Part 20 (2/2)
By this time Carmel, alone among the magic mist and moonlight, had reached a state of fear bordering on panic. She longed for anything human, and would have embraced a cow if she had met one. Through the fog in front of her suddenly loomed something dark, and the sound of horse's hoofs rang on the road. A wild vision of Lenore's spectral bridegroom presented itself to her overwrought imagination, and she shrieked in genuine terror, and shrank trembling against the hedge. The rider of the horse dismounted, and slipping his wrist through the bridle, came towards her.
”What's the matter?” he asked. ”Are you hurt? Why, great Scott! It's never Carmel!”
”Everard! Everard!” gasped Carmel, clinging desperately to his arm. ”Oh!
Thank Heaven it's you! I'm lost!”
Everard comforted her for a while without asking any questions; then, when she had recovered calmness, he naturally wished to know why his pretty cousin was wandering in the country lanes by herself on a winter's evening. Man-like, he blamed the school instead of Carmel.
”They ought to have taken better care of you!” he murmured. ”Why didn't the mistress hold a roll-call, and count you all?”
”It wasn't her fault. It was my own mistake!”
”Well, whoever's fault it was, the fact remains the same. You'd better get on Rajah, and I'll take you back to Chilcombe.”
”Oh! that would be lovely. I'm so tired.”
Perched on Rajah's back, with Everard walking by her side, life seemed a very different affair from what it had been five minutes before. Carmel enjoyed the ride, and was almost sorry when they reached the great iron gates of the Hall.
”Won't you come in and see Lilias and Dulcie?” she asked, as Everard helped her to dismount at the door.
”I haven't time to-night. I must get home in a hurry. I've an appointment with Mr. Bowden, and he'll be waiting for me.”
”And I've kept you from it! Oh, I'm so sorry, Everard!”
”I'm not. Look here, if you're ever in any trouble again anywhere, you come to me, and I'll take care of you. Don't forget that, will you?”
”I'll remember!” said Carmel, waving her hand to him as she watched him ride away down the drive. Then she turned into the house to set at rest the panic of anxiety which had arisen over her non-appearance with the other members of the shopping party.
CHAPTER XV
On the High Seas
There was quite a merry gathering at Cheverley Chase that Christmas. All the Ingleton children were at home, and with Cousin Clare and Mr.
Stacey, they made a jolly party of nine, a satisfactory number, large enough to act charades, play round games, and even to dance in the evenings if they felt inclined. Without exception everybody voted Mr.
Stacey ”an absolute sport.” He seemed to know a little about everything, and could help Bevis to arrange his stamp collection, or Clifford his moths and b.u.t.terflies; he could name Roland's fossils, give Dulcie tips for the development of her photos, and teach Lilias to use the typewriter. He was so cheery and good-tempered over it, too, and so amusing, and full of fun and jokes, that the young Ingletons buzzed round him like flies round a honey-pot. There are some people in the world whose mental atmosphere appears to act like genial suns.h.i.+ne.
Because their uplifting personality demands the best in others' natures, the best is offered to them. Mr. Stacey's lovable, joyous, enthusiastic temperament made a wonderful difference at Cheverley Chase. The constant squabbles and rivalries that had been wont to crop up seemed to melt away in his presence. Never had there been such harmonious holidays, or such pleasant ones. It was his idea to take advantage of a brief frost and flood the lawn, so that the family could enjoy skating there, though the ponds in the neighborhood were still unsafe. It was Carmel's first experience of ice, and she struggled along, held up by her cousins, feeling very helpless at first, but gradually learning to make her strokes, and enjoying herself immensely. Then there was scouting in the woods, and there were various expeditions to hunt for fossils in road heaps and quarries, or to explore hitherto unvisited parts of the district. There was no doubt that Mr. Stacey had a born knack with young folks, and as a leader of Christmas fun he was quite unrivaled.
Among the changes for the better at Cheverley Chase there was perhaps none so great as the marked difference in Everard. n.o.body could fail to notice it. Mr. Bowden considered that the six months spent as a chauffeur had ”knocked the nonsense out of the lad, and done him a world of good.” Cousin Clare said he had grown up, and the younger boys, while not exactly a.n.a.lyzing the altered att.i.tude, admitted that their eldest brother was ”a good sort” these holidays.
”Everard always so loved to be 'top dog' before,” Dulcie confided to Lilias. ”I used to hate the way he bossed us all and arranged everything. He's far nicer now he doesn't pose as 'the young squire.'
Even when he used to tell us what he'd do for us when he owned the estate, it was in such a grand patronizing manner that it made me feel all bristles. I didn't want to be helped like that!”
”He is indeed very different!” agreed Lilias thoughtfully.
The only person who did not notice any change in Everard was Carmel, but she had never known him in the old days, so fixed him at the standard at which she had found him. The two were excellent friends. Under her cousin's teaching, Carmel learnt much of English country life; she had the makings of a plucky little horsewoman, and could soon take a fence and ride to hounds. She was very much interested in the gamekeeper's reports, in various experiments in forestry that were being tried, and in motor plows and other up-to-date agricultural implements that she saw in use on the farms.
”It's all different from Sicily,” she said one day.
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