Roland Cashel Volume I Part 69

"There goes one whose philosophy of life is simple enough," said Linton, as he stopped at a break in the holly hedge, beside which they were walking, and pointed to Lord Charles, who, mounted on a blood-horse, was leading the way for a lady, equally well carried, over some sporting-looking fences.

"I say, Jim," cried Frobisher, "let her go a little free at them; she 's always too hot when you hold her back."

"You don't know, perhaps, that Jim is the lady," whispered Linton, and withdrawing for secrecy behind the cover of the hedge. "Jim," continued Linton, "is the familiar for Jemima. She's Meek's daughter, and the wildest romp--"

"By Jove! how well she cleared it. Here she comes back again," cried Cashel, in all the excitement of a favorite sport.

"That 's all very pretty, Jim," called out Frobisher, "but let me observe it's a very Brummagem style of thing, after all. I want you to ride up to your fence with your mare in hand, touch her lightly on the flank, and pop her over quietly."

"She is too fiery for all that," said the girl, as she held in the mettlesome animal, and endeavored to calm her by patting her neck.

"How gracefully she sits her saddle," muttered Cashel; and the praise might have been forgiven from even a less ardent admirer of equestrianism, for she was a young, fresh-looking girl, with large hazel eyes, and a profusion of bright auburn hair which floated and flaunted in every graceful wave around her neck and shoulders. She possessed, besides, that inestimable advantage as a rider which perfect fearlessness supplies, and seemed to be inspired with every eager impulse of the bounding animal beneath her.

As Cashel continued to look, she had taken the mare a canter round a large gra.s.s field, and was evidently endeavoring, by a light hand and a soothing, caressing voice, to calm down her temper; stooping, as she went, in the saddle to pat the animal's shoulder, and almost bending her own auburn curls to the counter.

"She is perfect!" cried Roland, in a very ecstasy. "See that, Linton!

Mark how she sways herself in her saddle!"

"That comes of wearing no stays," said Linton, dryly, as he proceeded to light a cigar.

"Now she's at it. Here she comes!" cried Cashel almost breathless with anxiety; for the mare, chafed by the delay, no sooner was turned towards the fence once more, than she stretched out and dashed wildly at it.

It was a moment of intense interest, for the speed was far too great to clear a high leap with safety; the fear was, however, but momentary, for, with a tremendous bound, the mare cleared the fence, and, after a couple of minutes' cantering, stood with heaving flanks and swelling nostril beside the other horse.

"You see my misfortune, I suppose?" said the girl, addressing Frobisher.

"No. She 's not cut about the legs?" said he, as he bent down in his saddle and took a most searching survey of the animal.

"No, the hack is all right But don't you perceive that bit of blue cloth flaunting yonder on the hedge?--that is part of my habit. See what a tremendous rent is here; I declare, Charley, it is scarcely decent" And to ill.u.s.trate the remark, she wheeled her horse round so as to show the fringed and jagged end of her riding-habit, beneath which a very finely turned ankle and foot were now seen.

"Then why don't you wear trousers, like everybody else?" said Frobisher, gruffly, and scarce bestowing even a pa.s.sing glance at the well-arched instep.

"Because I never get time to dress like any one else. You order me out like one of your Newmarket boys," replied she, pettishly.

"By Jove! I wish any one of them had got your hand."

"To say nothing of the foot, Charley," said she, roguishly, and endeavoring to arrange her torn drapery to the best advantage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 432]

"No; that may do to astonish our friend Cashel, and make 'my lady'

jealous. By the way, Jim, I don't see why you should n't 'enter for the plate' as well as the Kennyf.e.c.k girls."

"I like _you_ better, Charley," said she, curveting her horse, and pa.s.saging him alternately from side to side.

"This is the second time to-day I have played the eavesdropper unconsciously," said Roland, in a whisper, "and with the proverbial fortune of the listener in both cases." And with these words he moved on, leaving Linton still standing opposite the opening of the hedge.

Cashel had not advanced many paces beneath the shelter of the tall hollies, when Frobisher accidentally caught sight of Linton, and called out, "Ha, Tom,--found you at last! Where have you been hiding the whole morning?--you that should, at least, represent our host here."

Linton muttered something, while, by a gesture, he endeavored to caution Frobisher, and apprise him of Cashel's vicinity. The fretful motion of hie horse, however, prevented his seeing the signal, and he resumed,--

"One of my people tells me that Cashel came with the Kilgoffs this morning. I say, Tom, you'll have to look sharp in that quarter. Son, there--quiet, Gustave--gently, man!"

"He's too fat, I think. You always have your cattle too heavy," said Linton, hoping to change the topic.

"He carries flesh well. But what is it I had to tell you? Oh, I remember now,--about the yacht club. I have just got a letter from Derwent, in which he says the thing is impossible. His remark is more true than courteous. He says, 'It's all very well in such a place as Ireland to know such people, but that it won't do in England; besides that, if Cashel does wish to get among men of the world, he ought to join some light cavalry corps for a year or so, and stand plucking by Stanhope, and Dashfield, and the rest of them. They 'll bring him out if he 'll only pay handsomely.'--Soh, there, man,--do be quiet, will you?--The end of it is, that Derwent will not put his name up. I must say it's a disappointment to me; but, as a younger brother, I have only to smile and submit."

While Lord Charles was retailing this piece of information in no very measured tone, and only interrupted by the occasional impatience of his horse, Linton's eyes were fixed on Cashel, who, at the first mention of his own name, increased his speed, so as to suggest the fond hope that some, at least, of this unwelcome intelligence might have escaped him.

"You'll have to break the thing to him, Tom," resumed Lord Charles. "You know him better than any of us, and how the matter can be best touched upon."

"Not the slightest necessity for that, _now_," said Linton, with a low, deliberate voice.

"Why so?"

"Because you have just done so yourself. If you had only paid the least attention to my signal, you 'd have seen that Cashel was only a few yards in front of me during the entire of your agreeable revelations."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Frobisher, as his head dropped forward in overwhelming confusion; "what is to be done?"

"Rather difficult to say, if he heard all," said Linton, coolly.

"You 'd say it was a quiz, Tom. _You 'd_ pretend that you saw him all the while, and only did the thing for joke's sake, eh?"

"Possibly enough I might," replied Linton; "but _you_ could n't."

"How very awkward, to be sure!" exclaimed Frobisher. "I say, Jim, I wish you 'd make up to Cashel a bit, and get us out of this sc.r.a.pe. There's Tom ready to aid and abet you, if only to take him out of the Kilgoffs'

way."

"There never was a more propitious moment, Miss Meek,'" said Linton, pa.s.sing through the hedge, and approaching close to her. "He's a great prize,--the best estate in Ireland."

"The nicest stable of horses in the whole country," echoed Frobisher.

"A good-looking fellow, too; only wanting a little training to make presentable anywhere."

"That white barb, with the flea-bitten flank, would carry you to perfection, Jim."

"He 'll be a peer one of these days, if he is only patient enough not to commit himself in politics."

"And such a hunting country for _you_," said Frobisher, in ecstasy.

"I tell you I don't care for him; I never did," said the girl, as a flush of half-angry meaning colored her almost childish features.

"But don't you care to be mistress of fifteen thousand a year, and the finest stud in Ireland?"

"Mayhap a countess," said Linton, quietly. "Your papa would soon manage that."

"I 'd rather be mistress of myself, and this brown mare, Joan, here,--that's all I know; and I'll have nothing to do with any of your plots and schemes," said she, in a voice whose utterance was that of emotion.

"That's it," said Frobisher, in a low tone to Linton; "there's no getting them, at that age, with a particle of brains."