Kate Coventry: An AutobiographyWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
Kate Coventry: An Autobiography
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
as often as you please; you may prize it and study it and pore over
it, and find a new meaning in every fresh perusal, a hidden
interpretation for every magic word. Nothing can unsay it, nothing can
deprive you of it; only don't forget to lock it up carefully, and mind
you don't go leaving about your keys.
I had hardly read my note over a second time before Cousin Amelia
bounced into the room without knocking. I should have locked the door
had I known she was coming; as it was, I had only time to pop the note
into my dress (the seal made a great scratch just below my neck)
before she was upon me, and throwing herself into my arms with a most
unusual excess of affections exclaimed,--
"Give me joy, Kate--give me joy--he's gone to mamma--he's in the
drawing-room with her now--O Kate, what shall I do?"
"My dear Amelia," I exclaimed, as the delightful thought flashed
across me that, after all, the Squire's visit might have been for my
cousin, though I must say I wondered at his taste, "am I to
congratulate you on being Mrs. Haycock? I do indeed from my heart. I
am sure he is an excellent, amiable man, and will make you a capital
husband."
"That he will!" exclaimed Cousin Amelia; "and such a nice place and
gardens, and a very good fortune too. Upon my word, Kate, I begin to
think I'm a lucky girl, though to be sure with my advantages I might
expect to make a good match. He's not so old, Kate, after all; at
least not so old as he looks; and he's very good-tempered, I know,
because his servants say so. I shall alter that tumble-down house of
his, and new-furnish the drawing-room. Of course he'll take me to
London for two or three months every year in the season. I wonder if
he knows about Mr. Johnson--not that I ever _cared_ for _him_--and, of
course, a poor curate like that one couldn't think of it. Do you know,
Kate, I thought his manner was very _odd_ the other day when he dined
here; though he sat next _you_ he kept looking at _me_, and I remarked
once that he coloured up, oh! so red. Poor fellow, I see it all now.
Kate, you shall be one of my bridesmaids--perhaps it will be _your_
turn to be a bride some of these days; who knows!"
Just then Gertrude tapped at the door.
"Miss Coventry, if you please, her ladyship wishes to see you in the
drawing-room."
My cousin's face fell several inches.
"Some mistake, Gertrude," she exclaimed. "It's me isn't it, that mamma
wants?"
"Her ladyship bid me tell Miss Kate she wished to see her
_immediately_," was my maid's reply; so I tripped downstairs with a
beating heart, and crossed the hall just in time to see Squire Haycock
riding leisurely away from the house (though it was bitter cold and a
hard frost, the first of the season), and looking up at the window,
doubtless in hopes of an encouraging wave from the white handkerchief
of his _fiancee_ presumptive.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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