Pixie O'Shaughnessy Part 20

"I can understand that, but--just for once! If you were to ask her very nicely to change places with you this time, because--because--er--"-- Hilliard hesitated and pulled his moustache in embarra.s.sment--"because you--"

"Yes, that's just it. What can I say? Because what?" laughed Esmeralda gaily, then suddenly met the gaze of a pair of deep blue eyes, twinkling no longer, but fixed upon her in intent, earnest scrutiny, and flushed in mysterious embarra.s.sment.

"Because it was my last chance, and I had asked you especially to be there. Because I had stayed on purpose to have another ride with you!

That's the true reason, so far as I am concerned. I am sure, if you told Miss Bridgie the truth, she wouldn't have the heart to say No."

Esmeralda looked down at the table and crumbled bread thoughtfully. She was by no means so sure. Bridgie was enough of a mother to take fright at such an open declaration of interest. She would not be so rash as to repeat the conversation _verbatim_, but go to that meet she would, let Bridgie refuse ten times over, let every horse disappear from the stable. Go she would, if she had to borrow the pedlar's pony and ride barebacked all the way. Such was the mental decision; aloud she said languidly--

"Don't know, I'm sure! Perhaps I may be too tired. I'll see when the time comes," and stretched out her hand to beckon Pixie to her side.

Hilliard smiled quietly. He had an extraordinary way of seeing through Esmeralda's pretences, and he welcomed Pixie as genially as if the _tete-a-tete_ were of no consequence in his eyes.

"Well, little white New Year, are you coming to sit down beside us?

Have you had no supper yet? I am sure you must be hungry after all your exertions. Let me wait upon you now, in return for all the pleasure you have given me by your charming singing."

But no, Pixie refused to sit down or to eat any of the good things pressed upon her. For once in her life jellies and creams, even meringues themselves, failed to tempt her appet.i.te, for she was feasting on an even sweeter diet--that of unlimited flattery and praise. As she strolled to and fro among the guests she was greeted on every side with words of commendation for her singing, her charming impersonation of the character a.s.signed to her, and by the more facetious members of the party implored to smile kindly upon them, to promise them her favour, and to remember their especial desires. It was not likely that she was going to sit down in a corner of the room with no one but her sister and that stupid Mr Hilliard, who did nothing but stare at Esmeralda, as if he had never seen a girl before. She shook her head as he pointed to a chair, but lingered a moment to allow him to examine her costume and pay the proper tribute of praise.

"It's charming--quite charming--so simple, and yet so effective. Those few loose flowers are much better than a formal bouquet, and the scroll--who made the scroll? It is most professional, and I see you have a pencil hanging by the side,--white,--to match the rest." He lifted it as he spoke, and made as though about to write, but at that Pixie drew back in dismay.

"No, you mustn't! Be careful,--you must be careful. It won't rub out."

She walked hastily away, and the two who were left looked at each other, half sad, half smiling, for the words went home with a meaning deeper than any which the speaker had intended to convey.

"Be careful. It won't rub out," repeated Hilliard slowly. "That's a good motto for the New Year. I don't know that one could have a better.

I shall remember that, and the scroll all white and unmarked. I wonder what will be written there before the year is done?"

"A great deal, I hope--a great many happenings. I am tired of jogging along in the same old way. I would like a sensational headline in big print, and that as soon as possible!" cried Esmeralda recklessly.

Poor Esmeralda! The day was near at hand when she recalled her words, and winced at the remembrance in sorrow and misery.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE LAST RUN.

"Me dear," said Bridgie to Mademoiselle, the next morning, showing all her dimples at once in the most mischievous of smiles, "what do you think Mr Hilliard said to me last night before he left? He has made arrangements to stay a few days later to have another ride with the hounds. He believed it would be a very good meet on Thursday, and how wonderfully my sister did ride, to be sure. It's my belief he started with the intention of asking me to let Esmeralda go in my place, but I looked so innocent at him that he hadn't the heart. 'Indeed,' I said, 'she did so, and I feared he would think I made but a poor show in comparison.' Wasn't it cruel of me now, and the poor thing looking at me speechless, with those lovely, humbugging eyes! I had to turn away and laugh in a corner, but I wouldn't relent, for, says I to myself, if I have to give up my run, I'll get some fun another way--and it is amusing, isn't it now, when a man shows you so plainly that he doesn't want you?"

"Indeed that is a form of humour I do not understand!" returned Mademoiselle, with her nose in the air. "But you will give way, of course--that goes without saying--and let Esmeralda go once again. You will not stand out to the end!"

"How could I? Suppose it was myself, and--someone I told you about.

How should I feel if I had the chance of seeing him, and she would not allow me? I believe they are really beginning to care for each other, and he is a nice man. I should like him well enough."

"A week ago you were alarmed at the thought! I confess he makes on me a pleasant impression, but surely you know very little about him, and it is rather rash to accept him at once as a possible suitor. What do you know beyond that he is handsome, and appears amiable and kind?"

"His uncle was one of the Hilliards of Nanabeg. My father knew him well, and he was a fine, old-fas.h.i.+oned gentleman. That was what made this Mr Geoffrey come here for the hunting. He had heard his uncle speak of Bally William, and the Trelawneys take paying guests for the hunting season, so he arranged to come to them. He is not very well off, I'm afraid, for Joan tells me that he has to make his money out of glue, poor creature! But he must be nice, if he is the old squire's nephew."

Mademoiselle's eyes rolled upward with an eloquent glance. It was a new article of faith that a nephew must needs be exemplary because his uncle had been a popular country squire, but she held her peace and amused herself by watching the play which went on between the two sisters during the next twenty-four hours. Esmeralda was plainly anxious and ill at ease, and made tentative allusions to the coming meet, which Bridgie received with bland obtuseness. She had not the courage to make her request in so many words, but instead brought forward a succession of gloomy prophecies calculated to dampen expectation in the mind of any but the most enthusiastic rider.

"It will be a heavy run to-morrow," she said, shaking her head dismally as she glanced out of the window on the quickly melting snow. "I wouldn't wonder if it poured with rain! It's a fine draggled set the women will look before they get home."

"I prefer the ground soft, and as for suns.h.i.+ne, it's a thing I detest,-- dazzling your eyes, and the poor mare's into the bargain. Dull weather and a cloudy sky is what I hope to see, and for once it looks as if I should get my wish."

"Well, it's good weather you need, to get safely over that country. Mr O'Brien was saying only last season that it was the worst we had. There are some nasty bits of water this side of Roskillie, and they will be swollen with all this snow. Now next week over at Aughrin it really will be pleasant and comfortable."

"I'm so glad, darling! I hope you will enjoy it!" Bridgie put her head on one side, with a smile of angelic sweetness. Then, as Esmeralda flounced from the room in disgust, turned back to Mademoiselle, laughingly penitent.

"Isn't it wicked of me now, but I do enjoy it! She must care very much to be so shy about asking, for in an ordinary way she would have blurted it out long ago. Well, I shall just wait until to-morrow, and then I'll say I am--" she paused to laugh over the word--"indisposed!"

There is many a true word spoken in jest, and Bridgie was reminded of the proverb when the next morning arrived, and her inclination for hunting or any other amus.e.m.e.nt died a sudden death through an incident which happened at the breakfast-table. The Major was the only one of the party who received a letter, and when he had perused it he gave an exclamation of dismay, and leant back in his chair with an expression of bewilderment. "It can't be! It isn't possible!" he muttered to himself, and when Bridgie inquired the reason of his distress, he threw the letter across the table with an impatient movement.

"That wretched bank! They say I have overdrawn. It's impossible,-- there was a decent balance only a few months back! They have made some mistake. I am positive it is a mistake."

He left the room as he spoke, for breakfast had come to an end at last, after the usual long-drawn-out proceedings, and he had waited until he had finished his meal before opening the uninteresting looking envelope, and only Bridgie was left, sitting patiently behind the urn, with Mademoiselle to keep her company. She also rose as if to go, feeling that she might be _de trop_ under the circ.u.mstances, but Bridgie raised a pale face, and said flatly--

"Don't run away, Therese, I'd rather you stayed! I knew it must come some day. It's only a little sooner than I expected."

"But, _ma cherie_--don't look like that, Bridgie dear! Your father says there is a mistake. He seemed surprised like yourself. If, as he says, the bank is mistaken--"

But at this Bridgie shook her head with doleful conviction.

"The bank is never wrong! Oh, I've been through this before, and every time father declares it's a mistake, but it never is! I've been disappointed so often that I can't hope any more. Poor dear father seems to have no idea how quickly money goes, and he is so extravagant with his horses. He bought a new hunter this autumn, and made alterations in the stables. I have tried to be careful, but, as I said before, it is so little I can do! Well, this is the last stage but one.

There are a few more shares that can be sold to keep us going for a little longer, and then out we go. Poor father, he won't be able to carry out his programme at this rate. Esmeralda's duke has not come forward, and neither has my millionaire. When we leave the Castle we shall have to squeeze into a cottage, and live on potatoes and b.u.t.termilk. I am glad I am not going to the meet. I should have been wretched all the time, but Joan need not know until she comes back."

Bridgie's pale cheeks seemed sufficient explanation of her determination to stay at home, and Esmeralda was sweetly sympathetic and concerned, but quite decided that exertion must at all costs be avoided.

"Me dear, you must not think of going! It would be madness. I'll keep father company, so don't you worry a bit, but just lie down and take it easy the whole day long," she cried gus.h.i.+ngly; and Bridgie smiled, despite her heartache, and felt comforted by the reflection that two people would owe their happiness to her absence.

The Major looked very handsome in his "pink" coat, but his brow was clouded, and he sighed profoundly as he came into the dining-room to light his cigar, and saw his eldest daughter standing disconsolately by the window.

"So you are not coming after all, Bride? Letting Joan take your place?

Well, everyone to his taste. I feel as if it would do me good to have a hard run and let off steam that way. I'll show them some riding to-day, if they have never seen it before. There won't be much that will stand in my way, but you prefer to stay at home and eat your heart out in quiet. Your mother was the same; she couldn't throw it off. It's a pity for your own sake you don't take after me instead." Then suddenly, as he looked at her, his face altered, and he put his arms round her with a rare tenderness. "Poor little woman! Poor little anxious Martha, this is rough on you! I've brought about this ill day by my thoughtlessness. If I'd been as careful as you, we might have lasted out until the children were grown up, but I was like Micawber--always expecting something to 'turn up.' You must try to forgive me, Bride.

You must not be hard on your old father!"

Ah, and it was a lovely sight to see Bridget O'Shaughnessy's face at that moment--the sweetness of it, and the pity and tenderness, and the deep, unselfish love! Her father was touched by the sight, and lingered by her side, stroking her soft hair and murmuring fond, regretful words.

"I haven't treated you well. That minx Joan has twisted me round her finger, and you have suffered for it. You have had a hard time these last two years. Never mind, we'll make a fresh start. I'll turn over a new leaf from this day, and you shall take me in hand. Who knows but we may pull through yet?"

He went off waving his hand in adieu, and Bridgie stood watching the two riders until they disappeared from sight, and repeating his loving words with fond appreciation. Hard time! Who had had a hard time? She was a fortunate girl to have had so much love and kindness, to possess such a dear, gallant, handsome father. What if they had to leave the Castle?

Happiness did not depend upon the walls by which they were surrounded.

So long as they were all together, they might laugh at poverty!

Meanwhile Esmeralda and her father were gently trotting along towards the park at Roskillie, from whence, in hunting parlance, they were to proceed to "draw Long Gorse," and on their way were enjoying the picturesque surroundings of a meet in the country. Along every high road, footpath, and byroad came horses and riders of various sorts and sizes, walking or jogging along towards the central point. Schoolboys were coming on ponies to see the start, farmers on clever nags; neatly dressed grooms riding, or leading horses conspicuous for shape and beauty. Down the cross-road approached the hounds themselves, headed by their whipper-in and surrounding the picturesque figure of the huntsman.

They took up their position in the park, and presently from every point of the compa.s.s the scarlet coats came trotting forward, followed by a string of drags, dogcarts, and gigs. The Major and his daughter came in for greetings on every side, for they were among old friends, and the girl's beauty and daring had made her popular with all. There were other ladies present, but they looked colourless and insignificant beside the glowing young Amazon, and she was quite conscious of the fact, and of the becoming correctness of the new habit. While yet twenty yards distant her quick eye had distinguished Geoffrey Hilliard, but she affected not to see him until he rode up to her side, his face aglow with pleasure.

"You managed it, then? You managed to get here?"

"My sister is not feeling very well. She begged to be excused," replied Esmeralda demurely, and Hilliard laughed and muttered something about "blessed Saint Bridget," which on the whole she thought it wiser not to hear. When the signal was given to move on, he kept beside her as the hors.e.m.e.n proceeded to cross several gra.s.sy fields; and, contrary to his usual custom, her father lagged behind, as though relieved to leave her to the care of another. Esmeralda turned lightly in her saddle, saw him riding at the farther end of the long line, and looked wonderingly at her companion.