Ralph Wilton's weird Part 14

"Certainly!" cried Wilton, who was feeling dreadfully bored by the flagging conversation and general restraint of Moncrief's presence; "your dress will be dry by this time, and while you put it on I will order the dog-cart. I will drive you over to Brosedale in half an hour, snow or no snow."

"You--drive me--oh, no! I can walk quite well; I am not the least afraid. Do not come out again."

"My dear Miss Rivers! allow you to walk alone? Impossible! Even this stern Bones, this incarnation of inexorable Fate, would not demand such a sacrifice.--Moncrief, ring the bell; summon Mrs. McKollop from the vasty deep to attend our fair guest.--You must know, Miss Rivers, my brother-in-arms is part proprietor of this sylvan lodge."

"Then will he forgive my intrusion," said their guest, with an air so deprecating as to a man of his age, so certainly dignified as to herself, yet so simple withal, that the hidden spring of chivalry far down in the man's nature was struck and pushed to the surface all the more strongly for the depth of the boring.

"You must think me 'a skeleton of the feast,' indeed, as Wilton has been good enough to describe me, if I were not ready to welcome the chance visit of a charming young lady; I am not quite so hopeless an old 'Bones' as you both make out."

"Bravo!" cried Wilton, highly pleased at his change of tone.

"Thank you!" said Miss Rivers, simply; and then the door opened to admit Mrs. McKollop, who wore upon her arm a ma.s.s of drapery, and in her hand a very small pair of boots, evidently the garments she had been drying.

"They are all nice an' weel aired, if you be going," said the benign ruler of the roost. "It's a wee bit clear just noo, but I'm thinking the frost is coming on, so the snaw will be harder by-an'-by; an' if the major don't mind having dinner an hour before his usual time, a drap o'

hare soup and a cut out of a loin o' mountain mutton will warm ye up weel, an' mak' ye ready for the road," or, as she p.r.o.nounced it, "rod."

"Mrs. M'Kollop, you are a most sensible woman," said Wilton, gravely.

Moncrief looked alarmed; and Miss Rivers merely observed, "I will come with you," and left the room, accompanied by the friendly cook. Wilton followed immediately, to give orders about the dog-cart, and Major Moncrief was left alone. He walked once or twice up and down the room with a troubled and irate expression; he then stirred the fire viciously, threw down the poker with a clang, and, drawing a chair close up, thrust his feet almost against the bars. How long he sat in gloomy reverie he knew not, but he was roused by the entrance of Wilton, who ushered in their guest, saying, "Miss Rivers wants to say good-by, Moncrief."

"Yes, good-by!" said she, in her soft yet clear voice, which always seemed to fix attention. "Thank you--thank you both for your kind hospitality."

With a slight, touching hesitation she held out her hand, and Moncrief took it with much politeness and an altered expression.

"Good-by, then, as you will not stay for the hare soup and a cut of the mountain mutton. I hope you will not take cold. Have you nothing to put round your throat? You must have this m.u.f.fler of mine, if you will condescend to wear it.--Jump up, Wilton. I will help Miss Rivers."

So spoke the Major, in his joy to speed the parting guest. Wilton obeyed, somewhat amused, and they started. But the drive was a silent one on Miss Rivers's side; all Wilton's dexterous observations and thoughtful care could not win a look--scarce a word. "Does she regret she opened her heart to me?" he thought; and, as they neared the great house, he could not refrain from saying, "I shall often think of the interesting sketch you have given me of your wanderings in many lands, Miss Rivers, though I shall only speak of them to yourself."

"Pray, pray, put it all out of your mind! I am half ashamed of having talked so much of myself. Think no more of it."

"Suppose the subject will not be banished? I cannot. At least," resumed Wilton, after a moment's pause to tighten the reins of his self-control, "I shall look upon liberal politics with a new light, after the glimpse you have given me of their inner life."

"If, when you have power, you will think of the people, I am not sorry I spoke." She said it very softly, almost sadly.

"I shall look in to-morrow, to know if you are all right," he replied.

They had now reached the entrance. Wilton sprang down, and, as Miss Rivers was m.u.f.fled in plaids, nearly lifted her from the carriage, though with all the deference he would have shown a princess.

"Good-by! I hope you will not be the worse."

"Adieu!" For a moment she raised her eyes to his with a frank, kind glance, and vanished into the house.

For a moment Wilton hesitated, then mounted the dog-cart, and drove back as fast as circ.u.mstances would allow. He was conscious of an angry, uncomfortable sensation toward Moncrief--a feeling that it would be a great relief to avoid dining with him--of a curious, uneasy strain of dissatisfaction with himself--with the routine of life--with everything! It was so infernally stupid, smoking and reading, or listening to Moncrief's prosings, all the evening; while that cranky, tiresome boy, Fergusson, would be talked to, and soothed, and petted by Ella Rivers. And she--would she wish to be back at Glenraven, telling the story of her simple yet stirring life to an absorbed listener? Yes, without a shadow of conceit he might certainly conclude that she would prefer an intelligent companion like himself to that cross-grained boy; but he had very little to nourish conceit upon in the recollection of the delightful _tete-a-tete_ he had enjoyed. Never before had he met a woman so free from the indescribable consciousness by which the gentler s.e.x acknowledge the presence of the stranger. She must have been much in the society of men, and of men, too, who were not lovers. Yet stop! How much of her composure and frankness was due to the fact of her being already wooed and promised to one of those confounded _carbonari_ fellows? The very idea made Wilton double-thong his leader--for tandem stages had been thought necessary--to the infinite surprise of his servant. However, he reached his destination at last, and as he threw off his plaid in the hall Mrs. McKollop's broad and beaming face appeared at a side-door.

"Aweel, sir, din ye win ower a' right to Brosedale wi' the young leddy?

I've been aye watching the weather; for I don't think she is just that strong. Eh, sir! but she is a bonnie bird--sae saft and kind! When she was going, after I had red up her things for her, she says, 'If you are as good a cook as you are a ladies' maid, I am sure Major Moncrief must be pleased with his dinners,' says she; an' wi' that she takes this neckerchief from her pretty white throat, and says she, so gentle and so grand, 'Wear this for me, Mrs. McKollop,' putting it round my neck her ainsel'. 'Think, whenever ye put it on,' says she, 'that I shall always remember your motherly care.' The bonnie bird! I'm thinking she has nae mither, or they wouldn't let her be worrit wi' that ill-faured, ill-tempered bairn at Brosedale."

"I left Miss Rivers quite safe, I a.s.sure you, and, as far as I could observe, quite well, at the door," said Wilton, who had listened with much attention to this long speech, looking all the time at the pretty violet necktie held up in triumph by Mrs. McKollop, and conscious of a boyish but strong inclination to purchase it, even at a high premium, from the worthy house-keeper. "I am sure you did your best for our charming visitor."

"That I did; an' I tauld her that it was a pleasure to cook for the colonel; for though she spoke of the major, it was aye _you_ she thocht on."

"Oh, nonsense!" returned Wilton, good-humoredly, and he left the eloquent Mrs. McKollop, to join the moody Moncrief, with whom he exchanged but few remarks, till dinner thawed them. The evening pa.s.sed much as usual, but neither mentioned their guest--a fact by no means indicating that she was forgotten by either.

CHAPTER VI.

Wilton was true to his intention, and rode over the next day to make the promised inquiry, when he had the pleasure of spending half an hour with Donald, but Ella Rivers never appeared. The boy was in one of his better moods, although that was a poor consolation.

"I thought Ella was never coming back yesterday," he said, in his plaintive, querulous voice. "I could not make out whether she had been lost in the snow, or whether your cousin, that Mr. St. George Wilton, had run away with her. Oh! I had such a miserable day!--Miss Walker fussing in and out, and no one able to do anything for me! Where did you pick up Ella?"

"On that piece of common half-way to Monkscleugh; and it is very fortunate I did so, or perhaps you might have been obliged to do without her for some time longer. I fear she would have lost her way altogether."

"Oh, she knows the country, and has plenty of pluck."

"Still, she might have been wandering about for hours, and I fancy she is not over strong."

"She is well enough! Every one is well enough but me!"

"I suppose," said Wilton, to change the subject, "the rest of your party return to-morrow?"

"I am afraid they do! I wish they would stay away! They have taken me up disgustingly since _you_ came to see me. I was much happier alone with Ella! I don't mind _your_ coming--you are not a humbug; but I hate Helen, she is so insolent; and that cousin of yours is detestable. He is so conceited--so ready to make allowance for everyone. And then he always speaks Italian to Ella, and worries her; I know he does, though she will not tell me what he says."

The boy's words struck an extraordinary pang to Wilton's heart. Had Ella met this diplomatic sprig in Italy? Had he the enormous advantage of having known her and her father in their old free wandering days? If so, why had she not mentioned him? The irrepressible answer to this sprang up with the query--whatever her antecedents, Ella spoke out of the depths of a true soul.

"Well," exclaimed Wilton, while these thoughts revolved themselves, "if you do not like him, do not let him come in here. But I thought he was a universal genius, and an utterly fascinating fellow!"

"The women think so," returned young Fergusson, with an air of superior wisdom, "but I think him a nuisance. Will you ring the bell, Colonel Wilton?"

"What has become of Miss Rivers?" to the servant, who quickly appeared.

"Tell her to come here."

Though disposed to quarrel with the terms of the message, Wilton awaited the result with some anxiety. The reply was, "Miss Walker's compliments; Miss Rivers was hearing Miss Isabel read Italian, and she could not come just yet."

"It is infamous!" exclaimed Donald, working himself into a fury. "They all take her from me--they don't care what becomes of me! Give me my crutches, James. I will go to the school-room myself; so I shall say good-by to you, Colonel."

He dragged himself out of the room with surprising rapidity, and Wilton felt he must not stay.

The rest of the day was rendered restless and uncomfortable by Donald's words. But Wilton, though of a pa.s.sionate and eager nature, had also a strong will, and was too reasonable not to determine resolutely to banish the tyrannic idea which had taken such possession of his heart or imagination. He noticed, with mingled resentment and amus.e.m.e.nt, the sudden silence and reserve of his friend Moncrief on the subject of Brosedale and its inhabitants. What an absurd, strait-laced old Puritan he was growing! Wilton felt it would be a relief when he departed to pay his promised visit in the South. So, as the weather, after the memorable snow-storm, moderated, and proved favorable for sport, hunting and shooting were resumed with redoubled vigor, and the Major's solemn looks gradually cleared up.

"I shall be rather in the blues here when you are gone," said Wilton, as they sat together the evening before the Major was to leave. "You have not been the liveliest companion in the world of late, still I shall miss you, old boy."

The Major gave an inarticulate grunt, without removing his cigar from his lips.

"So," continued Wilton, "as Lord D---- asks me over to dine and stay a few days while General Loftus and another Crimean man are there, I shall go; and perhaps I may look up the 15th afterwards; they are quartered at C----."

"Do!" said the Major, emphatically, and with unusual animation. "There's nothing more mischievous than moping along and getting into the blue devils!--nothing more likely to drive a man to suicide or matrimony, or some infernal entanglement even worse! Go over to D---- Castle by all means--go and have a jolly week or two with the 15th; and, if you will take my advice, do not return here."