Wych Hazel Part 15

Falkirk, and brought the grey cob's ideas to a head by stepping him off at a good pace.

The room was large, opening by gla.s.s doors upon a wilderness of gra.s.s, trees and flowers. At every corner gla.s.s cupboards showed a stock of rare old china; a long sideboard was brilliant and splendid with old silver. Dark cabinet ware furnished but not enc.u.mbered the room; in the centre a table looked all of hospitality and welcome that a table can. There was a great store of old fas.h.i.+oned elegance and comfort in Wych Hazel's home; no doubt of it; of old-fas.h.i.+oned state too, and old-time respectability; to which numberless old-time witnesses stood testifying on every hand, from the teapot, the fas.h.i.+on of which was a hundred years ancient, to the uncouth bra.s.s andirons in the fireplace. Mr. Falkirk came in as one to whom it was all very wonted and well known. The candles were not lit; a soft, ruddy light from the west reddened the great mirror over the fireplace and gave back the silver sideboard in it. Not till the clear notes of a bugle, the Chickaree tea- bell, had wound about the old house awakening sweet echoes, did Wych Hazel make her appearance.

'Supper mos' as good hot as de weather,' remarked Dingee. 'Mas Rollo, he say he break his heart dat his profess'nal duties tears him 'way.'

'Dingee, go down stairs,' said Miss Hazel turning upon him,-- 'and when you tell stories about Mr. Rollo tell them to himself, and not to me. Will you come to tea, sir?'

CHAPTER XI.

VIXEN.

The birds were taken by surprise next morning. Long before Mr.

Falkirk was up, before the house was fairly astir with servants, there was a new voice in their concert; one almost as busy and musical as their own. Reo Hartshorne--the st.u.r.dy gardener and lodge-keeper--thought so, listening with wonder to hear what a change it made. Wych Hazel had found him out planting flowers for her, and with his hand taken in both hers had finished the half-begun recognition of last night. Now she stood watching him as he plied his spade, refres.h.i.+ng his labour with a very streamlet of talk, flitting round him and plucking flowers like a humming-bird supplied with fingers.

The servants pa.s.sing to and fro about their work smiled to each other; Mrs. Byw.a.n.k came by turns to the door to catch a look or a word; Reo himself lifted his brown hand and made believe it was to brush away the perspiration. Another observer who had come upon the scene, observed it very pa.s.sively--a girl, a small girl, in the dress of the poor, and with the dull eyes of observance which often mark the children of the poor. They expressed nothing, but that they looked.

'Good morning, child,' said Miss Hazel. 'Do you want me to give you a bunch of flowers?'

'No.'

'What then?'

'Mammy sent me to see if the lady was come.'

'Who is mammy? and what does _she_ want?' said Wych Hazel, cutting more rosebuds and dropping them into her ap.r.o.n.

'Mammy wants to see the lady.'

'Well, is she coming to see me?'

'She can't come.'

'Why not?'--a quick shower of laughter and dew-drops, called down by a fruitless spring after a spray of white roses.

'She lays abed,' said the child, after the shower was over.

'O, is she sick?' with a sudden gravity. 'Then I will come and see her. Where does she live?'

The child went away as soon as sure arrangements were made for the fulfilment of the promise. Wych Hazel's first visitor! one of the two cla.s.ses sure to find her out with no delay. And Miss Kennedy was about as well versed in the one as in the other.

The summons came to her to attend the breakfast room. Mr.

Falkirk was there, fixed in an easy chair and pamphlet; the morning stir had not reached him.

'How long do we remain at Chickaree?' he asked, as he b.u.t.tered his m.u.f.fin.

'Why, dear Mr. Falkirk, you might as well ask me how long gentlemen will wear their present becoming style of head- dress! I don't know.'

'I gather that it would not be safe to order post-horses for departure. The question remains: would it be safe to order other horses for the stable at home? One or the other thing it is absolutely necessary to do.'

'The other horses, sir, by all means. And especially my pony carriage.'

'I shall have to have one built to order,' remarked Mr.

Falkirk, after the pause of half an egg.

'And have it lined with blue--to set me off.'

'With a d.i.c.key behind--to set me on.'

'No, indeed! I'll have Dingee for an outrider, and then we'll be a complete set of Brownies. You must order quick-footed horses for me, Mr. Falkirk--I may be reduced to the fate of the Calmuck girls.'

A single dark flash was in Mr. Falkirk's glance; but he only said: 'Who is to have the first race, my dear?'

'Mr. Falkirk, you should rather be anxious as to who will have the last. But get me a fast horse, sir, and let me practise'-- and flitting away from the table and about the room Miss Hazel sang--

' "The lady stude on the castle wa', "Beheld baith date and down; "Then she was ware of a host of men "Came ryding towards the town.

"O see ye not, my merry men a', "O see ye not what I see?

"Methinks I see a host of men: "I marvel wha' they be." '

And thereupon, finding she had suddenly come rather close to the subject, Miss Hazel dashed out of the room.

The day proved warm. The air, losing its morning dew and freshness, moved listlessly about among the leaves; the sky looked gla.s.sy; the cattle stood panting in the shade, or mused, ankle deep, in the brooks; only the birds were stirring.

With thought and action as elastic as theirs, the young mistress of Chickaree prepared for her visit to the poor woman; afraid neither of the hot sunbeams nor of certain white undulations of cloud that just broke the line of the western horizon. Mr. Falkirk had walked down to his cottage; there was no one to counsel or hinder. And over the horses there was small consultation needed; the only two nags found being a young vixen of a black colt, and an intensely sedate horse of no particular colour which Mrs. Byw.a.n.k was accustomed to drive to church. Relinquis.h.i.+ng this respectable creature to Dingee, Wych Hazel perched herself upon Vixen and set forth; walking the colt now to keep by her little guide, but promising herself a good trot on the way home.

The child had come to show her the way, and went in a shuffling amble by the side of the colt's black legs. For a good while they kept the road which had been travelled yesterday; at last turned off to another which presently became pleasantly shady. Woods closed it in, made it rather lonely in fact, but n.o.body thought now of anything but the grateful change. There were clouds which might hide the sun by and by, but just now he was powerful and they were only lifting their white heads stealthily in the west. At a rough stile, beyond which a foot track led deeper into the wood, the girl stopped.

'It's in here,' she said.

It was very clear that Vixen could not cross the stile. So her young rider dismounted and looping up the heavy folds of her riding skirt as best she might, disappeared from the eyes of Dingee among the trees. Her dress was a pretty enough dress after all, for though the skirts were dark and heavy, the white dimity jacket was all airiness and ruffles; and once fairly in the shade of the trees, Wych Hazel let her riding hat fall back and rest on her shoulders in very childish fas.h.i.+on indeed. Her little guide trotted on before her; till they saw the house they had come for.

It was a place of s.h.i.+ftless poverty; of need, no doubt, but not of industry; Wych Hazel was humbly begged to supply deficiencies which ought not to have been. Inexperienced as she was, she scarcely understood it. Nevertheless she was glad when the visit was over and she could step out of the door again. The clouds had not hid the sun yet, and she went lightly on through the trees, singing to herself according to custom, till she was near the stile; then she was 'ware' of somebody approaching and the singing ceased. The glance which showed her a stranger revealed also what made her glance again as they drew nearer; it was a person of uncommonly good exterior and fine bearing. A third glance would not have been given, but that, as they came close, Wych Hazel received the homage of a very profound and courteous salutation, and the gentleman, presenting a branch of white roses, said with sufficient deference,

'Earth, must offer tribute!--and cannot, without hands--'

And then pa.s.sed swiftly on. Amused, startled, Wych Hazel also quickened her step; wondering to herself what sort of country she had fallen upon. It was ridiculously like a fairy tale, this whole afternoon's work. The little barefooted guide, the sick woman with her 'young goodness' and 'your ladys.h.i.+p,' now this upstarting knight. There were the roses in her hand, too, as much like the famed spray gathered by the merchant in 'Beauty and the Beast,' as mortal roses could be! But the adventure was not over. As she reached the stile she heard the same voice beside her again. The stranger held her riding whip, which Wych Hazel had left behind her at the cottage; the little girl had met him, bringing it, he said. And then he went on--'It is impossible not to know that I am speaking to Miss Kennedy. I am a stranger in the country, but my aunt, Mme. Lasalle, is well known to Mr. Falkirk. Will Miss Kennedy allow me to a.s.sist her in remounting?'

It was gracefully said, with quietly modulated tones that belong only to a high grade of society, and the speaker had a handsome face and good presence. Nevertheless, Wych Hazel had no mind to be 'remounted' by any one, and was very near saying as much; for in her, 'temperament' r.e.t.a.r.ded the progress of conventionalism sadly. As it was, she gave him a hesitating a.s.sent, and received his proffered a.s.sistance. Then lifting his hat, he stood while she pa.s.sed on.

It was time to ride, for the sky was dark with clouds, the air breathless, and sharp growls of thunder spoke in the distance, at every one of which Vixen made an uneasy motion of ears and head, to show what she would do when they came nearer.

'We must ride for it, Dingee,'--Miss Hazel said to her dark attendant.

'Reckon we'll get it, too, Miss Hazel,' was Dingee's reply, and a heavy drop or two said 'yes, it is coming.' Wych Hazel laughed at him, cantering along on her black pony like a brown sprite, the rising wind making free with her hair and hat ribbands, the rose spray made fast for her b.u.t.tonhole. But as she dashed out of the woods upon a tract of open country, the distance before her was one sheet of grey rain and mist, and a near peal of thunder that almost took Vixen off her feet, showed what it would be to face such a storm, so mounted. And now the raindrops began to patter near at hand.

But where to go? She had pa.s.sed no place of refuge in the woodland, and before her the storm hid every thing from sight.

So, after a second's thought, Wych Hazel turned and flew down a side road a half a mile to the very door of a low stone house, the first she had seen, sprang off her frightened pony, and darted into the open hall door, leaving Dingee to find shelter for himself and his charge. Then she began to wonder where she was, and what the people would say to her; at first she had been only glad to get off Vixen's back, the pony had jumped and reared at such a rate for the last five minutes.