Part 61 (1/2)
”For which I owe him all my grat.i.tude.”
”I take it, Mr. Grenfell invites him to please himself. He is very lonely yonder at the Cottage. He says he has made no acquaintances, and I suppose that even Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle is better than solitude--not that I should think so myself.”
”But you show that too plainly, Ma Mie. There are no feelings we ought so strictly to control, so far as the manifestations go, as our distastes to people in society.”
”I think he hates _me_.”
”That would be impossible, child. He may be afraid of your wit; he may not like to encounter your repartee; he may feel, and not unreasonably, that he does not stand high in your favour, and this may impart a degree of constraint to his manner.”
”I have not seen the constraint, Sir, but I have the dislike, and it was so perfectly mutual, I was glad of it.”
”Another mistake, Ma Chere, and a great mistake. The people who really like us need no caressing. The blandishments should be all reserved for the doubtful--just as we administer cordials to the weak.”
”I do my best, Sir, but I own I do not approach it with a good grace. Do you really wish me to become a favourite with this young gentleman?”
”Nay, Ma Mie, you go too far. Your nature is like a pendulum, that swings if it be but breathed on. I did not say so much as that. I simply meant, that I should prefer if he were to carry away from us a pleasant impression of his visit. His father and I have had some discussions of a kind I cannot easily forget. In a long life of affairs, I have not met one, no, not one, who carries the virtue of candour to the pitch of my respected relative, or who imparts home truths with a more telling sincerity.”
”Well, Sir, if I understand you aright, I am to captivate Mr. Ladarelle, but not to fall in love with him.”
”Mademoiselle,” said he, gravely, ”there was not such a word as love dropped in the entire discussion. I have told you that with the relations which subsist between the elder Mr. Ladarelle and myself it would be as well if a kindlier sentiment connected me with the young man. We shall probably have matters to discuss to which each of us ought to bring all the courtesy in his power.”
”Who cut down the large elm, Gardy?” cried she, suddenly pointing to a clearing in the wood, where a gigantic trunk had just been felled.
”It was I, Ma Chere. I ordered it; intending to make a vista yonder, so that we should see the great tower; but Mr. Ladarelle has stopped me with a protest, and as I abhor a lawsuit, I think I shall submit.”
”Just watch how the Cid will take the timber; he's glorious oyer a stump!”
”Kate--my dear Kate--it's too high; don't do it. Come back, I entreat; I order you to come back!” cried he, as she dashed into the open, and with her horse beautifully in hand, cantered him at the tree. Perhaps it was in the seeming carelessness of her hand--for horses have an instinct rarely deceptive as to the intention of the rider--perhaps a mere caprice, but the Cid swerved as he came up and refused the leap.
The bare thought of such rebellion raised the girl's temper at once. She wheeled him suddenly round, and rode back about fifty yards, and then facing him once more in the direction of the tree, she dashed towards it in speed.
”I command you--I order you to come back!” screamed Sir Within; but she heeded nothing, heard nothing. The horse, now irritated and snorting with pa.s.sion, came too close before he rose to the leap, and though he sprung madly into the air, he touched--a mere touch with his fore-leg--and came tumbling over, headforemost, to the opposite side, with his rider beneath him.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 322]
Sir Within had covered his eyes with one hand, not to see her take the leap, and he remained thus for a few seconds, waiting to hear her voice and the tramp of her horse as she joined him. At last he removed his hand and looked around. She was not to be seen. He cried her name--he screamed it in his agony.
”This way!” cried she; ”I'm not hurt--don't be frightened--come and help me!”
Dismounting, he made through the tall ferns and the felled branches and soon gained the spot, from which the horse had only now arisen, and stood trembling over the fallen figure of the girl. ”Oh, my life--my darling--my heart's dearest,” cried he, kneeling down beside her; ”tell me you are not crushed--not injured!”
”Only stunned, Gardy, nothing more. It was all my own fault. I rode him at speed; he had no time to gather himself, and the martingale----” As she spoke, her voice grew weak, she leaned her head on his shoulder and fainted.
How did the deep woods resound to that poor old man's prayers and cries for help! He shouted--he screamed--he implored; he offered untold gold to him who should come to his aid. He pledged to give half of all he had in the world to any who should succour her. It was by a caprice of Kate's that they rode without a groom, and he inveighed against his own folly now for the compliance. Madly mingling self-reproaches with his cries for a.s.sistance, he grew at length hoa.r.s.e and so faint with his efforts, that he could with difficulty sustain her weight. Just then was it that she rallied, and with a playful smile said, ”Dear Gardy, just pa.s.s your hand over Cid's knee. I hope it is not touched!”
”What do I care for the horse; are you safe, my own darling--are you not hurt?”
”Not in the least--I think not; my ankle is a little stiff--a mere sprain--no more. This shoulder too---- There, don't touch it, only help me up. Yes, of course, I mean to mount again--do tell me if his knee is all right?”
”Only think--without help--without a servant--not a creature near us,”