Part 21 (1/2)
A few days after that Fay met with a slight accident.
The snow had been falling very heavily all night, and when Fay went to the window the next morning, she looked out on a white world, and not a vestige of the blue ice could be seen for the drifts that lay heaped on the little lake.
She called Hugh to look out with her. ”What a pity,” she said, sorrowfully; ”for we had asked the Romney girls and the Spooners to come up and skate this afternoon. Erle is so fond of young ladies, and he admires Dora Spooner immensely, and now I suppose there will be no skating.”
”Of course the men could sweep the snow away fast enough,” returned Hugh, with a hasty glance at the glorious prospect outside; there were tiny bird tracks on the white surface, some brown sparrows and a robin were hopping across the snow. Not a breath stirred the laden branches, though they drooped under their snowy festoons. ”I dare say the ice would be right enough for a little while, but the air feels milder, and there is danger of a thaw.”
”Never mind, we will see how it is to-morrow, and Erle shall take me for a walk instead. I suppose,” a little plaintively, ”you will be too busy to come too?”
”Oh, yes, far too busy,” Hugh a.s.sured her, as he seated himself at the breakfast-table and commenced opening his letters. Fay read hers--a few notes--and then sat silent behind her silver urn until Erle sauntered lazily into the room, and then she brightened up and began to talk.
”I think I will send off a note to the vicarage, and ask Dora and the others to come all the same, and we will have a nice walk this morning--that is, if you do not mind, Hugh,” looking at the handsome abstracted face bent over the paper; but she had to repeat her question before it reached Hugh's ear.
”Oh, no! it does not matter to me,” he answered, indifferently. ”Ask whom you like, Fay. The Spooners and Romneys, did you say? Oh! by all means, if you want them;” but it may be doubted whether he ever heard her thanks as he buried himself in his paper again.
The dogs were delighted at the prospect of a walk, when Fay consulted them; so a merry party started down the avenue--Fay in her furs and little sealskin hat, which made her look more a child than ever, and Erle in that wonderful coat of his, lined with sable, and the two big dogs racing on before them, and plowing with their noses in the deep cold snow.
They had walked about two miles, and were thoroughly enjoying themselves, when all at once Fay slipped.
How it happened neither of them had any idea. Fay was sure-footed, she skimmed over the frozen snow as lightly as a bird. Erle never had to offer her any a.s.sistance--he would as soon have thought of helping a robin. It must have been orange-peel, as Fay suggested--only neither of them saw any--but all the same, just as Erle was walking calmly along, striking carelessly at the branches with his dandy cane, and Fay chattering and laughing in her usual fas.h.i.+on, all at once she slipped, and her foot seemed to double up under her, and she sunk down comfortably on the snow, only with rather a pale face.
It was very awkward and embarra.s.sing, a most unfortunate circ.u.mstance, as they were two miles from Redmond Hall, and there was Fay protesting that she did not think she could stand, much less walk; and when Erle knelt down to examine the dainty little foot, and touched it lightly, Fay turned still paler, and uttered a little cry, but the next moment she laughed.
”I am afraid I have sprained my ankle. It was very silly and awkward of me, and I can not think how it happened. No, it is not so very painful, unless I try to move. What are we to do, Erle?”
”That is just what I don't know,” he returned, disconsolately, looking down the lane, while the two dogs gazed wistfully into his face, as though they were quite aware of the dilemma, and felt very sorry for their little mistress. ”I suppose you could not ride on Pierre's back, you are hardly small enough for that; and with all my good will I am afraid I should not succeed in carrying you two miles--these furs are heavy, Fay--and yet how am I to leave you sitting in the snow while I go in search of help. I suppose,” with another look, that only landed him in plowed fields, ”there is not a house near, and yet this is one of the Sandycliffe lanes.”
”I don't think we are far from the Grange--that curious old red-brick house we pa.s.sed the other day. This lane leads to the Sandycliffe road, and I expect we are not a quarter of a mile from the village.”
”All right,” responded Erie, cheerfully; ”I can carry you as far as that easily.”
”Oh! but we must not go to the Grange,” returned Fay, in rather a regretful voice. She was suffering a good deal of pain with her foot, her boot hurt her so, but she would not make a fuss. ”The Ferrers are the only people who have not called on us, and Hugh would not like me to go there.”
”Nonsense,” replied Erie, impatiently; ”what does that matter in a case like this. I suppose you think that good Samaritan ought to have left his card first before he helped that poor traveler?”
Fay tried to laugh, but it was rather an effort. ”You do not understand,” she said, gently; ”Hugh used to know the Ferrers, and he says they are very nice people; he is the blind vicar of Sandycliffe, and his sister lives with him. I do not know whether they are old or young; but Hugh said that he had had a misunderstanding with them, and that it would be very awkward to renew the acquaintance; he does not wish me to visit them.”
”Perhaps not. I dare say the Samaritan and the unfortunate traveler were not on visiting terms afterward, but under the present agreeable circ.u.mstances we must certainly avail ourselves of the first shelter that offers itself. Hugh would quite approve of my advice, and in his absence must allow me to judge for you;” and there was a slight peremptoriness in Erle's voice, to which Fay yielded, for she offered no resistance when he lifted her from the ground with his old playful smile.
Fay was very small and light, but her furs were heavy; still, Erle was strong and wiry, and he carried her easily enough--he actually had breath to joke too--while the two dogs bounded before him barking joyously, and actually turning in at the Grange gates of their own accord--at least Pierre did, and Nero followed him.
Erle looked up curiously at the old red-brick house, with its picturesque gables and mullioned windows, and then, as he deposited Fay on the stone seat inside the porch, and was just raising his hand to the knocker, the door opened, and a very tall man in clerical dress appeared suddenly on the threshold. Erle's hand fell to his side, and he and Fay exchanged puzzled glances; it must be Mr. Ferrers, they thought, and of course he did not know any one was there. He stood with his face turned to the wintery suns.h.i.+ne, and his grand ma.s.sive-looking head bowed a little. The next moment Pierre jumped up and licked his hands, and tried to put his huge paws on his shoulder, whining with delight. Mr. Ferrers started slightly. ”Why, Pierre, my fine fellow, I ought to know that rough greeting of yours by this time; it is a long time since you have called at the Grange; whom have you brought with you, Pierre?” stroking the dog's n.o.ble head.
Erle came forward at once. ”My cousin, Lady Redmond, has met with rather an awkward accident in one of the lanes--she has sprained her ankle, and is in great pain; may I lift her on that comfortable oak-settle by the hall fire while I go in search of help. I am Sir Hugh's cousin, Erle Huntingdon.”
”Lady Redmond,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Ferrers; and Fay wondered at the sudden shadow that pa.s.sed over her host's fine face. ”Oh, yes, bring her in, Mr. Huntingdon, but we must find a softer couch than the oak-settle.
Margaret--where are you, Margaret?” and the next moment a clear, pleasant voice answered, ”I am here, Raby;” and a tall, graceful-looking woman, with dead-brown hair and calm beautiful face, crossed the long hall. Fay seemed to see her coming through a sort of haze, and she put out her hands involuntarily; Margaret's voice changed as she took them. ”Ah, poor child, she is faint. Will you bring her into my morning-room, Mr. Huntingdon, there is an easy couch there, and a nice fire;” and Margaret led the way to a pleasant room with an old-fas.h.i.+oned bay window overlooking the sunny lawn and yew-tree walk; and then took off the little sealskin hat with hands that trembled slightly, and laid the pretty head with its softly ruffled hair on the cus.h.i.+ons, and then put some wine to Fay's lips.
Fay roused herself and drank some obediently, and a little color came back to her face. ”It is my foot, the boot hurts it so,” she said, faintly.
”Yes, because it is so swelled,” returned Miss Ferrers, in a sympathizing voice. ”Mr. Huntingdon, if you will ring the bell I will ask my maid for some hot water. I think that will relieve Lady Redmond; and if you will kindly join my brother, you will find him outside. Ruth and I will soon make your cousin more comfortable;” and Erle at once took the hint.