FRESH START. I. Broomfield 61 II. Making Friends 80 III. Grandfather Westmair hears the Truth . 98 IV. A Bad Beginning 110 V. Instability 124 VI. Less Light 143 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTEE VII. A Cheque for Eight Hundred VIII. The Test of Confidence. IX. A Humble Apology X. Herbert Westmair speaks out XI. The Next Morning. XII. Abel acts as Guardian e.VGE 155 167 178 191 204 218 BOOK IV. ONE OF THE FAMILY. I. A Year's Probation.. 11. A Little Surprise III. Herbert makes another Promise IV. Lowestoft ..... V. Confidence VI. '' Sharper than a serpent's tooth' VII, Better Friends .... 229 243 255 269 280 296 310 BOOK II (CONTINUED.) THE SISTERS. VOL. II. ^. LITTLE KATE KIRBY. CHAPTER V. BELGRAVIA. rilHE professionals reached London in time for ^ their various appointments, commencing from eight in the evening — the fashionable hour for music-halls — and Katie went direct to the Hall of Harmony. I did not accompany her ; I was glad to get home, and to feel that the day's business was ended. I had kept my word, and fulfilled my unprofitable mission. From the incidents of that day there was left jne much to dwell upon. The horror of Katie's present life seemed to have come closer to me again — to have taken another and a deeper B 2 4 * ^ LITTLE KATE KIRBY. shading — to have filled me with the old intent to save her when the first chance should pre- sent itself. Closer contact with these hybrid singers and actors had not won me to regard them with a greater favour, and any existence seemed preferable to theirs. All this false ex- citement, empty applause, paltry vanity, had been apparent to me from the first, and though Katie's pride might resist the coarse tempta- tions in her path, it seemed impossible to me — even though I was a poor reasoner — that any good feeling or high principle could arise from such a life. There was my own little adventure to con- sider, too. The dark figure of Abel Westmair, and the little girl who had called him " father," and whom I had protected from the more vul- gar portion of our company, became of interest to my meditations. I had not known that Mr. AVestmair was married until then — what was his wife like, I wondered, and was he hard, exacting, unsympathetic to her, too ? He had appeared to love his child ; he had been even excited at the persecution to which she had BELGRAYL\. ||b^ 5 been subjected, and had nearly split the celebrat- ed Mr. Chowl's skull, which had shaved the thick trunk of a chestnut-tree by a hair's breadth, when the comic vocalist had flown as from a catapult across the grass. I related my story upon Katie's return, and she listened apathetically, and said, '' ^Vhat a shame I" but whether it had been a shame to molest little Miss Westmaii-, or to treat Mr, Chowl with rudeness, was not particularly ap- parent. I was inclined to think that her sympathies were with the memb(^r of her own profession. '• How strange that Mr. Westmair should have been in the park this afternoon I"' '*Not at all,'' said Katie; "he lives at Ted- dington ; the manufactory is not far from it." " Ah : I had forgotten that." Katie dozed off in her chair ^vhilst I was ex- pressing my satisfaction at not having been recognised by Mr. Westmair, and I thought how ill with the day's pleasure and the night's sing- ing she looked in her sleep. Was the life wearing her out ? was she tired 6 mM^ little KATE KIRBT. of it? would she really be glad to escape, as she had said once? I asked these questions as I gazed at her, and my heart ached strangely in its vain attempts to answer them. Had the chance come to save her and myself when the Saturday morning arrived, and I was preparing for my appointment at Belgrave Square ? " There, do I look like a respectable young person?" I asked, "worth waiting for till the references arrive from Pietermaritzburg — worth the enormous sum, Katie, of a hundred and twenty pounds per annum ? " " Worth all that, and more," said Katie, warmly ; '' but you are not building upon suc- cess, I hope ?" " No," I replied, with a sigh, " not building upon it, scarcely dreaming that such good for- tune can fall to aur share." I emphasised the pronoun, but she did not affect to notice it. " There are a hundred chances against you ; if the young lady be an overgrown, tyrannical girl of fifteen or sixteen, whose education has BEL6RAVIA. _^ 7 been neglected, and whose tempers are demonia- cal, you must flatter her, Faith — tell her what a beauty she is, and how sure you are of loving her very quickly." " You are jesting." " Only those who lie gracefully get on in this world," she said bitterly. " I have seen it, suffer- ed from it — am sure of it." "• Oh ! you are jesting," I said, endeavouring to smile at her cynicism, but secretly alarmed at her vehemence. " Yes, yes, to be sure I am. Don't turn pea- green at every little pleasantry of mine — when do you meet X. Y. Z. ? I forget." " At eleven o'clock." " Then I have no time to lose." " You— why " " I am going with you. I shall remain for a while until I am sure that this is not a practical joke," said Katie, " to take care of my white- winged sister, who does not know half the villainy there is in the world." " White-winged ! Oh, Katie ! what is the matter with you this morning?" 8 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. "I am excited about X. Y. Z.," she said, laughing; "it's all very mysterious to me; I fancy it's a joke or a snare, and I'm going to see fair play, or to liTake sure that fair play is intended." " I shall be glad of your company, but " " There, never mind the * buts.' X. Y. Z. will not mind me, and if he should make love to you, Faith, see, I am armed." She took a pearl-handled pen-knife from her pocket, opened the blade, and flourished it round her head in a mock-tragic style. " Villain, unhand the maiden or perish, welt- ering in your wretched gore !" she cried ; and at her vigorous burlesque I could not refrain from laughing. So with light spmts, or with some- thing approximate to them, I set off for Bel- grave Square, with Katie at my side as pro- tectress. "You must not appear nervous, or look as though you considered a hundred and twenty pounds per annum too great a sum for your deserts," said Katie, glancing into my face as we BELGRAVL\. . 9 entered the square; "you are worth all the money, you know." "I am not at all sure of that," I said lightly. " And you are nervous." " A little," I confessed. " Courage, child !" she said, half earnestly, half patronizingly ; " what a deal may depend upon this life for you !" " For us both." " For us both, then ; for your fate influences mine, of course." Katie glanced inquisitively and critically at No. 434, as we stood before the house ; she look- ed up at the windows, took a survey of the street-door, peered into the area, went back to the pavement to study the front windows again, until I was afraid that some one would see her from the establishment. " It's all right so far as the house goes," she said, returning ; " the curtains are satin damask, and worth ever so much ; and there's a page in the kitchen, brushing a footman's velvet smalls. 10 m LITTLE KATE KIRBY. That's two male servants, and looks like gor- geonsness." " Pray be silent, Katie ; some one will hear us." *' They are wholesale people here^ — something in the City, see if they're not," she added, and seizing the knocker and bell-handle before I could arrest her hands, Katie announced the presence of the Kirbys in the most emphatic manner. I was still red with consternation when the door was opened. " It's as well to let them know that we con- sider ourselves somebody, too," Katie had said in reply to my remonstrance, and before the page had responded to our summons for admit- tance. " I have called in reply to an advertisement," I began, when Katie spoke for me very rapidly. " Will you tell your mistress that Miss Kirby has called by appointment," she said. " Oh, Miss Kirby. Will you please to step this way." He closed the door, and led the way up-stairs BELGRAYIA. 11 into a spacious drawing-room on the first floor. Here he left ns together, and Katie said — " Didn't I tell you that they were satin damask window curtains ?" " Oh, don't," I said, very nervous still ; " I should not like anyone to hear you. Why did you interrupt me when I was stating the object of my visit, Katie ?" " It sounded very small," Katie replied, " and calling in answer to an advertisement was enough to curl the lip of the pampered young menial who admitted us. I think that I worded it more gracefully." " Perhaps you did," I said in half assent as we sat down. " Why we didn't borrow a directory, and see who lived here for ourselves, I cannot under- stand, unless it was that I was too busy, and you were too forgetful," she said. *' Upon my word, Faith, there is not a great deal of fore- thought in you." *' I am afraid not." " What a time they are ! It always irritates me to be kept waiting," said Katie. " I wonder 12 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. if anyone would hear me if I were to try that piano." Ttiere was a grand piano, all buhl and ebony, at the end of the room, and as my sister rose and went with cat-like steps towards it, I sprang up after her. " You would never be so foolish as that?" I cried. '' No, it's only my fun," she answered ; " but my dear old Faith is the most fidgety young person, and the dullest at taking a joke, that I have had the pleasure of encountering. I am very much disposed to leave you to your own resources — the place is respectable enough, and I am not wanted. Still " " Still " 1 repeated. " Still I doubt if you will not need a prompter — you will be too outspoken to please me ; you will tell all and mar all." "I must tell the truth." " If it's asked for," answered Katie, quickly. We did not go back to our seats, but stood on the hearth-rug, looking round at the grandeur of our advertiser's home, and thinking that BELGRAVIA. 13 X. Y. Z. was a very lucky fellow. There were signs of wealth and taste — if here and there too elaborate a display — at every turn. Money had been creditably as well as lavishly spent ; the marqueterie was not from Wardour Street, the candelabra from South wark, the china ornaments from Whitechapel, the great gilt clock upon the console-table from a Jew's ware- house in Houndsditch. The furniture, the ornaments, the window-hangings, the water- colours on the walls were all in harmony, and the effect was rich, not garish. " Well-to-do people here, Faith," said my ir- repressible sister; "how I admire well-to-do people, and envy them, and wish myself as rich as they are, and wonder always if their money is as honestly come by as my own !" " That's a suspicious thought for your years ; what put it in your head, young lady ?" piped a feeble voice, so close to us that we gave a little jump in our surprise. A tall old man, whose head craned forward strangely, and was awk- wardly carried on one side, stood at a second door, which we had not hitherto observed, with 14 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. one shaking hand upon the handle. He seemed to smile at our surprise, or else he was con- tinually smiling, for the expression did not vary, and it struck me as a second thought that I had never seen a face so full of deep lines, or such a funny little pair of bright grey eyes. *' I beg pardon," said Katie, demurely ; " I thought we were alone." " I thought that I should be alone, too," he said, bowing very politely, and with the same smile upon his countenance. " I was not aware that visitors were expected." " We have called in answer to an adver- tisement," I explained, and Katie said sotto voce — " Ah ! you were determined to get that in if you could." " An advertisement — eh, eh ? There's a good deal done by advertising nowadays. We relied more on the quaUty of our goods when I was a young man in business." He continued to grasp the handle of the door and smile at us. " Indeed," said Katie, in a loud voice ; then BELGRAVIA. 15 she dropped her voice and said, for my sole in- formation, " He's a lunatic." This time Katie had irretrievably committed herself, and the instant afterwards I could have sunk through the floor into the room beneath with much comfort to myself. The old gentle- man had heard every word of her last remark. " No, I'm not a lunatic," he said ; and the smile bri'ghtened still more, as though a compli- ment ot some value had been paid him. "I'm not as strong as I used to be, but I have all my faculties about me, thank God. I have a son who takes care of me, and doesn't consider me a trouble, as some sons might have done. He does not forget how many years I took care of him^ A good son — a very good son." " A good son is one of the greatest blessings upon earth," said Katie, demurely. I had not found courage to reply, my confusion was still great. " Well spoken, young lady," he said, bowing again. " That is a grand sentiment, and I know the truth of it. But let me see now" — and here the trembling hand left the door to tap 16 LITTLE KATE EIRBY. gently at his forehead — " what did I hear you say when I came in f " I really do not remember," said Katie, with alacrity. ** But I shall in a minute. Pray do not dis- turb me. Ah ! I have it now. You wondered if rich people's money were as honestly come by as your own. Had you any motive for saying such a thing in this house f The smile left his face, and was replaced by an eager inquiring look which chilled one's blood to witness. The hands shook more as they hung down at his side, and as he advanced to- wards us slowly, his head bent horribly side- ways, we both shrank away, and went with backward steps to the door by which we had been admitted. " No motive whatever," Katie said. " Pray do not excite yourself, sir." '* I am not excited — I'm never excited," he said, stopping suddenly ; " but it was so extra- ordinary a remark to make in an honest house, in the house of one so universally respected as my son is — and as T have been before him." BELGRAVTA. 17 " It was a foolish and inadvertent remark," said Katie. "Pray, think no more of it." "Oh, I take no offence. I never made an enemy in my life. Let ns shake hands, young lady." He held his trembling hand towards her, and Katie took it. He looked intently at her for an instant, and then broke into his old smile with as much suddenness as though he had been a mechanical figure well wound up, and had come round to smiling-point again. " I don't know you," he said, still retaining her hand. '* May I ask your business here?" " I have simply accompanied my sister, who was invited to attend this morning." He looked at me for an instant, then turned to Katie again. '' I will go and tell them. They must have forgotten you," he said. " What name shall I say?" " Kirby." The smile left his face once more, and there was fear, rather than humour, in the grey eyes glinting beneath the white overhanging brows. VOL. II. C 18 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. He opened his mouth, and glared at Katie as at a phantom which had risen up to scare him. '• Kirby — Kirby of where f* he gasped forth. " Of Dorset Street, Blackfriars," Katie said eagerly. " You're not related to the Kirby I mean, then. I think that poor, unhappy fellow's name was Kirby," he said thoughtfully. " Yes, I'm sure it was. I'll go and tell them that you're come, my dear. They should not have detained you all this time. It's very wrong." He had come round to smiling-point again, and was making for the door by which he had entered, when a little girl, very pale and fair, entered the room. " I am so very sorry to have kept you ;" then * she stopped, and exclaimed, in surprise, " Grandpapa ! — why, how came you here ?" *' I did not know that there was company, my dear," he said. " You must go downstairs and talk to papa. He is quite alone." " Poor fellow, is he ? " said he. " I'll cheer him up a bit, then." BELGRAYIA. 19 He bowed to both of us, like a gentleman of the old school, and went out, smiling to the last. The little girl followed him quickly, and Katie said — "I see it all now. Faith; this is a private mad-house ; and you are to take care of the old man." " Oh ! you will not be silent," I said. "But " Katie was successful this time in checking the volubility of her tongue, as the young lady re- turned to the room as quickly as she had quitted it. There was a great amount of self- possession and lady-like demeanour evident as she advanced towards Katie — not to me. "I have to apologise for detaining you," she said, " but papa wished that I should see you first, and judge for myself whether I thought you were a governess that would suit me. You must not mind if I ask you a great many ques- tions. Miss Kirby." " There is the lady to whom your questions should be addressed. I have only accompanied my sister," explained Katie. c2 20 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. " Oh ! I beg your pardon." The child turned, looked hard at me, and then ran forwards with a little joyful cry and shook both my hands in hers. *' Why, it's the good lady who took my part in Bushey Park last Wednesday!" she cried. " Oh ! I am so glad to see you again. I am sure I shall like yow." *' Are you f I answered. " Papa said he thought it possible that we should meet again. Why," she exclaimed, "he must have known this all along !" " Yes," I replied, " I think that he must have known it, Miss Westmair." 21 CHAPTER VI. ABEL WEST M AIR. TT took time to recover from my sm-prise, to -■■ realise the position in which I was placed, to make up my mind as to the fitting course to adopt. My family wrongs 1 could not dwell upon with this child, or tell her that her father's want of mercy had brought a great deal of misery upon those who had been looking for- ward to a happier life. I could not understand why I bad been sent for. Abel Westmair, of Watling Street, must have guessed at the whole history of his correspondent from the letter that I had sent him, and yet he had ex- pressed a wish to see me. The child's pleasure at recognising me was satisfactory, and I 22 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. thought already that she was one whom I could love ; but the position was bewildering, and the idea of service in this establishment filled my heart with a hot glow. I glanced towards Katie, but she was unmoved by the discovery, or else she had not guessed at the truth, as I had done. Perhaps she had not heard the name which I had mentioned. " Your father will not be long, I suppose ?" " Not very long," was the reply. " Are you in a hurry to see him ?" " No. But it is he to whom I have to give my answer, and who has to decide." "I am not quite sure of that," said Miss Westmair, with a musical little laugh ; " if I were to like you very much — to tell him that I am sure that you would make me a good governess and be a good friend, I know what he would say." "Do you?" " He would say, ' Try her, Ettie ; she will be your companion, not mine.' Why, he has said that twenty times already !" " Have you had twenty governesses, then ?" ABEL WESTMAIR. 23 " Almost," she said. " And, oh ! such dread- ful people I — young women, very snappish ; and old women more snappish still. The most disagreeable people in the whole world have come to me." "Perhaps you are hard to please," I ventured to suggest. " It's not that, so much as that I am hard to teach. I hate lessons !" she added, in a lower voice ; " it's very wrong, but I can't help it. Lessons will never be any good to me." " How is that ?" " I'm not going to live very long, you must know," she said, in a lower tone still. Katie made a grimace at the ceiling, as though to assert silently to me that the young lady was lunatic No. 2 ; but I felt that there might be a sad truth in the statement. " Papa thinks I don't know it, or that I have forgotten what the doctor whispered to him one day ; and he does not believe it himself, I'm quite sure — but that's the truth." " You may be very much mistaken," I said. " You should not brood on this." 24 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. ''I don't brood; but I don't want to learn French, Italian, and German — as if the angels were never going to speak English !" There was a strange cynical humour in the child that bordered almost on irreverence ; and yet it was an innocent face into which I was gazing. " But what does your mamma say ?" I asked. The face changed sadly, and I was sorry that the question had escaped me. The child was not in mourning, ' and that the mother had already gone before her had not suggested itself until that moment. " My mamma died four years ago. Miss Kirby. I was quite a child then," she added, naively ; " but, oh, I remember so well !" She pressed her fingers to her eyes to keep the tears back, and succeeded. She was a child of considerable self-command, and I felt drawn to her still more. If she had not been a Westmair, how I should have loved the task of trying to make her love me ! The children of the English settlers in Pietermaritzburg had not been difficult material to work upon, and I ABEL WEST^^IAIR. 25 had won, in my quiet way, many little hearts. I did not think that Ettie Westmair's would be beyond my power to touch. "It's very strange," the child continued, " that you should be the lady who took my part against those vulgar people in the park last Wednesday! — for, do you know, I liked you then very much indeed." " I am glad to hear that," 1 replied. " And I should like to have you for a gover- ness, too," she added, " because you are kind, and I fancy that you would soon learn to understand me. There are very few who do that, or who try to do that." " I have not made up my mind to accept this situation," I remarked, " even should I please your father, which is very unlikely, Miss West- mair." " Why, what have you come for?" " To see if I could fulfil the duties that may be required of me, if I should care for those duties, the house, or the people in it," I replied. " You are sure to care for me," was the dry assertion, " for I should try very hard to be 26 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. good. Why, yours is the face for which I have been waiting, and you are as a friend already. Do tell papa that you will suit me exactly. Pray do!" " I cannot promise." " You will like papa, too, though you will not see him very often ; for he locks himself up amongst his ugly books for hours and hours every day. He is so good and kind a man to everybody !" '' Indeed," I said. " And you will like grandpapa — we all like grandpapa, though he is a little strange. He—" The confidence of Miss Westmair was inter- rupted by the entrance of her father, who came in with a stiff-backed bow that I recognised ; crossed the room to the centre of the hearth-rug, where he took up his position, with his back to the steel stove ; clasped his hands behind him, and looked from me to Katie and from Katie to me with grave intentness. Yes, it was a hard face, rendered more repellent by a swarthy skin and a thick pair of black eyebrows, whilst ABEL WESTMAIR. 27 the total absence of moustache, whiskers, and beard, in these hairy days, showed plainly the decisive mouth and chin that might have been cast in iron, so inflexible did they appear to me. He looked like a man who would have locked up his own father with as much complacency as he had locked up mine, if he had only found the old gentleman's hand in his till. " Good morning," he said, in that cold tone of voice which I seemed to remember as part of the awful day of my return to London. *' I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Your sister. Miss Kirby f " My sister." " You found her after all, then," he remarked. " Pray be seated." We had both risen upon the great man's entrance ; at his request we subsided into our seats again. " Well, Ettie ?" he said interrogatively to his daughter. " Yes," was the reply ; and I knew that ques- tion and answer referred to my humble self and the daughter's favourable opinion of me. 28 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. *' Will you go and see where your grandpapa is ?" he said "But " " I would prefer your leaving us, Ettie," he said, in the same quiet tones. " But I shall see Miss Kirby again I" "Not to-day, I think." "Good day. Miss Kirby, then," she said advancing. " I hope soon to see you very often." She raised her face to kiss me, but I did not know how the stern man watching us would care for so much friendliness exhibited, so I held both my hands towards her instead. " Good-bye," I said. "No, not good-bye, for that means going away for a long time." "I am afraid that " I began, when Mr. Westmair's deep voice broke in upon us again — "Ettie, will you rejoin your grandpapa, please?" Ettie shook hands, looked wistfully towards me, bowed to Katie, and withdrew. The father waited till the door was closed before he spoke ABEL WESTMAIR. 29 again, looking down meanwhile at his boots, as if their shape had suddenly struck him as peculiar. "This has been a disagreeable surprise for you, Miss Kirby," he said at last. " It has been a surprise certainly." " I said a disagreeable surprise." " Yes, a disagreeable surprise," I answered, thus forced to answer him. " You would have naturally preferred meeting strangers," he said, " and probably I have not acted wisely in asking you to come. Still," he added, after a moment's consideration, as if the confession were extracted reluctantly from him, "I liked your letter. It was frank — and honest." I did not reply, and after waiting for a few moments in anticipation of my answer, he went on — " Had I been a stranger, you would have confessed to the peculiar position in which circumstances had placed you ? I see that, I think." " Yes," I replied. " Not being a stranger — being a Westmair, 30 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. and one who you think has not acted merci- fully in an extreme case — you have already made up your mind to decline any offer that I may feel disposed to make you ? " " Yes," I said again. " Then there is no occasion to discuss the question of your suitability for the post of governess and companion to my daughter ?" " No, sir, I think not." " It would be a painful position at first — I see that ; and there is much to say against it on both sides, but do you think that your father would object for one ?" " I am sure that he would." '' He is not a high-spirited man ; and it is he who has wronged me, pray remember," he said. " When we last met. Miss, Kirby, you were of a different opinion. I hope that your inquiry into the case has weakened the force of your impres- sions." " He wronged you, sir, yes. But you were very hard upon him." " I did not know upon whom I was going to be hard when I first discovered that I was being ABEL WESTMAIR. 31 robbed," said Mr. Westmair. *' The defalcant proved to be your father — an old servant, it is true, but one who was cruelly dishonest. I have nothing to regret ; I should act exactly the same again." He looked harder than ever, after this lengthy explanation which he had condescended to make ; my own view of the case was as dis- tasteful to him as it had been on the day of my visit to Watling Street. He turned to my sister suddenly. " What is your opinion, Miss Kirby ?" he said. " I am curious about this little matter, and your sister is not just to me." " It is not a little matter to us," replied Katie, looking down. "Forgive me; no, it is not," he said very quickly, like a man who was sorry at once for a speech hastily delivered. There was something graceful in his quick apology, and he was hard- ly the ogre of six mouths ago. He was better in his house than in his office. Many people are. "I think with my sister that there is no 32 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. excuse for my poor father's conduct, Mr. West- mair ; but I don't know that you could have act- ed differently towards him. My father was an unfaithful servant." " True," said Mr. Westmair. There was a long silence which it seemed im- possible to break. I was not satisfied with Katie's answer. I was not content with my position. I was anxious to be gone, now I had told him that my pride could not stoop so low as to accept service from his hands. But I could not rise and end the interview ; something seem- ed to restrain me and keep me down. The tall man upon the hearth-rug might have had the serpent's fascination upon me, for all that I knew — I sat there so helpless beneath his gaze. " For your father's position I have no par- ticular regret," he said, addressing Katie now, as the more sensible young woman of the two ; " there is no excuse for his conduct ; but for yourselves I am sorry." He had not shown it on the day I went to Watliug Street ; but I did not say so, ABEL WESTMAIR. 33 " And," he continued, " if I could be of assist- ance I should be glad. Should /hear of any- thing to suit either of you, would you be too proud to consider it ?" " No," said Katie. " Your sister answers for you also, Miss Kirby?" he inquired of me. He was a man who liked everything very clear and definite, and I, after a moment's hesitation, said that I should be glad to hear of any occupation. " You are together ?" he inquired. " Yes," said Katie. " Waiting for a chance in the world where chances come seldom to the unlucky — and yon are unlucky," he added thoughtfully. " Were you together last Wednesday V I answered this time in the affirmative. " I did not see you," he said to Katie^ " when that mountebank crew thought it excellent fun to frighten a delicate child almost to death" — he frowned for an instant very darkly at the re- miniscence— " and I have not thanked you yet," turning to me again, " for your generous defence VOL. II. ' D 34 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. of my daughter. You exposed yourself to con- siderable insult from those drunken and worth- less people in your anxiety to protect Miss West- mair ; and let me assure you, Miss Kirby, that I am deeply grateful." He bowed his head less stiffly in gratitude. " Anyone would have acted the same in my place," I answered. " Any right-minded person of the male sex might have done," he answered thoughtfully, "but not every young woman of your age." " Faith was very brave ; but she is a brave girlj Mr. Westmair," said Katie, with a sudden- ness that took my breath away as she continued. " I was nervous and ran from the wretches." " I heard afterwards that they were singers and dancers at a low music-hall in London," he said. " Very likely," said Katie. " Oh ! they were dreadful people, and they had been drinking a great deal." " Let drink stand their excuse then, such ex- cuse as it is," Mr. Westmair replied. *' I thought of following up the matter ; but I could not drag ABEL WESTMAIR. 35 my child iuto a police court on so miserable a charge." He drew from his pocket a letter as he spoke, opeDcd it and glanced at its contents. I recog- nised my own letter which I had sent in reply to his advertisement. "I think that you wonld have been a good companion and a fair governess for Miss West- mair," he said. " Your education appears to have been well looked after by your father." " By my father and uncle." " She is far better educated than I am," Katie said. "My uncle Jeffrey was the scholar of the family, and devoted much of his time to Faith." " Taking your letter as it is, and believing in it, Miss Kirby," he said, looking hard at me, " it is a pity that false delicacy should prevent your accepting the offer w^hich I now make to you. There are three hundred and twenty-seven ap- plicants, as the salary that I have named is a larger one than is generally paid for the edu- cation of so young a child as mine. She is only eight years of age. But I was anxious that a I) 2 36 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. good class should be represented by the answers. Will you think of it till Monday V " I fear that " " Will you comniunicate with your father in respect to this matter f " I do not think that it is necessary." He frowned again. " I will not take your answer now," he said decisively. " I have come upon you as a sur- prise. Think of this in the right light." " I hope that I am doing so." " No, you are not," he answered in the measured tones which he had adopted throughout the interview. " You will not see how wronged I have been, and how it is possible for you to make amends, by a more faithful service, for the actions of your father." To repay by a more faithful service ! To be able to repay in time something back from the money of which the Westmairs had been robbed ! No ; I had not looked upon it in that light yet ; and it startled me. " Miss Westmair," he continued, " is a girl of strange fancies, and three days ago you won a ABEL WESTMAIR. 37 heart that is, as a rule, very difficult to impress. You understand children?" *' A little, perhaps." "You mention old pupils in this letter," he said, holding it up for a minute in his hands, " and teaching will come naturally to you. Hard teaching is not requisite until Ettie is more of a woman." He drew a deep breath, and looked down at the hearth-rug. Suddenly he touched the bell- handle near him, and said — " Let me know your decision on Monday, Miss Kirby. Write to me at Broomfield, Ted- dington, if you please. This is my father's house, rather than mine, and we are very seldom here." The interview was at an end, and I rose, with Katie, bewildered and overpowered by this man's force of argument. He had been cold, but still he had been kind, and had made an offer of some value to the daughter of a man who had treated him exceedingly ill. It was in that light I saw it at last perhaps ; but still, service in the Westmair family seemed impossible to 38 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. me. As the servant appeared to show us down- stairs and into the street, Abel Westmair came to us as though he were going to shake hands ; but he had only wished to say a few words in a low tone, " Please understand," he said, " that neither my father — who knows nothing of the business of the firm now — nor my daughter is aw^are of what has happened to Mr. Kirby. Mr. West- mair has forgotten the name; Miss Westmair has heard it mentioned this week for the first time." The old man whom I had seen in the draw- ing-room half an hour since appeared to have remembered the name perfectly well, and that was a fact for me to ponder over presently. I could only bow, and say " Thank you," as if I took it as a favour that my father's disgrace had not formed a topic of conversation with the family. Then Abel Westmair went back to his old post, muttered *' Good day," and dis- missed us. In the square I turned to Katie. " Why not have told all the truth V I cried. ABEL WESTMAIR. 39 " Why keep back about your acquaintance with Baxter and the rest ?" '* What has my life to do with his?" she an- swered. " Has he said anything about himself? Am I to fall as a shadow upon this one chance for you r " Not for me," I cried ; " I have already made up my mind." "No, no, not yet," she said hastily; "con- sider what you lose by it. 1 have nothing to do with the Westmairs. I stand apart from them. But you are unhappy, and the artificiality of my life saddens you." " If I could save you from it !" " Well, this may be the first step to eternal salvation." "Hush ! don't talk like that." " There is a clue for you to follow as to the mystery of our father's imprisonment — for a mystery there is," said Katie, with excitement. " I don't trust these Westmairs. They are false and double-faced. There is a motive in offering you this post, and if so, you must discover it ; or else — it is conscience." 40 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. " I do not understand," I said. " Would you have me go as a spy ?" " If you could prove our father's innocence," cried Katie, " or throw some light upon a story which has been kept dark even from us. What did old Westmair mean about money dishonest- ly come by, and in betraying so much confusion at the mention of the name of Kirby ? Depend upon it, father has been the victim of a conspir- acy ; his tongue is sealed in some way, and that madman knows the truth, and will betray it in his dotage. Faith Kirby, you must go to Broomfield for our sakes." 41 CHAPTER YII. THE END OF THE OLD LIFE. T DID not attach any importance to Katie's -■- suspicions after a fair amount of considera- tion Lad been bestowed upon them. They were unlikely; more, they were unreal and dramatic. If there were a mystery in my father's life and about his incarceration in Hol- loway Prison — if there remained something still to explain, in order to render past illusions less conflicting with the sober truth that had con- fronted me in England — there was no reconcil- ing the past or present with his innocence. I had believed in him against all the facts, even against the history of his trial in the news- 42 LITTLE KATE KIRBY. papers which I had procured ; but facing hira behind the wire grating, and listening to his poor excuses, I had lost faith for ever in his honesty. My father had confessed to taking the money ; he had said nothing of a plot against him, and had only deplored that pitiless justice which would not overlook his crime in consideration for long years of service. How was it possible to believe in a plot against my father, after his own confession? or to see treachery or malevolence in the actions of his employers ? Katie had jumped too rapidly to her own conclusions — but she was an impulsive girl, who judged quickly. She had taken her cue from a weak old man's maunderings, and from Abel Westmair's strange selection of me, and her dramatic instincts had sketched out a plot from them. When I could only see a wish of Abel Westmair's to constitute me his child's gover- ness for his child's sake, she was vexed for a while. She shrugged her shoulders, and said, " Have it your own way, Faith ;" she was not fond of argument, especially with so obstinate a THE EXD OF THE OLD LIFE. 43 young woman as she was inclined to consider her sister. 