Rutledge Part 13

"We will consider it amicably adjusted, then," he said, "and direct our attention to something else. What, for instance, do you propose doing with yourself this afternoon?"

"I haven't thought anything about it. Take a walk, perhaps."

"You are so fond of being useful," he said, rather wickedly, "would you like to go down to the village for the letters?"

"Yes, I should like it very well, only I don't know the way exactly; but I suppose I can inquire."

"Will you ride or walk? Michael can drive you down, or Kitty can walk with you."

"I think I'll walk, if it makes no difference," I said, indifferently.

"I suppose," said Mr. Rutledge, "you don't like riding on horseback?"

Like it! There was no need to answer; my face told fully my enthusiastic preference for that mode of travel.

"I do not know if there is any horse in the stable that I would venture to let you ride. Madge I am afraid of. How long since you've ridden?"

"Not since I've been away at school; but I'm not a bit afraid. I used to ride constantly at home. I had the dearest little pony; but he was spirited enough, and I always managed him. I don't really think you need be afraid to trust me," I went on, pleadingly.

Mr. Rutledge shook his head; Madge was only fit for an experienced rider; she was too full of spirit for such a child to manage. Now, Madge had been my secret admiration ever since I had had the entree of the stables, and I felt that life offered, at that moment, no more tempting honor than a seat on her back; and it may be supposed I was not lukewarm in my pleading. I urged, coaxed, entreated; I appealed to his generosity, I promised everlasting grat.i.tude.

"Dear Mr. Rutledge," I cried, "you know I go at my own risk; it will be my own fault if anything happens to me. And oh! it will be _so_ unkind if you refuse me the very first favor I ever asked of you!"

I am not sure about the tears at this point of the pet.i.tion, though I was quite in earnest enough to have cried, and I had begun to appreciate the availability of tears as a weapon sufficiently to have used them if they had occurred. Certain it is, however, that Mr. Rutledge began to relent, and at last, though evidently much against his better judgment, gave the desired permission.

"But remember, I don't approve it."

"Oh! but you will," I exclaimed, "when you see how quiet she'll be with me!"

"And you have no habit," he continued.

"I'll manage that. Kitty's a host in herself; I'll press her into the service."

My companion half sighed as I flew out of the room and upstairs, where, in two minutes' time, I was deep in consultation with Kitty on the subject of the habit. She entered into the plan with great ardor, and racked her brains to devise something feasible. I sat on the bed and waited breathlessly for the bright thought that I was sure would come, sooner or later, to Kitty's clever brain.

"You say you have a jacket that will do," she said, meditatively.

"Yes, the very thing--black cloth, trimmed with b.u.t.tons and all that; and now, if I only had a long enough skirt. Oh, Kitty! can't you think of something?"

Kitty knit her brows, and, after a moment, said, thoughtfully:

"There's a whole piece of black bombazine, that was left over from the last funeral, upstairs in a trunk I know of. Sylvie and I could run up the breadths in no time. Would you mind?"

"Oh, Kitty! I couldn't quite stand that!" I exclaimed, between a shudder and a laugh. "Can't you think of anything else?"

"I have it!" cried she, with a sudden illumination of countenance. "I have it!"

"What!--how? Oh, do tell me!"

"Why," said my artful maid, with mischief in every line of her bright face, "why, Mrs. Roberts, by way of keeping me busy this morning, gave me her best bombazine dress to rub off and press out, and it's downstairs this minute; and you see, she always has a wide hem to her dresses, and a great piece turned in at the top; so by letting out all this, and putting on a piece around the waist, where it'll come under the basque, it will make you the very nicest riding-skirt in the world."

And Kitty's eyes danced.

"Capital!" I cried. "But then, Kitty, I'm afraid it wouldn't be right; I'm afraid"----

"Don't disturb yourself, Miss; it'll be ready before you want it," and my conscientious scruples were cut short by the abrupt exit of my maid, who was out of hearing before I could remonstrate.

The dinner-bell rang at the same moment, and I ran down at the summons, too much excited, and too nervous, however, to do more than go through the ceremony of a meal. Mr. Rutledge was rather thoughtful; he called me a foolish child for being so much excited about such a trifling affair.

As I rose to leave the table, he asked me if I had succeeded in improvising a habit. I said yes, and that my present perplexity lay only in the matter of a hat. He proposed to see if he could help me, by a review of his chapeaux, past and present; and after trying on at least a dozen caps and hats, beaver, straw, cloth, and velvet, I decided upon a little black jockey cap, that was the trimmest, nattiest thing imaginable, and I knew, from Mr. Rutledge's approving glance, vastly becoming. So I bounded off to my room, to submit myself to Kitty's hands for the next twenty minutes.

Very pretty, she a.s.sured me, I looked, as, the last touch bestowed, she stepped back to take a survey of me.

"So slim and elegant, Miss, in your black clothes, and that jaunty little cap, and your hair so smooth and tight to your head; nothing in the way, nothing flying," said Kitty, with a gesture signifying her aversion to the decorated style of equestrian costume, so popular with our contemporaries. "And that skirt!" she exclaimed, smothering her laughter, "who would think it was the very one Mrs. Roberts had on, day before yesterday, when she was all dressed to go to the Parsonage!

Wouldn't her hair stand on end, Miss, if she could see it trailing along the floor! The precious dress she always takes off before she'll go down to the kitchen, even to give an order!"

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Kitty! Indeed, I've a great mind not to wear it."

"Why, Miss," she said, in alarm, "don't think anything about it. It won't hurt it a bit; I'll have it just as good as when she gave it to me, if I sit up half the night to fix it!"

And Kitty b.u.t.toned my boots with great _empress.e.m.e.nt_, and as Madge's hoofs struck on the stone walk below, she hurried me off, thrusting my gloves and handkerchief into my hand, and wis.h.i.+ng me a very nice time.

CHAPTER IX.

"Thy steps are dancing toward the bound Between the child and woman, And thoughts and feelings more profound, And other years are coming."

SIDNEY WALKER.

If I say that my heart beat a little quicker, as I came in sight of the group before the steps, I shall acknowledge to no inexcusable weakness.

Mrs. Roberts stood a little at one side, with a darker, more gloomily prophetical cast of countenance than ever, and seemed to be giving some unwelcome advice to Mr. Rutledge, who, saying briefly, "I cannot disappoint her now," turned uneasily to Michael, who held the horses, and who was to accompany me, and appeared to give him some emphatic directions, to which the man, from time to time, nodded a.s.sent.

And the mare herself! Michael's whole strength was but sufficient to control her under the unaccustomed restraint. She was a beautiful animal, glossy black, clean-limbed, and delicately made, with a head and neck that told "she came of gentle blood," as plainly as aristocratic lineaments ever spoke. The insane absurdity of my controlling such a fiery, powerful thing as she, rushed sickeningly over me, but I never for a moment entertained the idea of giving up. If I had been ten times surer than I was, that I should be thrown within the first half mile, I should have rejected with scorn the advice of Mrs. Roberts, who now came forward and favored me with her views on the subject of the proposed expedition. I had more than one reason for desiring to keep her at a distance; so raising my skirt as carefully as I could, I ran down the steps to where Mr. Rutledge stood. When he saw me, he immediately cleared his brow of the shade of anxiety that had been contracting it during his conversation with Michael, and said, smilingly:

"Madge Wildfire is as impatient to be off as her mistress."

"Pretty creature!" I said, patting her neck with a hand that trembled visibly; then, with a voice that was meant to be very cheerful and unconcerned, I added:

"What a perfect afternoon it is! I wish you were going."

"I wish I were," he said, taking in at a glance the unsteadiness of the hand that patted Madge's neck, and the direful whiteness of the lips that spoke. After a moment of reflection he turned to Michael and gave him some order that sent him rapidly toward the stable, while Thomas was summoned to hold the horses, and telling me to wait a moment, Mr.

Rutledge hurried into the house. I did not rightly comprehend the reason of this delay, till I saw him reappear, with riding gloves on and a whip in his hand followed by Mrs. Roberts, whose astonishment and anxiety were undisguised.

"It's madness sir! With one hand you can hardly guide your own horse, let alone that creature she's to ride; and if you'll forgive me for being so plain, you may have to pay dearly for it! You are humoring a foolish girl at the risk of your life!"

Mr. Rutledge stopped short. "My old friend," he said in a tone of decision, "you know I will always bear with more from you, than from almost any one else; but you must remember, there is such a thing as going too far. I cannot be interfered with in this way, even by you,"