Countess Kate

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Yonge Charlotte Mary. Countess Kate

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

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The days passed very slowly with Kate, until the moment when she was to go to London and take her state upon her, as she thought.  Till that should come to pass, she could not feel herself really a countess.  She did not find herself any taller or grander; Charlie teased her rather more instead of less and she did not think either Mr. Wardour or Mary or Armyn thought half enough of her dignity: they did not scruple to set her down when she talked too loud, and looked sad instead of pleased when she chattered about the fine things she should do.  Mr. and Mrs. Brown, to be sure, came to wish her good-bye; but they were so respectful, and took such pains that she should walk first, that she grew shy and sheepish, and did not like it at all.

She thought ease and dignity would come by nature when she was once in London; and she made so certain of soon seeing Sylvia again, that she did not much concern herself about the parting with her; while she was rather displeased with Mary for looking grave, and not making more of her, and trying to tell her that all might not be as delightful as she expected.  She little knew that Mary was grieved at her eagerness to leave her happy home, and never guessed at the kind sister’s fears for her happiness.  She set it all down to what she was wont to call crossness.  If Mary had really been a cross or selfish person, all she would have thought of would have been that now there would not be so many rents to mend after Kate’s cobbling attempts, nor so many shrill shrieking laughs to disturb Papa writing his sermon, nor so much difficulty in keeping any room in the house tidy, nor so much pinching in the housekeeping.  Instead of that, Mary only thought whether Barbara and Lady Jane would make her little Kate happy and good.  She was sure they were proud, hard, cold people; and her father had many talks with her, to try to comfort her about them.

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She did not turn, not remembering that she herself must be meant; and the maid, running after her, caught her rather sharply, and showed her her own hand, all black and grimed.

“How tiresome!” cried she.  “Why, I only just washed it!”

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