"Why, you are grown-up, and ever so much older than I am. I was nine last week, you know, but of course you are a girl—a lady, I mean—and you couldn't go by yourself, could you?"
"Not very well, Ralph; but I think somebody might be found to take care of me," replied Kathleen. "Only I must not ride for all that."
"I see," said Ralph, gravely. "You have no father like I have. Father has taken such care of me, and shown me how to ride so well, that now I'm not a bit afraid. I could almost take care of you. Anyway, father would, I'm certain, for he says I want scarcely any looking after. You would look after Miss Mountford, would you not?" said Ralph, turning his bright eyes from Kathleen's face to his father's. Then he added, "Wouldn't it be just lovely for us three to go together?"
"Quite too lovely," replied the captain, as he gave his boy's curly head a pat. "Bravo, Ralph! You know how to contrive matters. I should be glad indeed if I were privileged to take care of Miss Mountford. I hope she knows that I would shield her from harm at the cost of my life."
The speaker did not look at the boy, but at Kathleen, as he answered the questions. The last sentence reached her ears only, and her face was all aglow in an instant, for the captain's look was more eloquent than were his words.
It was well that at this instant the huntsman's horn gave the signal for starting. Ralph was far too eager to disobey it, and, with a farewell salute to Kathleen and a laughing glance at the high-spirited lad who was already in advance of him, the captain joined the gay cavalcade on the way to Helmer Wood.
Kathleen bent from the carriage window, and watched until the gay procession was lost in the wood-then the order was given to Mountain to turn his horses homeward.
Kathleen lay back in the carriage seemingly lost in thought. The sky might keep its blue or become cloudy, the sun might shine, and leaf and berry glow with bravest colouring, but all were lost upon her now. Still, her thoughts must have been pleasant ones, for now and then a smile flitted across her face, and it kept the colour summoned to it by the questions of Ralph and the responses of his father.
Mrs. Ellicott was thoroughly annoyed. She strongly disliked Captain Torrance, or rather the character of the man, and she was not a little afraid of him. Who could look at his handsome face and perfect turn-out, and hear his well-turned compliments, without dreading the effect of them on a girl like Kathleen?
It was said of the captain that he gave way to outbursts of passion, and that he was overbearing and tyrannical to a degree, where servants and dependants were concerned. That to such his speech was coarse, and often profane. That the boy, so like him in person, resembled him also in his faults, and that both were on the high-road to ruin.
These things were, however, all matters of hearsay to Mrs. Ellicott, for in the company of ladies who so courtly as Captain Jack? Who so gentle in speech, winning in manner, delicate and apt in paying compliments and doing honour to the sex as he? So, whilst the young admired and listened with pleased faces and heightened colour, prudent mothers hovered round their daughters whenever the captain approached them.
During the few minutes that he held converse with Kathleen at the carriage window, Mrs. Ellicott had shown as plainly as possible that his presence was anything but agreeable to herself. A stiff inclination of the head in response to his low bow, as brief replies as were consistent with civility to his inquiries after her health, and a reserve and stiffness of manner very much unlike Mrs. Ellicott, marked her reception of Captain Torrance.
These indications of the elder lady's feelings only amused Captain Jack, and again he asked himself, "What care I whether the aunt frowns or not, so long as Kathleen smiles, and a little compliment from my lips can bring that lovely colour to her cheeks? She is pretty enough and sweet enough for a man to give his heart to, quite irrespective of her more substantial attractions," mused the captain. "If I were a rich man, instead of being worse than poor, in debt, I should delight to lay my fortune at her feet. Knowing this, I have less compunction about taking hers, if I can get it, along with her sweet self. How like her mother she is! Fair, and with the same lovely Irish eyes that poor Mrs. Mountford had. I could never name the colour, and sometimes I thought they were deep grey, at others violet, but both mother's and daughter's were of the tint that I never saw except in an Irish girl's head. They remind one, by their liquid brightness, of the glorious nights we see now and then, when the stars seem as if they were fairly trembling and quivering with light. My Adela was handsomer than most fair women, but she was not to name beside Kathleen Mountford."
"I wish Ralph were like his mother, instead of being such a ridiculous image of me. I do not want the boy to grow up another Captain Jack, and sometimes I think, if his face were a reflection of Adela's, it would help me to be a better man, by reminding me of all she was to me. I love the boy even more for his mother's sake than for his own." No one could doubt the captain's affection for his son, however much opinion might be divided as to his manner of showing it. The redeeming trait in his past life had been his unswerving devotion to his wife, during the few years they spent together. He might well love her when living, and reverence her memory when dead.
She had given him her whole heart, when men and women were looking coldly upon him. She had refused to listen when friends would have told her hard truths and whispered words of warning. She had repaired his damaged fortune by the gift of her own, and thought nothing too good to bestow upon him.
Captain Torrance might spend his wife's money as recklessly as he chose; if only he were the happier for doing it, she never complained. Her single regret was, that she had no more to give. It was perhaps well for Mrs. Torrance that she did not live long enough to become fully acquainted with the darker, more selfish sides of her husband's character. These would have shown themselves, had money failed during their short married life. There was no scarcity of cash, no call for self-denial on the captain's part, so he remained an ideal husband in the eyes of Mrs. Torrance, and he really loved her as deeply as his nature permitted.
Her last look was for him. Her last words were, "I only care about dying because I have to leave you, Jack, and our child." Her last act had been to place unreservedly in his hands the small portion of her fortune which up to then she had held in her own right.
"You shall have it to the last penny, dear," she had said. "There are only you and Ralph. No fear of your failing to care well for him."
And so he did and had done, according to his idea of caring, during the years that had passed since the death of his wife.
CHAPTER III A HEAVY PENALTY
CAPTAIN TORRANCE made no mistake when he spoke of the great beauty of Kathleen Mountford's mother, and of its reproduction in the girl herself.
Mrs. Mountford was under twenty when she became a wife. She was a poor, but well-born Irish girl, named Kathleen Dillon, whom Mr. Mountford met when he was past forty, and regarded by all his friends as a confirmed bachelor. After a very short acquaintance the two were married, and he proved a most devoted and indulgent husband to the young wife who was less than half his own age.
Mrs. Mountford was proud of her conquest, and truly loved her husband, but she was of an impetuous and somewhat wilful disposition. She would often take advantage of Mr. Mountford's almost unlimited indulgence, and liked to show that she had only to ask and to have, or to have without the asking, whatever she set her mind upon, whether wisely or otherwise. In time, however, Mr. Mountford realised that he might be more truly kind in refusing than in granting some of his wife's demands, and that her real happiness would be best furthered by the exercise of his own sober judgment. Then followed a sort of struggle for mastery. Mrs. Mountford had been so long used to follow the bent of her own will, that she chafed under the slightest opposition. Sometimes, when her silence led Mr. Mountford to think that she agreed with him, she would take the first opportunity of setting his orders at defiance. If he showed displeasure, she would try him sorely by keeping out of his sight, or when in it, answering only by monosyllables and resolutely declining to share in anything he might propose.
Probably Mrs. Mountford punished herself quite as much as she did her husband. For, with her lively disposition and impetuosity of temper, such a state of things was no light trial. A few hours of it, and her lovely face would look like that of a troubled child. Her eyes would fill with tears, her lips would tremble, and she would look at her husband with an expression half penitent, half reproachful, as if mutely asking—
"How can you be so cruel, and treat my little faults so seriously? I am only a child compared with one who is so wise as you."
One pleading pitiful look from those wonderful eyes, and Mr. Mountford was certain to yield unconditionally. His arms would be extended, the young wife would fly to them, and as he clasped her to his breast she would sob out complaints of his unkindness.
"You know I never want to vex you, Kenneth," she would say. "But I am just a spoiled child, and you have helped to make me worse. You will have to be ever so patient with me, and you know you ought to be, because you are older, and so very wise. When you were so cross and looked grave, I felt perfectly crushed. Oh, Kenneth, how could you be so hard?"
Mr. Mountford might conscientiously feel that he had been anything but cross or harsh, considering that his wife had deliberately disobeyed commands which were wholly for her own good. He might be certain that he was the injured party, that he ought to insist on obedience to his will, especially when it involved no privation worth the name. But his intense love for his wife made him as wax in her hands, and while conscious that he had right on his side, he was full of remorse at the thought of having pained a creature so loving and beautiful, and so like a child in her wilfulness.
After such an outbreak there would be peace for a time. Home would be a little heaven, blessed too, at length, with music of a kind unknown in paradise, that of a baby voice.
The birth of Kathleen, which did not take place until three years after her parents' marriage, brought added sunshine to the home. Mr. Mountford had hoped for a son, but was more than satisfied with the baby daughter whose face was a reflection of her mother's. Husband and wife were more devoted to each other than ever, and during Kathleen's early days Mrs. Mountford was willing to live more quietly, and gave herself up without regret to the new sweet cares her child had brought her. But when the little one was three, and there was no further addition to her family, Mrs. Mountford began to resume her old life, and longed for pleasures outside the sphere of home. Not that she wearied of her little one, but her watchfulness over Kathleen only occupied a small portion of her time, and she was incapable, owing to differences in tastes and education, of entering into many of her husband's pursuits.
Mr. Mountford was doubly indulgent, on account of the difference in age between himself and his wife. He was older than his years, she younger than hers, and he felt it alike a privilege and a duty to give her every lawful pleasure natural to her youth, without considering himself in any way.
Mrs. Mountford was a graceful, but somewhat daring rider, and her husband had delighted to mount her in fitting fashion. The horse she had ridden for a couple of years met with an accident, became lame, and was condemned as unfit for her further use. A new one was bought, and she was full of admiration at its appearance, and eager to try if its other qualities equalled its looks.
"I shall try the new horse to-morrow morning, Kenneth," she said. "He is rightly named Prince, for he is a magnificent animal. How good you are to replace poor Rajah with such another royal quadruped! You must have been sadly extravagant though, for I am sure only a high price can have bought him."
Mrs. Mountford had risen from her seat, and was about to rush towards her husband in her usual impulsive fashion, and pay him for his gift by a shower of kisses. But a word stopped her on the way.
"Never mind the price, darling. If Prince suits you, he will be well worth all I have paid for him. But you must not ride him for a day or two. His temper must be well tested before I trust my treasure on his back."
A shade of annoyance passed over Mrs. Mountford's face, and she answered quickly, "Who so fit to test the horse's temper as myself? You say he has been used to carrying a lady."
"They say so from whom I bought him, dear; but horse-dealers have been known to conceal a fault which was not to be found out except on closer acquaintance. If you were less precious to me, I should be less careful of your safety, perhaps. Nay, I will not say that. I trust I should be incapable of exposing any human being to risk of life. I would rather peril my own."
"But, Kenneth, you know how I can ride. When I was a mere child, my father would let me mount any horse he had, no matter what its temper, and say, 'If Kitty cannot ride him, no one can.' I am not afraid either of Prince or for myself."
"But I am afraid for you, my darling. Think now, if anything went wrong for want of precaution on my part, what would become of our child and me? The light of my life would be extinguished."
Mr. Mountford looked at his wife with a world of honest love in his eyes, but his voice trembled at the bare thought of such a misfortune as his words suggested.
"No fear, Kenneth. I can manage the horse well enough, and I mean to try."
She answered with a glance of defiance, in no way moved by the tender words, because they clashed with the indulgence of her own whim.
"You shall try, dear, as soon as I am satisfied that you can do so with safety. And now come, darling, and pay me in your own sweet way for your new steed."
Mrs. Mountford, however, hung back, and with a little impatient toss of her head replied, "You know the old saying, Kenneth, 'There are only two bad paymasters, those who pay in advance, and those who never pay at all.' You must wait until Prince is mine, before you ask for his price from me."
"I do not know how he can be more yours, seeing that I have paid for him."
