Rutledge Part 18

"What has been done about the riding-skirt?"

"Oh, Miss," exclaimed Kitty, uneasily, "why do you worry about those things now? It will make your head ache to talk; I know master wouldn't like it."

Kitty soon saw the futility of attempting to evade the matter; so she gave me a plain commonsensical statement of affairs, commencing from the moment I dashed down the avenue on Madge Wildfire's back; from which time it appeared, her difficulties began. Mrs. Roberts, after watching us out of the gate, the storm on her brow blackening every instant, turned away with a determined step, and entering the house, called to Kitty, saying she was in a great hurry for the dress she had given her to press off; she had important business at the Parsonage, and there was no time to lose.

"I don't think you'll find Mr. Shenstone home, ma'am," Kitty had volunteered. "I saw him pa.s.sing along the road toward Norbury, when I was down at the lodge half an hour ago."

This information had appeared to give great disquietude to Mrs. Roberts, and in consequence of it, she had given up her plan of going out, and had retired misanthropically to her room, while Kitty had danced down to the kitchen in great glee, to communicate to Sylvie her narrow escape.

But in half an hour, Mrs. Roberts' bell rang hastily, and Kitty apprehensively went up to answer it.

"I have concluded, after all," said that lady, "to go to the Parsonage, and leave a note for Mr. Shenstone if he is not in; so get my dress for me as quickly as you can."

"Yes, ma'am," Kitty had answered; but in pa.s.sing the window, she had cast a look out. "It's most five o'clock now, ma'am, you'll be caught out in the dark; hadn't Thomas better run down with the note for you? Or maybe I could go?"

But Mrs. Roberts was quite firm. "No, she did not care to trust to any one but herself in this case." And again she desired her to get the dress with all haste. Haste she certainly did make, in getting to the kitchen and calling Sylvie into consultation; which measure, however, did not tend to elucidate in any great degree the problem that at present perplexed her brain. Sylvie was one of the "raving distracted"

kind, and invariably lost her wits on occasion of their being particularly required, and the only a.s.sistance she attempted to render, in this trying emergency, was ejaculatory and interjectional condolence on the apparent hopelessness of the case. Kitty, in disgust, slammed the door in her face, put her hands to her head in a wild way for a moment, then bounded upstairs again.

"Oh, dear Mrs. Roberts," she exclaimed, as she entered the room, "it struck me on my way down, that perhaps you'd rather wear your old black silk instead of that nice bombazine, as it is getting so late, and the road is so dusty. We haven't had rain, you know, for an age."

Mrs. Roberts drew herself up. Was she or was she not capable of judging what clothes she was to put on? Would it be necessary for her to go down and get the dress she wanted herself?

"By _no_ means," Kitty said; and starting forth again, sat herself down on the third step of the stairs, in direst perplexity. But time pressed; there was no leisure for deliberation. She flew to a closet where some superannuated garments of the housekeeper's hung, selected the most presentable of the series of black bombazine skirts suspended in funereal rows upon the pegs; darted back, and with great composure, laid it on the sofa, while, with officious zeal, she proceeded to divest Mrs.

Roberts of her house-costume, and invest her with her walking-dress. By skillfully interposing her person between the dress and the strong light, and putting it on and arranging it entirely with her own hands, she escaped detection. And arrayed in this ancient garment, the housekeeper sallied forth on her way to the Parsonage.

Too anxious to be triumphant this time, Kitty stole out after her, to see the effect of the sunlight upon the foxy, faded black; but Mrs.

Roberts was too much engrossed with cankering cares of a sterner kind, to think of her bombazine.

At the gate, however, to her great content, she encountered Mr.

Shenstone on his way from Norbury, and stopping him, held a long and anxious consultation with him (in which, said Kitty, _par parenthese_, "I overheard her say some pretty things about you; but no matter)." She then parted from the clergyman, and returned slowly toward the house, Kitty following anxiously behind the hedge. The setting sun threw the most dazzling beams down the avenue. Kitty's heart beat, as she saw the housekeeper cast her eyes meditatively upon her dress; then, as the sunlight struck full upon it, she stooped a little down, and paused, and looked again, and again adjusted her gla.s.ses. She began, in truth, to "smell a rat," for pa.s.sing her hand rapidly over the front breadth, she shook her head doubtingly, then lifted the suspicious garment to the sunlight, then holding it at arms' length, uttered an exclamation of surprise, turned it up, and examining the hem all around, dropped it; turned the pocket inside out--felt of the band around the waist--recognized its unfamiliarity--and with a low muttering of suppressed wrath, gathered herself up, and hastened toward the house.

"It's all up!" groaned poor Kitty, as, by the back way, she darted into the kitchen, and awaited with trembling the pull of Mrs. Roberts' bell.

"Kitty Carter," said Mrs. Roberts, in an awful voice, as she entered the room, "you have been practising upon me in an abominable manner. I have borne your saucy ways for a long time, but the end has now come. You can't deceive me; I'm too quick for you, and you shall be exposed. It's my intention to make Mr. Rutledge acquainted with your deceitful practices; and that, you are aware, is just the same as giving you warning; for Mr. Rutledge has never been known to endure anything of the kind in his house."

Kitty quailed under this attack; but, rallying in a moment, asked Mrs.

Roberts if she'd please tell her what was the matter? Her answer was a peremptory order to bring up the dress she had given her in the morning.

For once in her life, Kitty had nothing to say; while Mrs. Roberts exclaimed:

"It's my belief, Kitty Carter, that dress is lying where I put it this morning, and that you haven't touched it."

"I wish from my soul I hadn't," thought the unlucky girl.

"Now go down this moment and fetch it to me, finished or unfinished, or you forfeit your place."

The only way that opened for Kitty, was to a.s.sume a position, good or bad, and maintain it through thick and thin. Therefore, with staunch determination, she replied:

"I have not done the dress, ma'am; I didn't think you'd want it so soon; and I had rather not bring it up till it's finished."

"This minute, or you lose your place," said the exasperated housekeeper.

Kitty respectfully resisted the demand; it was contrary to her principles to give up work half finished. If Mrs. Roberts would give her time, she would do it; but before the dress was in order, she must decline bringing it up.

Then the storm burst in all its fury. Sylvie was called up; Mrs. Roberts made a descent in person upon the kitchen, which was placed under martial law, Thomas and two of the stable-boys guarding the different entrances, while Dorothy and one of the farm-hands accompanied Mrs.

Roberts in her inquisitorial progress through the lower departments.

Altogether, such a tragedy had not convulsed the bas.e.m.e.nt of Rutledge for many a long year; not, indeed, since the pranks of Kitty's childhood had been the scandal of the place. Kitty remembered with comfort, that she had weathered more than one storm there; and remembering this, took heart again, though, it must be confessed, things looked black enough.

The dress not being and appearing anywhere, "from garret to bas.e.m.e.nt,"

Kitty Carter was formally p.r.o.nounced suspended from her duties, until such time as Mr. Rutledge, being informed of her offences, should himself dismiss her from the house.

To that dark crisis had succeeded the alarm produced by the non-appearance of the equestrian party; then the consternation consequent upon the arrival of Michael, several hours later, announcing that the young lady had been lost, hunted for, and found, by all the men in the village, and was now lying, half dead, at the Parsonage; and, finally, that by order of Mr. Rutledge, Kitty, her maid, was to repair thither immediately to attend upon her. This materially changed the look of affairs; and it was hoped, by the anti-administration party, that the storm had blown over, and, in the new excitement, would be forgotten.

But such hopes were futile indeed, and entertained by weak minds, not capable of sounding the depths of a resentment such as rankled in Mrs.

Roberts' recollection. The very next day, in a solemn interview in the library, Mr. Rutledge was informed of the nature of the complaint against Kitty, and distinctly declared, that unless the matter was very shortly cleared up, he should be under the necessity of dismissing her from his service. And this sword was now hanging over poor Kitty's head; and Kitty's stout heart was sinking at the prospect of the only punishment that could have had much terror for her; for Rutledge was the only home she had ever known, and the only place she loved.

"But it doesn't signify," she said bravely, dashing away a furtive tear; "I can get another place, and I'll look out that there's no Mrs. Roberts in the family."

"But, Kitty," I exclaimed, "why didn't you tell? Mr. Rutledge would have overlooked it, I know."

"What, _tell!_" cried Kitty, scornfully, "and get you into trouble, too?

No, indeed, I know Mr. Rutledge well enough to know he'd have been angry with you as well as with me; and if you take my advice, Miss, you won't say a word about it. One's enough to take the blow; it won't make it any easier to have another getting it too. Just let the matter stand as it is; it will be all right. There, don't fret!" she exclaimed, cheerfully; "it worries me to death to see you mind it so! Why, Miss, it's nothing; how need you care?"

"But, Kitty," I exclaimed, clinging to a last hope, "was the dress much spoiled?"

"Oh dear, yes! muddied, torn, stained, as if you'd been dragged through the streets in it." Our conversation was again abruptly brought to a close by the advent of Mary, this time with a message to Kitty from Mrs.

Arnold, desiring her help downstairs.

And again, turning my face to the pillow, with a miserable sigh, I was left alone.

CHAPTER XII.

"The very gentlest of all human natures He joined to courage strong, And love outreaching unto all G.o.d's creatures, With st.u.r.dy hate of wrong."

WHITTIER.

Evening was closing in, and filling the little room where I lay with fitful shadows, which the tiny blaze of fire in the grate was incompetent to dispel. If it had been possible for me to be more miserable than I had been all day, I should indeed have "loathed the hour" when gloom and darkness so palpably and hopelessly descend, but the climax of misery and self-reproach had been reached by daylight, and outward dreariness could only increase, in a very slight degree, the inward gloom. The faults I had been guilty of, and the errors into which I had led, or allowed Kitty to go, seemed to me, and justly, the first steps in a most dangerous path. I fully realized the sins, and their effect upon my conscience, apart from their consequences and punishment.

These last, I was aware, were hard enough. I knew I had done what must lower me in Mr. Rutledge's esteem; to be the accomplice in a deception, however slight, was to sink just that much in his regard, whose rigid truthfulness and honor were offended by the least prevarication. I knew I had given Mrs. Roberts grounds for all her former distrust and aversion, and placed myself lower than she could have estimated me.

Above all, poor Kitty was the victim on whom it fell hardest, and how much of the blame of not checking her or guiding her right lay on my shoulders, I dared not think. I was really attached to the brave, quick-witted girl, and remembered, with humiliation, how ignorant and untaught she was, and how naturally and unavoidably her faults were the results of her unguided impetuosity, while mine were committed in the light of an instructed conscience and educated intellect.

But with me to suffer pain, was to seek some cure for it. My repentances were not often fruitless; I could no more have lain there, and endured that self-reproach, without resolving on some way to allay it, than I could have submitted to a dagger in my breast without attempting to draw it out. The only remedy I could see, was painful enough, but there was no help for it.

"Mrs. Arnold," I implored, "do put down your work, and come and sit by me; I want to ask you something."

Mrs. Arnold left her seat by the window, and laying down the knitting that her rapid fingers plied alike through daylight and darkness, came to my bedside and sat down. She saw I was excited and feverish, and in her gentle way strove to soothe and amuse me. She talked of a great many things about the parish that she thought might interest me--of the school children, and the Christmas festivities that were preparing, and in some way Rutledge was spoken of, and its dullness and gloominess.

"But I don't think it's gloomy in the least," I said; "I think it's the most beautiful place I ever was in in my life. Don't you think it's delightful?"