Following with alacrity, Sabrina was soon again by the side of her
sister. But just then no further speech passed between them. Not that
both were silent. On the crest of the ridge, treeless and overgrown
with gorse, Hector had run foul of a donkey, and after a short chase was
holding it at bay. With his barks were mingled cries of encouragement
from his mistress, laughter, and patting of her hands, as she hounded
him on. Possibly had the Forester, Neddy's owner, come up at that
moment, he might not have shown the politeness for which Sabrina had
given his fellows credit. But the young lady meant no harm; nor much
the mastiff. If he had, there was little danger of his doing it; the
creature whose ancestry came from Mesopotamia being able to take care of
itself. The demonstrations of the dog--an overfed, good-natured brute--
looked as if being made either for his own amusement or that of his
young mistress; while the donkey, on the defence, with teeth, and heels,
seemed equally to enjoy the fun.
The elder sister, standing apart, had neither eyes nor ears for this bit
of hoydenish play. If a thought, it was the fear of giving offence to
the ass's owner, should that individual unluckily come along. As no one
came, however, she left Vaga to her vagaries, and stood intently gazing
upon the landscape spread before her.
A far and varied view she commanded from that elevated spot. First, a
deep, wide valley below, trending away to the right, with a tiny stream
trickling adown it, and a straggling village, the houses standing apart
along its banks--Drybrook. But not as the Drybrook of to-day, showing
tall brick chimneys--the monoliths of our own modern time--with their
plumes of grey black smoke; cinder-strewn roads running from one to the
other, and patches of bare pasture between. Then it was embowered,
almost buried, in trees; here and there only a spot of whitewashed walls
or a quaint lead window, seen through the thick foliage. Beyond village
and stream rose another ridge, with a gradual ascent up to the
"Wilderness"; and still farther off--so far as to be just visible--
stretched a wide expanse of low-lying champaign country, the valley of
the Severn, once the sound of a sea. As the young girl gazed upon it,
the sinking sun behind her back, with the Forest highlands beginning to
fling the shadows of twilight across the Severn's plain, and the white
mist that overhung it, she might well have imagined the waters of ocean
once more o'erflowing their ancient bed.
She neither imagined this nor thought of it; in fact saw not the fog,
nor gave so much as a second glance to that valley she had professed
herself so desirous of viewing. Instead, her eyes were fixedly bent
upon the face of the acclivity opposite--more particularly on a riband
of road that went winding up through woods from Drybrook to the
"Wilderness." And still with the same look of earnest interrogation.
What could it mean?
Vaga coming up, after having finished her affair with the donkey,
observed the look, and it called forth a fresh display of that
persiflage she so delighted in. Hitherto Sabrina had the best of it.
Her turn now, and she took advantage of it, saying,--
"Why, sister Sab, you seem to have forgotten all about what you came
here for! You're not looking at the Severn at all! Your glances are
directed too low for it. And as to the glorious sunset you spoke of,
that's going on behind you! Something on the road over yonder seems to
be the attraction; though I can see nothing but the road itself."
"Nor I," said Sabrina, a little confused, with just the slightest spot
of red again showing on her cheeks. Enough, though, to catch the eye of
her suspicious sister, who archly observed,--
"Rather strange, your gazing so earnestly at it, then?"
"Well, yes; I suppose it is."
"But not if you're expecting to see some one upon it."
Sabrina started, the red on her cheeks becoming more pronounced; but she
said nothing, since now her secret was discovered, or on the eve of
discovery. Vaga's next words left her no longer in doubt.
"Who is he, sister?" she asked with a sly look, and a laugh.
"Who is who?"
"He you expect to see come riding down yonder road. I take it he'll be
on horseback?"
"Vaga! you're a very inquisitive creature."
"Have I not some right, after being dragged all the way hither, when I
wanted to go home? If you called me a _hungry_ creature 'twould be
nearer the truth. Jesting apart, I am that--quite famished; so weak I
must seek support from a tree."
And with a mock stagger, she brought up against the trunk of a hawthorn
that grew near.
Sabrina could not resist laughing too, though still keeping her eyes on
the uphill road. It seemed as though she could not take her eyes off
it. But the other quickly recovering strength, and more naturally than
she had affected feebleness, once more returned to the attack, saying,--
"Sister mine; it's no use you're trying to hoodwink me. You forget that
by accident I saw a letter that lately came to Hollymead--at least its
superscription. Equally oblivious you appear to be, that the
handwriting of a certain gentleman is quite familiar to me, having seen
many other letters from the same to father. So, putting that and that
together, I've not the slightest doubt that the one of last week,
addressed to your sweet self, informed you that on a certain day, hour,
afternoon, Sir Richard Walwyn would enter the Forest of Dean by the
Drybrook Road on his way to--"
"Vaga, you're a very demon!"
"Which means I've read your secret aright. So you may as well make
confession of it."
"I won't; and just to punish you for prying. Curiosity ungratified will
be to you very torture, as I know."
"Oh, well! keep it close; it don't signify a bit. One has little care
to be told what one knows without telling. If Sir Richard should come
to Hollymead, why then six and six make a dozen, don't they?"
Sabrina turned a half-reproachful look on her tormentor, but without
making reply.
"You needn't answer," the other went on. "_My_ arithmetic's right, and
the problem's solved, or will be, by the gentleman spoken of making his
appearance any time this day, or--Why, bless me! Yonder he is now, I do
believe."
The exclamatory phrase had reference to a horseman seen riding down the
road so narrowly watched; though the speaker was not the first to see
him. He had been already sighted by Sabrina, and it was the flash of
excitement in her eyes that guided those of her sister.
The horseman had not all the road to himself; another coming on behind,
but at such short distance as to tell of companionship--that of master
and servant. He ahead was undoubtedly a gentleman, as evinced by the
bright colour of his dress, with its silken gloss under the sunlight,
and the glitter of arms and accoutrements; while the more
soberly-attired rider in the rear was evidently a groom or body servant.
As the girls stood regarding, the look in the eyes of the elder, at
first satisfied and joyous, began gradually to change. The distance was
too great for the identification of either face or figure. All that
could be distinguished was that they were men on horseback, with the
general hue of their habiliments, and the sparkle of arms and ornaments.
It was just these--their brightness and splendour--as affected the
foremost of the two, which had brought the change over Sabrina's
countenance. Sir Richard Walwyn was not wont to dress gaudily, but
rather the reverse. Still, time had elapsed since she last saw him. He
had been abroad, in the Low Countries, and with Gustavus of Sweden,
battling for the good cause. The foreign fashions may have changed his
ideas about dress and its adornments. But little cared she for that so
long as his heart was unchanged; and that it was so she knew by the
letter which had betrayed her own heart's secret to her sister.
Almost simultaneously upon Vaga's features appeared a change too--almost
expressing doubt. It became certainty on the instant after, still
another replacing it, as she again exclaimed, contradicting herself--
"Bless me, no! That's Reginald Trevor."