The Daughter Pays Part 18

"I don't want any lunch," she answered faintly, "but I must rest.

Please go on and have lunch yourself, and leave me here awhile in the shade."

"Ha!" he said, delighted at this confirmation of his thoughts. "No, young woman, I think it safer to keep my eye on you."

She made no reply in words. Her eyes were closed, and two tears forced their way beneath the lids and slipped down her cheeks.

He made an exclamation of vexation. "Not good for much, are you?" he grunted. "Comes of eating no breakfast. What am I going to do with you now, I wonder? Why didn't you call a halt before you were completely done for?"

"I didn't think we should go so far," she answered listlessly. She was beyond caring how he felt. She only knew that she could not get up and go on.

The sound of trotting hoofs approaching along the lane beyond the stile was heard. A dog-cart, driven by a pleasant-looking young man, came in sight.

"Good luck!" muttered Gaunt. He raised his voice. "Hallo, Caunter! My wife has been making the rounds with me, and is a bit done up by the heat. Will you get down, and let me drive her home?"

"Why, certainly," said a good-humoured voice, "only too much honoured.

May I beg to be presented to Mrs. Gaunt?"

"Virginia, this is Caunter, my bailiff," said Gaunt, concealing his unwillingness as best he could.

Virginia sat up, opened her eyes and summoned a smile. Young Caunter had descended from the trap, and stood by the stile. As his eyes fell upon the bride, they widened with very spontaneous surprise and admiration.

"I say, this is luck to meet you, to be the first to wish you joy, Mrs.

Gaunt," he said boyishly. "My chief is hugely to be congratulated."

"Oh," said the pale bride, "it is kind of you to say that! But you ought to say he is to be pitied, when I behave in this weak way! I am usually quite a good walker."

Caunter fixed his eyes intently upon the quickly changing colour, and marked the faltering voice. "I've got my flask in my pocket," he said hesitatingly to Gaunt, who nodded and held out his hand.

"A thimbleful of brandy will be the best thing for you," said he, bending over his wife with the cup. "Drink that!"

As usual, she obeyed without dispute. Her colour came back by degrees as the two men exchanged a few sentences about the land.

"Do you feel well enough now to let me drive you back?" asked Gaunt presently.

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you very much, Mr. Caunter." She held out the cup to its owner as she spoke the words, lifting her appealing chin, and giving him a smile such as he had thought existed only in romances.

The husband marked the emotions which expressed themselves in his bailiff's honest countenance. He noticed also the simplicity and unconsciousness of his wife's expression. Nothing he could take hold of.

He crossed the stile, helped her over, put her into the cart, got in himself and gathered up the reins.

"Better get up behind, Hugh," said he.

Caunter reddened slightly and hung back. These two were married only yesterday.

"Yes, you had better. I don't want to have to stable your mare till you come for her," bade his master.

He yielded and jumped up.

With a tact which spoke well for him, he said a few words to Gaunt as they drove, until the quick motion through the air revived Virginia completely, and she began to ask one or two eager questions about the neighbourhood. He found himself speaking of the beauties of Dovedale, of the weird limestone caverns of the Peak, and of the Druid circle at Arbor Low. She was interested. To Caunter it seemed but a minute before they stood at the drive gate of Omberleigh. His head was whirling. He jumped down to open the gate, and said:

"If you don't mind, I will leave you to take Mrs. Gaunt to the door. I want to speak to Emerson."

He opened the gate, and was about to disappear into the lodge, which was occupied by the head gardener, when Gaunt called him back for some message with regard to cuc.u.mbers. As he was speaking, bending down over the side of the cart, the sound of horse's feet upon the road became audible, and a rider hove in sight, who drew rein promptly and shouted a greeting.

He was a somewhat showy young man, with a chestnut moustache and eyes set too close together. He rode a fine beast, and was got up in leggings and cord breeches.

"Why, hang me if it isn't true!" he cried hilariously. "They told me you had been taken prisoner, Gaunt, and I refused to believe it. Bet Charlie Myers two to one against, down at the Market Hall yesterday.

But"--raising his hat, and riding up close to Virginia--"when one sees the lady, the whole thing becomes clear. Poor old chap! you never had a chance. Present me, won't you?"

"This is Mr. Ferris, whose land is not far from here," said Gaunt. "My wife, Ferris."

"But this is simply grand," declared Ferris. "My wife will be ready to eat you, Mrs. Gaunt. Never, since your husband came to these parts, has she been allowed inside his doors. I say, Gaunt, you'll have to keep your door on the chain nowadays to bar out the women, you will, by Jove! They'll simply roll up. When may Joey come and pay her respects?

Give her the start, won't you?"

To Virginia's surprise, Gaunt's manners were equal to an occasion which she could see was very disagreeable to him.

"Mrs. Ferris must give us time," he said simply. "My wife has to go over the house and make some changes before she will feel ready to receive guests. At present we are on our honeymoon, and must not be disturbed. Sure you'll understand."

"Right-O!" replied Mr. Ferris. "But don't bar us out too long, or we may get restive and break in. Welcome to the county, Mrs. Gaunt! You're going to make things hum hereabouts, I can see."

Gaunt, his lips set in a tight, thin line, turned the cart into the drive, waved a hand to his neighbour and drove off. "d.a.m.n!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed under his breath, as the mare quickened her pace. "If I hadn't had to bring you back by the road, we shouldn't have met that jacka.s.s!"

"I'm sorry," said Virginia gravely.

CHAPTER XII

THE BEGINNING OF DEFEAT

"_Oh, heart of stone, are you flesh, and caught By that which you swore to withstand?_"--Tennyson.

"My word, but she's a peach," muttered Mr. Percy Ferris to himself as he rode hastily home through the lanes to lunch. "And old Gaunt's got her! That smoke-dried old curmudgeon! Well, some people have the devil's own luck. Poor little woman. Sold to him, I suppose? Sold, body and soul. And he sits looking as though he would like to shut her up in a harem where no other man but himself could ever set eyes on her. Oh, why wasn't she about in my day? However, one can't have everything, I suppose."

It was as well that he should admit this, for he was considered extremely lucky by most of his neighbours. Beginning life as a veterinary surgeon, he had happened to be about when the late Colonel c.o.xon departed this life, leaving Josephine, his only daughter, sole heiress of Perley Hatch, a nice little property.

Joey was only nineteen at the time, and was what the Americans, with delicate euphemism, call homely. She had projecting teeth, a freckled skin, little twinkling eyes, and a loud voice. In person she was large and ungainly; but she had her points. A bouncing good humour, a fine seat on horseback, and a real love of children and animals made her more or less popular in the district. Ferris was not a good husband, but he was not actively unkind to her, though he spared no chance of letting her know that, but for her money, he would never have looked her way.

As he entered his home, and pa.s.sed through the untidy hall, littered with whips, sticks, children's toys, golf clubs and tennis bats, mingled in wild disorder with coats, jerseys, old hats, gardening gloves and ap.r.o.ns, a loud roaring could be heard, and Joey presently came downstairs, her firstborn son, an ugly fat child of about five, tucked under her arm, kicking, fighting, and bellowing.

"Hallo!" said she, perceiving her husband. "I've been giving Tom a good spanking to teach him not to torture things. I can't think what makes 'em such little demons of cruelty. Bill's just as bad. I won't have it, that's flat. You hear, Tom? If ever you hurt anything you're going to get hurt yourself. Comprenny, my son?"

She set Tom on his feet, dusted him down, pushed her untidy hair out of her eyes with one hand, and patted the boy with the other.

"Kiss and make friends," said she. "Here's daddy, and we're going to have dinner."