《A Wilful Ward》
作者：rvth lamb
内容简介：
MY dear Kathleen, do try and be reasonable. ...
CHAPTER I GOING TO THE MEET
"MY dear Kathleen, do try and be reasonable. To hear your grumbling, any one might think the rain had been sent on purpose to disappoint you of your ride. Remember, child. This is the fourth of November, not midsummer, and the rain is seasonable."
"It may be seasonable, but it is just as disagreeable and disappointing as if it were not. I do not need to be reminded that this is the fourth of November, for everybody has been dinning the date into my ears for a fortnight past. I have not exchanged words with a single creature without being reminded that this day's meet at Hollingsby will be the finest sight of the kind that Woldshire has witnessed since the old earl died."
"The first meet of the season is always a fine spectacle, my dear."
"Yes, aunt, but this will be a record meet. The young earl has just come of age, and everybody is bent on making it a gathering to be remembered for generations to come. It is to stand first in the annals of the Hollingsby Hunt."
"I dare say you are right, Kathleen. All the gentry will be at the breakfast; the large tenants will be guests, and all the smaller fry will put the best foot foremost. Men and horses will make a brave show, in spite of these drenching showers which keep coming down to spoil the turn-out. However, I for one do not envy them what they are pleased to call 'sport.' I cannot forget the foxes' side of the question."
"As if foxes were of any use," replied Kathleen, with a curl of her pretty lip.
"In a way, they do not seem to be, but I never like to assume that about any living thing. I cannot imagine that any creature, however humble its place in nature, however repulsive it may seem to some of us, was made without being destined to fill some useful niche in the great Creator's plan. I do not pretend to know all about these things. But if one grasps, in ever so little a way, the idea how great and good and kind God is, and how His wisdom is shown in every work of His hands, one may believe that the meanest of all has its use."
"Of course the fox is useful for hunting, and is, in a way, the cause of to-day's meet," replied Kathleen.
"Ah, my dear, I am thankful that I at least have no taste for such barbarous practices. To destroy a wild animal that is harmful to man and to useful creatures, is surely right. But to preserve foxes on purpose to be hunted by a pack of yelling hounds, and then cut to pieces alive, is a sport worthy only of savages. I am afraid I was glad when, once last season, the suffering fox bit the cruel hand that was torturing it, and that Huntsman Tom was unable to torment another for some time to come."
"Aunty, you do take an extreme view. To talk about those beautiful creatures as 'yelling hounds!'"
"What else are they, Kathleen? Not that I blame them, they are trained to the work, and squires and ladies fair enjoy the sport to which horse, hound, and wretched fox contribute. You may smile, Kathleen, but I know that look of contempt is only for your old aunt's old-fashioned ideas, not for herself. But, however long I may live, I trust I shall never find pleasure in what causes suffering to the meanest of God's creatures."
Kathleen rushed impulsively towards her aunt, threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her again and again.
"You old darling!" she exclaimed; "of course the smile was at your ideas about fox-hunting. I should be the most ungrateful creature living if I could be capable of feeling anything but love and reverence for your dear self. Yes, I have pushed your cap nearly off your head by rushing at you and hugging you, after the manner of a bear. But never mind. I will put you nicely to rights again. The cap was a wee bit on one side before. I always have to straighten it about six times a day."
Mrs. Ellicott looked up at the fair face which was bending over her, then drew it nearer still, and returned her niece's caress with more gentleness but no less affection than Kathleen had shown.
"And you, Kathleen," she said, "only make believe that you have any sympathy with those who follow a cruel custom. You like to see the gay turn-out, the gallant pack, the daring riders, the eager horses, and to note all the bonne camaraderie of the hunt. But there are other cruelties inseparable from this sport, and one instance out of many gave me a dislike to it which nothing can conquer. I shall never forget how I felt when I heard the tale, years before you were born, my dear."
"What was it, aunt?"
"It was about the late earl's sister. She was a most daring huntress, but professed to be very fond of her horses, one in particular, a beautiful creature that was gentleness itself, and was petted like a dog. In the excitement of the hunt, and when determined to be foremost at the death of the miserable fox, she urged on the beautiful animal by savage use of whip and spur, and compelled it to keep up a pace which no horse could continue for long. When Lady Lois drew rein at Hollingsby the animal reeled, and as her feet touched the ground he fell dead. A few seconds in dismounting, and she would have been crushed beneath her ill-used steed. She was just down in time to save her life."
"How horrible! if the tale be really true," said Kathleen, turned for the moment from contemplating her own special grievance.
"It is true, dear. There were eye-witnesses enough, and many would have cried shame on a humbler rider. There was enough said, though, as Lady Lois Holwynd was the culprit, people spoke with bated breath of her fault, and found excuses for it in a louder key."
"She was young. Such a daring rider, and the very life of the hunt. So generous in supporting it, so kind in many ways. Open-handed to a fault. Thus people excused her; but though Lady Lois has passed away, the memory of that day's cruelty abides, and will be talked of for many a year to come."
Whilst Mrs. Ellicott was speaking, Kathleen was busily engaged in replacing the refractory cap, and with gentle fingers pushing back stray locks of the silvery hair which framed so fittingly the kind face of her aunt.
"There now, you look a picture of tidiness. Kiss me for playing the part of a deft lady's-maid, and putting you to rights again."
The kiss was given, but Mrs. Ellicott bade Kathleen remember that it was not earned.
"My cap would have been all right but for your boisterous embrace, Kitty, and having upset its equilibrium, you were bound to restore it. However, darling, I shall never quarrel with you for being too affectionate," a remark which resulted in another caress of a gentler sort, and the application of Kathleen's hands to Mrs. Ellicott's head.
"Turn to the window, aunty, and look at the sunshine. It is positively pouring in. That last heavy shower has cleared the sky, and there are sheets of blue everywhere. All the labour I have bestowed on your cap will be thrown away now, for you cannot refuse to drive in the direction of Hollingsby. I do want to see all I can, though I must not ride, I suppose?"
"You know, Kathleen, that it was your dear father's wish that you should never take part in the Hollingsby Hunt, or even go to the meet on horseback."
"I know that, aunt. I have surely been told it often enough. Now you get ready for the drive. Let Cameron help you, and I will order the carriage. I can be ready in three minutes. I will try and rout Ger from her books, and make her come with us, or you might ask her on your way upstairs."
Mrs. Ellicott rose to comply with both requests. She felt that Kathleen must not be denied any reasonable pleasure, especially as the time was not far distant when she would be her own mistress.
"I will speak to Geraldine, but I doubt if she will join us," she said.
"You propose, and I will second vigorously," said Kathleen, "when I have interviewed old Mountain."
Away she tripped in the direction of the stables, being too impatient to send her message to the coachman, who was by no means old, and who worshipped his young mistress. She did not forget to take with her some bread and an apple, wherewith to regale her own favorite mare, Polly, whose head was at the bars the moment Kathleen's voice was heard addressing Mountain.
"Get the horses in as quickly as possible," said Kathleen. "We will drive towards Hollingsby, and see what we can. Don't I wish I might ride you, my beauty!" she added, turning to Polly and patting her arched neck with one hand, as she held out the other for the mare to feed from.
Polly gave a little assenting neigh, and then put her velvet lips forward to take the apple and bread—her special dainties.
"How gentle she is! A baby might feed her. Mountain, you do groom her beautifully. Her coat is perfect; black, and shining like a rook's plumage in the sunshine."
"She is a beauty, miss, and as good for go and temper as a lady's horse should be. But then there'll be as good 'uns as Polly out to-day, that'll come home with their sides bleeding and marked with lashes, in spite of them doing their best. And as to their coats, they'll be that muddy that you cannot tell the colour of 'em by more than half their bodies. The other half is just clay itself."
"I would not hurt you, Polly. Your mistress would not mark you with cruel spur or whip. But I must run, or aunt will be ready first. Take this last bit, my pet."
Pushing another piece of bread between Polly's willing lips, Kathleen raced back to the house, and ran panting to her room, where she quickly made ready for her drive.
Her cousin Geraldine was not to be coaxed to join in the drive, so Kathleen, after a brief hesitation, ran up another flight of stairs and stretched herself on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of a spot where three roads met. Most of the riders going to the meet would pass this point on their way to Hollingsby, and Kathleen, though she would not have owned it for the world, had placed herself at this coign of vantage in hope of seeing one of them.
She did see more than one scarlet-coated horseman in the distance, but without recognizing any. So she was quite sure that Captain Torrance was not amongst them. She could not mistake another for him, or him for another. Besides, he did not ride in scarlet. She had heard him say that, having once put it off, he would never wear it again.
Captain Torrance had worn a red coat until the colour had become monotonous, and he was no longer in the army, though everybody still gave him his old rank in speaking to or of him.
As Kathleen watched she was conscious that her face was all aflame with blushes. She was ashamed of her eagerness to see the most daring member of the Hunt, and one who was acknowledged to be the handsomest man in that division of the shire. There were, however, wise old heads which were shaken dubiously when Captain Torrance was named, and remarks were made about looks not being everything. There were some, too, who could tell tales about the captain's past career which were not altogether to his credit; but most of these were whispered, for he was not a man to be lightly made an enemy of. So such stories had never reached the innocent ears of Kathleen Mountford, who was watching with more anxiety than she owned to herself, for a glimpse of the handsome ex-captain of dragoons.
"It is a perfect riding-lesson just to see how he sits that beautiful hunter of his," she murmured, certain that no one was within hearing, even if she did utter her thoughts aloud. "But why need I trouble myself about riding-lessons? I know enough to guide Polly in such jog-trot excursions as I am allowed to make. I can never understand why my father imposed such restrictions on me. He was the dearest, kindest of parents, I know, and I am sure he meant to make me happy, if he could. But it is always the same. If a girl has money, some condition is attached to it which crosses her in one aggravating way or another. At one time she is bidden to marry a particular person whom she does not know, and if she did, would be sure to hate him. At another she is forbidden to marry the person whom she would choose from all the world. Or she must live in a place she detests, or—"
At this moment Mrs. Ellicott's voice was heard calling—
"Kitty, where have you hidden yourself? You who boasted that you only needed three minutes to dress in. I am ready, and Mountain is at the door. I wonder you did not hear the carriage wheels."
"Coming, aunty," cried Kathleen, as she raced downstairs two steps at a time. "Well, you have been expeditious. I was so certain that you would be at least five minutes longer, that I ran to the west window at the very top, to try and see what I could see. Result: a few streaks of scarlet at the crossing, as a few riders shot past on their way to Hollingsby. What a pity Geraldine will not leave her books to enjoy such a drive as we shall have! It will be just lovely, and you will like it as much as I shall. You cannot help it."
"I shall enjoy the drive, dear, of course, and Geraldine will find her pleasure after her own fashion, so do not trouble about her, Kitty. Who could have dreamed an hour ago that the country would look so beautiful?"
Mrs. Ellicott might well cast admiring glances at the hedgerows and the trees, on which autumn leaves still remained. Some were bare, but on others there was quite a wealth of gorgeous colouring, made all the more vivid by the lingering moisture which the recent rain had left. Hip, haw, and bryony berries were all ablaze in the bright sunshine, though differing in their shades of red. The tallest privet spikes were mostly crowned with cones of shining berries, intensely black, and perfect in shape. These seemed stretching above the other shrubs which made up the hedges, as if challenging competition with the more gaudy reds beneath.
Browns and yellows were not wanting on thorn and wild briar; and dusky reds and flame colour were on maple bush and bramble leaf, with more berries, shading from purple to black.
Green asserted its claims, as the glossy holly leaves shone out, draped with lace which the spiders had flung across them to soften their prickly stiffness. Draperies cunningly contrived to catch drops of rain for the sun to shine upon, and turn into liquid diamonds.
As to the ivy! It was everywhere. Creeping slyly in hedge bottoms, twisting fearlessly round bramble and briar, racing up the tallest tree, and waving its flower chaplets high out of reach, as if daring the boldest climber to rob it of its graceful coronets.
