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
Frank laughed too, and resumed. "I was sadly afraid that your aunt
might have found out you were holding a parley with the enemy outside
the walls. I knew you were to go to London to-day. I thought very
likely you might be annoyed, and put under surveillance on my account,
and I was resolved to see you, if only for one moment; so I borrowed
these ragged garments of a professional beggar, who I believe is a
great deal better off in reality than myself, and I determined to
watch for your carriage and trust to chance for a word, or even a
glance of recognition. She has befriended me more than I could expect.
At first, when I saw 'Aunt Deborah' alone in the chariot, it flashed
across me that perhaps you were to stay _en penitence_ at Dangerfield.
But I knew Lady Horsingham had a pony-carriage. I also knew--or what
would be the use of servants?--that it was ordered this morning; so I
stumped gaily along the road, thinking that at all events I might have
an opportunity of saying three words to you at the station whilst the
servants were putting the luggage on, and the dear aunts, who I
presume cherish a mutual hatred, were wishing each other a tender
farewell. But that such a chance as this runaway should befriend me
was more than I ever dared to hope for, and that I should be sitting
next _you_, Kate (and _so close_, I'm sure he might have added), in
Lady Horsingham's pony-phaeton is a piece of good luck that in my
wildest moments I never so much as dreamt of. We scarcely ever meet
now. There--you needn't drive so fast; the up-train don't go by till
the half-hour, and every minute is precious, at least to _me_. We are
kept sadly apart, Kate. If you can bear it, I can't. I should like to
be near you always--always to watch over you and worship you. Confound
that pony! he's off again."
Sure enough, Tiny was indulging in more vagaries, as if he meditated a
second fit of rebellion; and what with holding him and humouring
Mouse, and keeping my head down so as to hide my face from Frank, for
I didn't want him to see how I was blushing, I am sure I had enough to
do.
"Kate, you must really have pity on me," pursued Frank. "You don't
know how miserable I am sometimes (I wonder what he wanted me to
say?), or how happy you have it in your power to make me. Here we are
at that cursed station, and my dream is over. I must be the cripple
and the beggar once more--a beggar I am indeed, Kate, without your
affection. When shall we meet again, and where?"
"In London," was all I could answer.
"And you won't forget me, Kate?" pleaded poor Frank, looking so
handsome, poor fellow.
"_Never_," I replied, and before I knew how it was, I found myself
standing on the platform with Aunt Deborah and the servants and the
luggage. The great green engine was panting and gasping in front of
me, but ponies and pony-carriage and cripple had all vanished like a
dream.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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