Part 14 (1/2)
”Hush, dear, we can not talk any more now; we have pa.s.sed the church and the vicarage already--we are nearly home;” and as he spoke they came in sight of the lodge, where Catharine was waiting with her baby in her arms.
Fay smiled and nodded, and then they turned in at the gate, and the darkness seemed to swallow them up.
The avenue leading to Redmond Hall was the glory of the whole neighborhood.
Wayfarers, toiling along the hot and dusty road that leads from Singleton to Sandycliffe, always paused to look through the great gate at the green paradise beyond.
It was like a glade in some forest, so deep was its shadowy gloom, so unbroken its repose; while the arrowy sun-shafts flickered patterns on the mossy footpaths, or drew a golden girdle round some time-worn trunk.
Here stood the grand old oaks, under whose branches many a Redmond played as a child in the days before the Restoration--long before the time when Marmaduke, fifth baronet of that name, joined the forces of Rupert, and fell fighting by the side of his dead sons.
Here too were the aged beeches; some with contorted boles, and marvelously twisted limbs, like t.i.tans struggling in their death-throes, and others with the sap of youth still flowing through their woody veins, as they stood clothed in the beauty of their prime.
Fay had often played in this wonderful avenue. She remembered, when she was a child, rambling with her nurse in the Redmond woods, with their copses of nut-trees and wild-rose thickets; and their tiny sylvan lawns, starred over with woodland flowers, such as Spenser would have peopled ”with bearded Fauns and Satyrs, who with their horned feet do wear the ground, and all the woody nymphs--the fair Hamadryades;” but though she peered eagerly out in the darkness, she could see nothing but the carriage lamps flas.h.i.+ng on some bare trunk or gaunt skeleton branches.
”Dear Hugh,” she whispered, timidly, ”how gloomy and strange it looks--just like an enchanted forest.”
”They have not thought fit to cut down the trees to give light to your ladys.h.i.+p,” observed her husband, laughing at her awe-struck tone.
”Give me your hand, you foolish child; when we have pa.s.sed the next turning you will see the old Hall. There will be light enough there;”
and scarcely had the words pa.s.sed his lips before the Hall burst upon them--a long low range of building, with its many windows brilliantly illuminated and ruddy with firelight, while through the open door the forms of the a.s.sembled servants moved hither and thither in a warm background of light.
”What a lovely old place,” cried Fay, breathless with excitement. ”I had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, but I shall see it better by daylight to-morrow.”
”Yes,” he returned, with a sigh, ”I shall have plenty to show you, Fay, but now let me help you off with those furs, and lift you out.”
Fay shook herself free of the heavy wraps, and then sprung lightly to the ground; and with her head erect like a little queen, stepped over the threshold of her new home with her hand still in her husband's.
The circle of men and women gathered in the great hall, with the housekeeper and gray-haired butler at their head, thrilled with a vague surprise and wonder at the sight of the childish figure beside their master.
”Good evening to you all,” said Hugh, trying to speak cheerfully, though there was a huskiness in his pleasant voice that was foreign to it. ”You see I have brought home your new mistress at last, Ellerton.
Mrs. Heron,” shaking hands with her, ”you must give Lady Redmond a hearty welcome.”
”Yes, indeed, Sir Hugh,” and the stately housekeeper folded her plump hands and looked complacently at the pretty face before her. ”A thousand welcomes both to you and her ladys.h.i.+p, Sir Hugh, and a long life and a happy one to you both.”
But the housekeeper, as she ended her little speech with an elaborate courtesy, was marveling in her kindly heart what on earth had possessed her master to bring this lovely child to be the mistress of Redmond Hall.
”Thank you, very much,” returned Fay, timidly, and her sweet face flushed as she spoke. ”I trust we shall soon become good friends. I know how you all love my dear husband, and I hope in time that you will be able to love me too for his sake.”
”There can be no doubt of that, I should think, Mrs. Heron,” returned Sir Hugh, moved in spite of himself; and at his tone the shy fingers closed more tightly round his. Those who were standing by never forgot Fay's look, when the girl-wife raised her beautiful eyes to her husband's face.
”And now,” continued Sir Hugh, ”you are very tired, Fay, but our good Mrs. Heron will show you your rooms, that you may rest and refresh yourself after your long journey. This is your maid, I believe,”
turning to a fresh, bright-looking girl behind him; then, as Fay obediently left him, ”What time will dinner be served, Ellerton?”
”At a quarter to eight, Sir Hugh.”
”Very well; I hope there are lights and a fire in the study.”
”Yes, Sir Hugh, and in the damask drawing-room as well.” But his master did not seem to hear him, as he walked slowly across the hall on his way to his dressing-room.