Gladys, the Reaper Part 59

Beyond the gratification of the moment, he is totally indifferent to all the consequences of his powers. He is not a bad man, he would not do anything that the world--his world, at least--would consider dishonourable; but as to reflecting upon the cruelty of inflicting wounds, never to be healed, upon the hearts of young ladies--why, he would as soon reflect upon the wounds he gave an enemy in the battle-field. He considers Cupid as fair game as Mars, and thinks that if women will be weak, and if he is irresistible, it is no fault of his, but rather their and his misfortune.

Young ladies! the vulgar saying that a woman should never give her heart to a man until she is asked for it, is, like many vulgar sayings, a good one. Colonel Vaughan is the type of a cla.s.s amongst which all are liable to be thrown; and although men of his talent, knowledge of the world, and apparent sincerity are rare, you may each of you meet with one such.

If you do, beware of falling in love with him until he plainly tells you that he is in love with you, and asks if you are willing to marry him.

Colonel Vaughan leaves the drawing-room in search of Mr Gwynne, humming a little Scotch air, the _refrain_ of which is 'and troth I'll wed ye a,' a thing he has often wished he could actually do.

He finds Mr Gwynne in his library, and reminds him of the promised ride.

The horses are ordered, and they are soon trotting down the drive. As if by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and river.

The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals with great glee. As Lady Mary is not at all certain that Colonel Vaughan's attentions are not exclusively meant for her, she divides her civilities with a charming tact between the two gentlemen, and looks so captivating whilst she does so, that the colonel wishes that her statue-like daughter had a little of her animation.

Everything that art and taste can devise is collected to adorn the ladies and their abode, and if nature is lacking within doors, she is profuse in her gifts without.

There is nothing worth recording in the conversation; if Colonel Vaughan had thought it over afterwards, he would probably have laughed at the plat.i.tudes he had uttered, and wondered why people paid morning visits.

The coming of age was a grand topic, and the colonel promised to go again the following day, and 'help in the decorations.'

When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr Gwynne proposed a ride through his plantations, which he was improving and enlarging. They went accordingly. On their way they stopped at a small farm to inquire for one of Mr Gwynne's tenants, who was dangerously ill. Mr Gwynne dismounted, and as he entered the house, Gladys came out; she curtseyed as she pa.s.sed Colonel Vaughan, who said,--

'How is the invalid, Gladys? I take it for granted you have been to see him.'

'Yes, sir, Miss Gwynne sent me with some jelly. He is better, I hope?'

'And are you going home now?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Stay one moment; will you give the poor man this half-crown when you see him again?'

Gladys approached, and took the half-crown, but with it there was half-a-sovereign.

'The rest is for yourself, to do what you like with,' added the colonel, in a low voice.

'Thank you, sir, but I never take money,' said Gladys, leaving the gold in his hand, 'I do not need it.'

'Give it to the poor, then,' said the colonel, letting it drop, and looking annoyed.

'Certainly, sir, if you wish it; I will tell Miss Gwynne, and she will know to whom to give it.'

'By no means--I mean it for you.'

'Sir, you will excuse me, I would rather not,' said Gladys, curtseying again, and hastening on.

Colonel Vaughan called to a boy who was near, and told him to pick up the money and give it to him.

'How often does that young lady come here?' he asked.

'Almost every day, sir,' was the reply.

'At what time?'

'In the afternoon, sir, from three to five, or thereabouts.'

'Goes back in time to help Miss Gwynne dress for dinner,' thought the colonel; 'what a lovely face it is! And what grace of movement.'

He watched Gladys cross the farm-yard, and disappear in the plantations, through which there was a private path to the house.

Mr Gwynne and he pa.s.sed her again as they rode on, and she curtseyed once more, Mr Gwynne nodding to her kindly as she looked at him.

'Who _is_ that girl, Mr Gwynne?'

'Oh! my daughter's maid, I believe. A very pretty, modest young woman, and all that sort of thing. Freda is very fond of her.'

They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre. He punished her by playing chess with her father nearly all the evening, and leaving her to a variety of reflections that were anything but satisfactory to her.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE TEMPTER.

'I particularly wish you to go, Gladys, and there will be plenty of time. He was worse when I saw him yesterday, and I promised to send you to-day to read to him, and take him some wine. I shall not want you till five, and my dress is quite ready. They dine at half-past six, and the evening party are invited for nine, I believe.'

This was said by Miss Gwynne to Gladys, at about half-past two o'clock, on the day of Miss Nugent's festivities.

'Very well, ma'am,' said Gladys, 'I will make as much haste as possible.'

'Do you know where Colonel Vaughan is, Gladys?' asked Miss Gwynne.

'I heard some one say, ma'am, that he and Mr Gwynne had walked to Pentre, to see the dinner on the lawn.'

'Oh! By the way, would you have liked to have gone to see these said diversions? If so, I can send some one else with the wine.'

'Oh no, thank you, ma'am. I would much rather walk to see poor Lloyd.'

'Then you had better make haste.'

Gladys was soon on her way, through the wood, to the farm mentioned in the last chapter. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk on that lovely July day, and thought she had never heard the birds sing so sweetly before.

In truth, Gladys had not been so happy since her sorrows as she was now.

She felt independent, and placed in a position where she knew her exact duties. She devoted herself and her time wholly to Miss Gwynne, and was repaid, not only by regular wages, but by kindness, and even affection from her mistress.

There was increased colour on her cheek, brightness in her eyes, mirth in her smile, elasticity in her step, and life in her whole being as she entered the cottage whither she was sent.

She found her patient better, and having given him some wine, read to him, and helped his wife to make his bed. She was preparing to leave the farm, when Owen made his appearance. He came, ostensibly to see the sick man, but prefaced his visit to him by shaking hands with Gladys, and talking to her.