Richard Blackmore - Kit and Kitty - A Story of West Middlesex

“He will not be vexed on his own account, nor yet on mine,” she answered very quietly; “but nobody knows what he has to bear. Let us go to him, while he is by himself. There is some one coming; we must be quick.”

We hastened down the long stone passage, just in time to escape the servant, who at last had found her mistress; and after passing several doors, we came to one with an iron bar, and iron rails, in front of it.

“See how he has to protect himself! If somebody knew that I have this key, it would very soon be torn from me. I dare say you are surprised; such things are not done down at Sunbury. How I love that quiet place!”

“And you shall live there all your life,” I answered, as we passed the barrier; “no one shall dare to insult you there; you shall be the Queen, the Queen of all; and you know who will be your slave of slaves.”

“That is all very fine talk,” she said; “I believe it is the usual style at first; and then we come to Bramah locks, and cold iron.”

But her smile, as she put her hand on my shoulder, proved that her own heart taught her better.

“Let me go in first, and see what he is doing. Oh, Kit, you have taken advantage enough. What right have you to say that it is your last chance? I am sure I hope not. Oh, how mean of you to turn my own words against me! Now have a little reason. Yes, yes, yes. For the fiftieth time at least, in five minutes – I love you, and never will have anybody else. Now let me go in first; sometimes he is too busy for even me to interrupt him.”

Much against my will, I let her go, for half an hour later would have done as well according to my judgment; and after securing the fence behind us, which had wholly escaped my attention, she knocked at the door of the inner room, and without being answered opened it.

Her father was sitting with his back to us, so intent upon some small object that he did not hear our footsteps. Some instrument made of brass and glass, but quite unlike a microscope, was in his left hand, and with the other he was slowly revolving something. The appearance of the room amazed me, with its vast multitude of things unknown to me even by name or shape, but all looking full of polished mischief and poisonous intelligence.

“This is why my Kitty weeps, and is starved and crushed by female dragons,” I said to myself in bitter mood; and even the Professor’s grand calm head, and sweet scientific attitude, did not arouse the reverence which a stranger would have felt for him.

His daughter touched, as lightly as a frond of fern might touch it, one of his wavering silver locks, and waited with a smile for him to turn. But I saw that her bosom trembled, with a sigh of deeper birth than smiles. Then he turned and looked at her, and knew from the eyes, that were so like his own, and yet so deeply different, that she had something he must hear.

“You have been crying again, my child,” he said as he kissed her forehead; “they promised me you should be happy now.”

“Yes, if I let them do what they like. Father, you have no idea what it is. I am never allowed to see you alone, except by stealth, and at fearful risk. Father, come out of philosophy and science, and attend to your own child.”

“But my dear, I do. It is the very thing that is in my mind continually. I spoke very strongly not a week ago, and received a solemn promise that you should have new clothes, and diet the same as the rest, and everything I could think of for your good.”

“How many times have they promised it, father? And then I am beaten and put on bread and water, for having dared to complain to you. But all that is a trifle, a thing soon over. I must expect that sort of thing, because I have no mother. But, father, what they are trying to do to me is ten times worse than ragged clothes, or starvation, or bodily punishment. They want me to marry a man I detest – an old man, and a bad one!”

“My dear, I have promised you, and you know that you can rely on my promises, that you shall not even be allowed to marry a man of doubtful character. I have not been able, my darling Kitty, to do everything I should have liked for you; but one thing is certain – if inquiries prove that this gentleman – I forget his name – is a man of bad life and unkind nature, you shall have nothing to do with him. You know how little I am able now to go into what is called ‘Society,’ and most of my friends are men of my own tastes. But I have taken particular trouble, at the loss of much important time, to ascertain whether your opinion of this person is correct. He is wealthy and of good family, I am told, though that is merely a secondary point. He is likely to have outlived youthful follies; and the difference of age is in your favour.”

“But not in his” – interrupted Kitty, with a smile, for which I could have kissed her fifty times, it was so natural, and simple, yet sagacious.

“You are flippant, my dear, in spite of all your troubles,” continued her father, smiling also. “No length of discipline has entirely tamed you. And now I will tell you why I am so anxious that you should have a settled home, and some one to take care of you, as soon as can suitably be arranged. I am likely to leave England, on a roving expedition, for how long a time is as yet uncertain. It may be for a twelvemonth, or even more, possibly for two years; and all that time, where will you be, my darling child? I know that you are not happy now; though my object in making this second arrangement was mainly to have you protected and cared for. But things have not turned out exactly as I hoped; and I fear that in my absence they may grow still worse. When I heard that this gentleman was strongly attached to you, and wished you to become his wife this winter, I hoped that I might be of some little service to the cause of knowledge, without any neglect of my duty to you. And I may tell you, my child, that through a long course of rather extravagant habits, which I have failed to check, it is become of great importance to me, so far as mere money goes – which is not much – to accept the appointment which is offered me. I am often deeply grieved at your condition, and do my very utmost to improve it; but am not always allowed; as you know, my dear, and are very sweet and patient with me – I am not always allowed to have my own way.”

“Don’t put it so, papa. That is not half the truth. Say that you never have been allowed, never are, and never will be, to have so much as a barleycorn of your own way.”

“Young people put things in too strong a light,” the man of science answered gently. “But we will not go into that question now. Only you will see, my dear, from what I have said, why I am so anxious that you should be settled in a happy and peaceful home of your own, far away from all those who worry you. This gentleman offers you a wealthy home; but knowing your nature, I do not insist on that. Indeed I should be quite satisfied with a very humble home for my darling, if it were a happy one.”

“Very well, papa, nothing could be nicer. I can please you now exactly, and meet all your wishes, though I cannot bear to hear of your leaving me so long. But you will not leave me to the tender mercies” – here my Kitty beckoned to me to come forward, which I had long been most eager to do, but in obedience to her signals, had remained by the door and behind a tall case of some wheel within wheel-work, almost as complex as human motives – “father, you see that you need not leave me to the tender mercies of anybody, except this gentleman, who saved my life at Sunbury, as you know, and wishes to make it a part of his own, for the rest of it.”

Captain Fairthorn looked at me with extreme surprise; my idea of his character was that nothing upon or below the earth could surprise him. But he had his glasses on; and these always seem to me to treble the marks of astonishment in the eyes that stand behind them. In deference to his large intellect, and fame, and great (though inactive) nobility of nature, I waited for him to begin, though I am sure – now I come to think of it – that he would have been glad for me to take the move.