Rutledge Part 35

So this was the way which Mr. Rutledge had found to keep his promise to me, and gratify his own wishes at the same time. It took away all the pleasure of my antic.i.p.ations, however, to have it fulfilled in this way.

It seemed to me a sort of desecration of the grand, quiet stateliness of the old place to have all these gay people invading it. I could hardly fancy it full of careless, noisy, chattering guests, resounding with the captain's loud laugh, and Ella Wynkar's unmeaning cackle. What would Mrs. Roberts say? How would Kitty like it?

CHAPTER XXIV.

"In all his humors, whether grave or mellow, He's such a testy, touchy, pleasant fellow, Has so much mirth, and wit, and spleen about him, There is no living with him, or without him."

"The next station will be Rutledge," said Phil, leaning back to announce the fact to the detachment of our party in the rear.

"I am not sorry to hear it, for one," said Ella Wynkar, with a yawn.

"Josephine, chere, are you not tired to death?"

But Josephine, chere, was too busy with collecting books, shawls, and bags, and loading the captain therewith, in antic.i.p.ation of our arrival at the station, to vouchsafe an answer.

"Travelling all day is rather exhausting," said Phil, looking at his watch. "It's half-past six--a little behind time, but it won't hurt Mr.

Rutledge to wait for us awhile. Ah! there's the whistle. We shall be at the station in another minute. Now, Aunt Edith, if you and Miss Wynkar will trust yourselves to me, I think the rest are provided for. Victor!

what are you about? Don't you see we're here, man?"

Victor started up, and taking my parasol and shawl, offered me his arm as the train stopped, and the conductor, bursting open the car door, shouted "Rutledge!" as if we were to escape for our lives.

I heard Mr. Rutledge's voice before I saw him. We were the last of the party, and there being a little crowd at the car-door, we were obliged to stand for a moment inside, while the others stepped on the platform.

It was a lovely June evening; the air was fresh and soft, and the sunset had left a rich glow on the sky, and lighted up with new verdure the green earth. It was so delicious to be out of the city; it was so bewildering to feel I was at Rutledge again. And with a beating heart, I followed my escort, as he forced a way for me through the crowd, and stepped down on the platform.

Mr. Rutledge was waiting to receive us. I was not quite self-possessed enough myself to be certain that I saw a slight change in his manner as he recognized my companion; if it did occur, however, it was overcome as quickly, and he welcomed Mr. Viennet courteously. With a few words of welcome and congratulation upon my recovery, he led the way toward the carriage. My aunt and Miss Wynkar were already in it. Josephine and Captain McGuffy were established in a light wagon by themselves, while the open carriage and the bays stood as yet unappropriated.

"I think, Mrs. Churchill," said Mr. Rutledge, standing at the open door of the carriage, "that perhaps you had better make a place for this young lady inside. She is not very strong as yet, I fancy, and the evening air"----

"Oh! pray," I exclaimed, shrinking back, "let me go in the open carriage. I hate a close carriage--it always makes my head ache."

"There's not the least dampness in the air to-night," urged Mr. Viennet, and meeting with no further opposition, I turned to the open carriage, and at a whispered suggestion from him, mounted up upon the front seat.

He sprang up beside me, and taking the reins from Michael, who, bowing delightedly, had been saying, "Welcome back, Miss," ever since the train stopped, we only waited for Grace and Ellerton Wynkar to get in, before we started off at a round pace, leaving the carriage and the captain, and Mr. Rutledge, who was on horseback, far behind.

It was a lovely evening. The fields and woods were in their freshest green; everything, from the gra.s.s by the roadside to the waving forest trees, looked as they never can look after June. The dust of summer, and its parching heat, had not yet soiled and shrivelled the smallest leaf or blade; but fresh from the warm spring rains, and the pleasant spring suns.h.i.+ne, they budded and shone as if there were no such thing as scorching summer heats, and choking dust, and parching thirst, to come.

The sky--fit sky to bend over such an earth--was of the clearest blue, and the few clouds that hung around the setting sun were light and fleecy, tinged with rose and tipped with gold. The soft breeze, coming out of the west over fields of clover and acacias in bloom, and lilac hedges, and cottage gardens full of early flowers, and cottage porches covered with blowing roses and climbing honeysuckles, steeped the listening senses with a sort of silent ecstasy, that made commonplace conversation a profanation of the hour. Why _would_ Grace and her companion keep up such a constant chattering. It was unbearable; and when Ellerton, leaning forward, offered Victor his cigar-case, the latter, with a quick gesture of impatience, exclaimed:

"Ah! _merci_, not to-night. It's too nice an evening, my good friend, to be spoiled with such perfumes. The young ladies like roses better than cigars, I fancy."

And Ellerton, who reverenced Victor as a high authority on all social questions, quietly put away his cigar-case, and said no more about it.

It was a long drive from the station to the house, and our hopes of being the first of the party to arrive, were dashed by the occurrence of a little accident just as we entered the village. The off horse, shying violently at a loaded wagon, as we pa.s.sed it rapidly, reared and fell back, breaking the pole in two, and throwing himself and his fellow into ecstasies of fear, plunging and struggling with the want of presence of mind, and the reckless disregard of consequences always manifested by terrified horseflesh under circ.u.mstances of sudden alarm.

Victor, however, was a good horseman, and after a short battle, brought them to terms, Grace, meantime, shrieking violently, and Ellerton imploring him to let him get the ladies out at once, which looked rather like one word for the ladies and two for himself. Victor requested him simply to hold his tongue and sit still, and Ellerton, without a remonstrance, acquiesced, as the horses, now subdued, stood quite unresisting, while Victor, giving the reins to me, sprang down, followed by Michael from behind, and the countryman, whose load of brush had caused the accident. We were, fortunately, just by a blacksmith's shed, and in a few minutes that official himself, in his leathern ap.r.o.n and bare arms, was busily employed in remedying the mishap.

The horses were still a little restive, and Victor was standing by the head of one and Michael by the other, when the rest of the party came up. Quite an excitement was created, of course, at seeing us in this disabled condition, and our host, springing from his horse, hurried up in some alarm to ascertain for himself the extent of the accident, which Ellerton Wynkar, standing up in the carriage, explained at large to the rest of the party, adding that, "it might have been something serious if we had not been very prompt."

Victor bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Grace turned away her head; nothing but the consciousness of not having distinguished herself during the action, restrained her from bringing down Mr. Wynkar "a peg or two" by a statement of facts.

Mr. Rutledge, finding that the repairing of the pole was likely to occupy some little time longer, said that the young ladies had better get in the carriage; he had no doubt Mr. Arbuthnot would willingly give up his seat.

Phil, of course, most urgently begged we would do so, but for me, the idea of being cooped up in the carriage with Mrs. Churchill, and Ella, and Grace, was insupportable, and I expressed my resolution of staying by the s.h.i.+p. Mr. Viennet and the smithy said it would only be a few minutes more, and I declared I didn't in the least mind waiting, it was such a lovely evening, and I couldn't think of crowding the carriage.

Grace, partly from perversity, and partly from a little lingering fear of the bays, said she should accept Phil's invitation, and without more ado, gave her hand to Mr. Rutledge and sprang out.

"May I advise you?" said he, coming back to me after he had put Grace in the carriage.

"Not against my will, if you please. Indeed, I had rather wait."

"That settles it," he answered, bowing. "I'm sorry, gentlemen," he continued, to Victor and Ellerton, "to leave you in this fas.h.i.+on, but my duties, as host, require me to ride forward with the ladies, and I hope you will soon follow us."

Victor a.s.sured him of his perfect confidence, that we would be at home almost as soon as they would; and then, with a polite commendation of his fort.i.tude under misfortune, Mr. Rutledge threw himself upon his horse, and galloped after the carriage. I could not help feeling a little awkwardly; it is never pleasant to be the only lady among a number of gentlemen. Besides those of our own party, several men of the village had collected around us, and with their hands in their pockets, and in a very easy, sauntering way, were offering their comments on the accident.

Victor walked angrily up to one, who, with a short pipe between his lips, had ventured rather too near, and was leaning nonchalantly against the fore-wheel; and knocking the pipe out of his mouth, took him by the shoulder and ordered him to take himself off. Didn't he see there was a lady in the carriage?

The man moved sulkily away, but I saw him more than once look back with an ugly expression in his eyes toward Victor, as he crossed the road and disappeared in the woods that skirted the highway.

Just at that moment, a sorrel horse drew up beside us, and an inquiring face was thrust out from the gig behind it.

"What's the matter, Michael? Anybody hurt? An accident, did you say?"

inquired a voice that gave me a cold chill.

"That detestable doctor already!" And returning stiffly his salutations as he recognized me, and hurried up to the carriage, I said there had been no accident to anything but the pole of the carriage, and that was nearly remedied, and we had plenty of a.s.sistance.

The doctor bowed, but did not seem in the least discomposed by my too obvious rudeness, and leaning comfortably on the wheel, as the dismissed clown had done before him, continued to address me in a tone of easy familiarity that was too annoying to me to be concealed, and my face must have told the story; for Victor, calling to one of the men to hold the horses a moment, walked quickly up behind the doctor, and laying his hand heavily on his shoulder, said, in a tone by no means equivocal:

"I say, my good fellow, you are annoying this lady, and I must ask you to step back!"

The doctor did step back, and turning quickly, faced him.

"Victor Viennet, as I am a sinner!"

I looked on in wonder, as I saw Victor give a violent start, and change color; then recovering himself after a moment, he said, in altered voice:

"I ask your pardon, Dr. Hugh, I didn't see your face. How, under heaven, did you happen to turn up here?"

There was an expression on Victor's face, as he said this, which seemed involuntarily to indicate that the fact of Dr. Hugh's turning up here, was just the most disagreeable fact that could possibly have transpired, and so essentially "cute" a man as the doctor, could not have failed to see it, but it did not seem in the least to interfere with his complacency.

"How did I happen to turn up here? Why, my good fellow (as you said just now), by the most natural process in the world. You see, after we parted, a year ago, in the city"----

"Yes, yes," said Victor, hurriedly, and in a low tone, "I've got to look after the smith now. You can tell me there."

And making some apology to me for the continued detention, he turned to retrace his steps. The doctor followed, and pa.s.sed his arm familiarly through Victor's, at which I saw he winced, but did not attempt to resent; and the doctor continued to talk to him in a low and confidential tone. Twilight had already descended before the smith p.r.o.nounced the job completed, and Michael, backing up the horses, put them to the carriage. While this was being accomplished, Victor and Dr.

Hugh, standing a few paces apart from the others, talked together, or rather, the doctor talked and Victor listened with ill-concealed impatience.

I could not hear a word that pa.s.sed, but I could see that Victor was suffering torture at the hands of the bland doctor, and his face, for several minutes after he had parted from him and resumed his seat in the carriage, wore an expression of pain and anger. We had started and driven on for some distance before either spoke, and the first to break the silence, I said, with more curiosity than courtesy: