Wherein the black Prince arrives opportunely.
The yellow door, as the old woman had said, was not to be
mistaken. Again Ellen dismounted and knocked; then she heard a
slow step coming along the entry, and the pleasant, kind face
of Miss Janet appeared at the open door. It was a real
refreshment, and Ellen wanted one.
"Why, it's dear little ain't it? her that lives down to
Miss Fortune Emerson's? yes, it is; come in, dear; I'm
very glad to see you. How's all at your house?"
"Is the doctor at home, Ma'am?"
"No, dear, he ain't to home just this minute, but he'll be in
directly; Come in; is that your horse? just hitch him to
the post there, so he won't run away, and come right in. Who
did you come along with?"
"Nobody, Ma'am I came alone," said Ellen, while she obeyed
Miss Janet's directions.
"Alone! on that 'ere little skittish creeter? he's as
handsome as a picture, too why, do tell if you warn't
afraid? it a'most scares me to think of it."
"I was a little afraid," said Ellen, as she followed Miss
Janet along the entry "but I couldn't help that. You think
the doctor will soon be in, Ma'am?"
"Yes, dear, sure of it," said Miss Janet, kissing Ellen and
taking off her bonnet; "he won't be five minutes, for it's
a'most dinner time. What's the matter, dear? is Miss Fortune
sick again?"
"No, Ma'am," said Ellen, sadly, "Mr. Van Brunt has fallen
through the trap-door in the barn and broken his leg."
"Oh!" cried the old lady, with a face of real horror "you
don't tell me! Fell through the trap-door! and he ain't a
light weight neither; oh, that is a lamentable event! And
how is the poor old mother, dear?"
"She is very much troubled, Ma'am," said Ellen, crying at the
remembrance; "and he has been lying ever since early this
morning without anybody to set it; I have been going round and
round for a doctor this ever so long."
"Why, warn't there nobody to come but you, you poor lamb?"
said Miss Janet.
"No, Ma'am; nobody quick enough; and I had the Brownie there,
and so I came."
"Well, cheer up, dear! the doctor will be here now, and we'll
send him right off; he won't be long about his dinner, I'll
engage. Come and set in this big cheer do! it'll rest you;
I see you're a'most tired out, and it ain't a wonder. There
don't that feel better? now I'll give you a little sup of
dinner, for you won't want to swallow it at the rate Leander
will his'n. Dear! dear! to think of poor Mr. Van Brunt! He's
a likely man, too; I'm very sorry for him and his poor mother.
A kind body she is, as ever the sun shined upon."
"And so is he," said Ellen.
"Well, so I dare say," said Miss Janet; "but I don't know so
much about him; hows'ever, he's got everybody's good word as
far as I know; he's a likely man."
The little room in which Miss Janet had brought Ellen was very
plainly furnished indeed, but as neat as hands could make it.
The carpet was as crumbless and lintless as if meals were
never taken there, nor work seen; and yet a little table ready
set for dinner forbade the one conclusion, and a huge basket
of naperies in one corner showed that Miss Janet's industry
did not spend itself in housework alone. Before the fire stood
a pretty good-sized kettle, and a very appetizing smell came
from it to Ellen's nose. In spite of sorrow and anxiety, her
ride had made her hungry. It was not without pleasure that she
saw her kind hostess arm herself with a deep plate and a tin
dipper, and carefully taking off the pot cover, so that no
drops might fall on the hearth, proceed to ladle out a goodly
supply of what Ellen knew was that excellent country dish
called pot-pie. Excellent it is when well made, and that was
Miss Janet's. The pieces of crust were white and light like
new bread; the very tit-bits of the meat she culled out for
Ellen; and the soup-gravy, poured over all, would have met
even Miss Fortune's wishes, from its just degree of richness
and exact seasoning. Smoking hot, it was placed before Ellen,
on a little stand by her easy-chair, with some nice bread and
butter; and presently Miss Janet poured her out a cup of tea;
"for," she said, "Leander never could take his dinner without
it." Ellen's appetite needed no silver fork. Tea and pot-pie
were never better liked; yet Miss Janet's enjoyment was
perhaps greater still. She sat talking and looking at her
little visitor with secret but immense satisfaction.
"Have you heard what fine doings we're a going to have here
by-and-by?" said she. "The doctor's tired of me; he's going to
get a new housekeeper; he's going to get married some of these
days."
"Is he?" said Ellen. "Not to Jenny?"
"Yes, indeed he is to Jenny Jenny Hitchcock; and a nice
little wife she'll make him. You're a great friend of Jenny, I
know."
"How soon?" said Ellen.
"Oh, not just yet by-and-by after we get a little smarted
up, I guess; before a great while. Don't you think he'll be
a happy man?"
Ellen could not help wondering, as the doctor just then came
in and she looked up at his unfortunate three-cornered face,
whether Jenny would be a happy woman. But as people often do,
she only judged from the outside; Jenny had not made such a
bad choice after all.
The doctor said he would go directly to Mr. Van Brunt after he
had been over to Mrs. Sibnorth's; it wouldn't be a minute.
Ellen meant to ride back in his company; and having finished
her dinner, waited now only for him. But the one minute passed
two minutes ten twenty she waited impatiently, but he
came not.
"I'll tell you how it must be," said his sister, "he's gone
off without his dinner calculating to get it at Miss
Hitchcock's he'd be glad of the chance. That's how it is,
dear; and you'll have to ride home alone; I'm real sorry.
S'pose you stop till evening, and I'll make the doctor go
along with you. But, oh dear! maybe he wouldn't be able to
neither; he's got to go up to that tiresome Mrs. Robin's; it's
too bad. Well, take good care of yourself, darling; couldn't
you stop till it's cooler? well, come and see me as soon as
you can again, but don't come without some one else along!
Good-bye! I wish I could keep you."
She went to the door to see her mount, and smiled and nodded
her off.
Ellen was greatly refreshed with her rest and her dinner; it
grieved her that the Brownie had not fared as well. All the
refreshment that kind words and patting could give him, she
gave; promised him the freshest of water, and the sweetest of
hay, when he should reach home; and begged him to keep up his
spirits and hold on for a little longer. It may be doubted
whether the Brownie understood the full sense of her words,
but he probably knew what the kind tones and gentle hand
meant. He answered cheerfully; threw up his head and gave a
little neigh, as much as to say, _he_ wasn't going to mind a few
hours of sunshine; and trotted on as if he knew his face was
towards home which no doubt he did. Luckily it was not a
very hot day; for August, it was remarkably cool and
beautiful; indeed, there was little very hot weather ever
known in Thirlwall. Ellen's heart felt easier, now that her
business was done; and when she had left the town behind her,
and was again in the fields, she was less timid than she had
been before; she was going towards home; that makes a great
difference; and every step was bringing her nearer. "I am glad
I came, after all," she thought; "but I hope I shall never
have to do such a thing again. But I am glad I came."
She had no more than crossed the little bridge, however, when
she saw what brought her heart into her mouth. It was Mr.
Saunders, lolling under a tree. What could he have come there
for, at that time of day? A vague feeling crossed her mind,
that if she could only get past him she should pass a danger;
she thought to ride by without seeming to see him, and quietly
gave the Brownie a pat to make him go faster. But as she drew
near, Mr. Saunders rose up, came to the middle of the road,
and taking hold of her bridle, checked her pony's pace so that
he could walk alongside to Ellen's unspeakable dismay.
"What's kept you so long?" said he "I've been looking out
for you this great while. Had hard work to find the doctor?"
"Won't you please to let go of my horse," said Ellen, her
heart beating very fast "I am in a great hurry to get home
please don't keep me."
"Oh, I want to see you a little," said Mr. Saunders "you
ain't in such a hurry to get away from me as that comes to,
are you?"
Ellen was silent.
"It's quite a long time since I saw you last," said he "how
have the merinoes worn?"
Ellen could not bear to look at his face, and did not see the
expression which went with these words; yet she _felt_ it.
"They have worn very well," said she; "but I want to get home
very much _please_ let me go."
"Not yet, not yet," said he "oh no, not yet. I want to talk
to you; why, what are you in such a devil of a hurry for? I
came out on purpose; do you think I am going to have all my
long waiting for nothing?"
Ellen did not know what to say, her heart sprang with a
nameless pang to the thought, if she ever got free from this!
Meanwhile she was not free.
"Whose horse is that you're on?"
"Mine," said Ellen.
"Your'n! that's a likely story. I guess he ain't your'n, and
so you won't mind if I touch him up a little; I want to see
how well you can sit on a horse."
Passing his arm through the bridle as he said these words, Mr.
Saunders led the pony down to the side of the road where grew
a clump of high bushes, and, with some trouble, cut off a
long, stout sapling. Ellen looked in every direction while he
was doing this, despairing, as she looked, of aid from any
quarter of the broad, quiet, open country. Oh, for wings! But
she could not leave the Brownie if she had them.
Returning to the middle of the road, Mr. Saunders amused
himself, as they walked along, with stripping off all the
leaves and little twigs from his sapling, leaving it, when
done, a very good imitation of an ox-whip in size and length,
with a fine lash-like point. Ellen watched him in an ecstasy
of apprehension, afraid alike to speak or to be silent.
"There! what do you think of that?" said he, giving it two or
three switches in the air to try its suppleness and toughness;
"don't that look like a whip? Now we'll see how he'll go!"
"Please don't do anything with it," said Ellen, earnestly "I
never touch him with the whip he doesn't need it he isn't
used to it pray, pray do not!"
"Oh, we'll just tickle him a little with it," said Mr.
Saunders, coolly "I want to see how well you'll sit him
just make him caper a little bit."
He accordingly applied the switch lightly to the Brownie's
heels, enough to annoy, without hurting him. The Brownie
showed signs of uneasiness, quitted his quiet pace, and look
to little starts and springs, and whisking motions, most
unpleasing to his rider.
"Oh, do not!" cried Ellen, almost beside herself "he's very
spirited, and I don't know what he will do if you trouble
him."
"You let me take care of that," said Mr. Saunders; "if he
troubles me, I'll give it to him! If he rears up, only you
catch hold of his mane and hold on tight, and you won't fall
off; I want to see him rear."
"But you'll give him bad tricks!" said Ellen. "Oh, pray, don't
do so! It's very bad for him to be teased. I am afraid he will
kick if you do so, and he'd be ruined if he got a habit of
kicking. Oh, _please_ let us go!" said she, with the most acute
accent of entreaty "I want to be home."
"You keep quiet," said Mr. Saunders, coolly; "if he kicks,
I'll give him such a lathering as he never had yet; he won't
do it but once. I ain't agoing to hurt him, but I am agoing to
make him rear no, I won't I'll make him leap over a rail,
the first bar-place we come to that'll be prettier."
"Oh, you mustn't do that." said Ellen "I have not learned to
leap yet I couldn't keep on you musn't do that if you
please."
"You just hold fast, and hold your tongue. Catch hold of his
ears, and you'll stick on fast enough; if you can't, you may
get down, for I am going to make him take the leap, whether
you will or no."
Ellen feared still more to get off and leave the Brownie to
her tormentor's mercy, than to stay where she was, and take
her chance. She tried in vain, as well as she could, to soothe
her horse; the touches of the whip coming now in one place,
and now in another, and some of them pretty sharp, he began to
grow very frisky indeed; and she began to be very much
frightened, for fear she should suddenly be jerked off. With a
good deal of presence of mind, though wrought up to a terrible
pitch of excitement and fear, Ellen gave her best attention to
keeping her seat as the Brownie sprang, and started, and
jumped, to one side and the other; Mr. Saunders holding the
bridle as loose as possible, so as give him plenty of room.
For some little time he amused himself with this game, the
horse growing more and more irritated. At length a smart
stroke of the whip upon his haunches, made the Brownie spring
in a way that brought Ellen's heart into her mouth and almost
threw her off.
"Oh, don't!" cried Ellen, bursting into tears for the first
time she had with great effort commanded them back until
now; "poor Brownie! How can you! Oh, please let us go!
please let us go!"
For one minute she dropped her face in her hands.
"Be quiet!" said Mr. Saunders. "Here's a bar-place now for
the leap!"
Ellen wiped away her tears, forced back those that were
coming, and began the most earnest remonstrance and pleading
with Mr. Saunders that she knew how to make. He paid her no
sort of attention. He led the Brownie to the side of the road,
let down all the bars but the lower two, let go the bridle,
and stood a little off, prepared with his whip to force the
horse to take the spring.
"I tell you I shall fall," said Ellen, reining him back. "How
can you be so cruel! I want to go home!"
"Well, you ain't agoing home yet. Get off, if you are afraid."
But, though trembling in every nerve from head to foot, Ellen
fancied the Brownie was safer so long as he had her on his
back; she would not leave him. She pleaded her best, which Mr.
Saunders heard as if it was amusing, and without making any
answer, kept the horse capering in front of the bars,
pretending every minute he was going to whip him up to take
the leap. His object, however, was merely to gratify the
smallest of minds by teasing a child he had a spite against;
he had no intention to risk breaking her bones by a fall from
her horse; so in time he had enough of the bar-place; took the
bridle again, and walked on. Ellen drew breath a little more
freely.
"Did you hear how I handled your old gentleman after that
time?" said Mr. Saunders.
Ellen made no answer.
"No one ever affronts me that don't hear news of it
afterwards, and so he found to his cost. _I_ paid him off, to my
heart's content. I gave the old fellow a lesson to behave in
future. I forgive him now entirely. By the way, I've a little
account to settle with you didn't you ask Mr. Perriman this
morning if Dr. Gibson was in the house?"
"I don't know who it was," said Ellen.
"Well, hadn't I told you just before he warn't there?"
Ellen was silent.
"What did you do that for, eh? Didn't you believe me?"
Still she did not speak.
"I say!" said Mr. Saunders, touching the Brownie as he spoke
"did you think I told you a lie about it? eh?"
"I didn't know but he might be there," Ellen forced herself to
say.
"Then you didn't believe me?" said he, always with that same
smile upon his face; Ellen knew that.
"Now that warn't handsome of you and I'm agoing to punish
you for it, somehow or 'nother; but it ain't pretty to quarrel
with ladies, so Brownie and me'll settle it together. You
won't mind that, I dare say."
"What are you going to do?" said Ellen, as he once more drew
her down to the side of the fence.
"Get off and you'll see," said he, laughing "get off and
you'll see."
"What do you want to do?" repeated Ellen, though scarce able
to speak the words.
"I'm just going to tickle Brownie a little, to teach you to
believe honest folks when they speak the truth; get off!"
"No, I won't," said Ellen, throwing both arms round the neck
of her pony; "poor Brownie! you shan't do it. He hasn't
done any harm, nor I either; you are a bad man!"
"Get off!" repeated Mr. Saunders.
"I will not!" said Ellen, still clinging fast.
"Very well," said he, coolly "then I will take you off; it
don't make much difference. We'll go along a little further
till I find a nice stone for you to sit down upon. If you had
got off then, I wouldn't ha' done much to him, but I'll give
it to him now! If he hasn't been used to a whip he'll know
pretty well what it means by the time I have done with him;
and then you may go home as fast as you can."
It is very likely Mr. Saunders would have been as good, or as
bad, as his word. His behaviour to Ellen in the store at New
York, and the measures taken by the old gentleman who had
befriended her, had been the cause of his dismissal from the
employ of Messrs. St. Clair and Fleury. Two or three other
attempts to get into business had come to nothing, and he had
been obliged to return to his native town. Ever since, Ellen
and the old gentleman had lived in his memory as objects of
the deepest spite, the one for interfering, the other for
having been the innocent cause; and he no sooner saw her in
the post-office, than he promised himself revenge, such
revenge as only the meanest and most cowardly spirit could
have taken pleasure in. His best way of distressing Ellen, he
found, was through her horse; he had almost satisfied himself;
but very naturally his feeling of spite had grown stronger and
blunter with indulgence, and he meant to wind up with such a
treatment of her pony, real or seeming, as he knew would give
great pain to the pony's mistress. He was prevented.
As they went slowly along, Ellen still clasping the Brownie's
neck, and resolved to cling to him to the last, Mr. Saunders
making him caper in a way very uncomfortable to her, one was
too busy, and the other too deafened by fear, to notice the
sound of fast-approaching hoofs behind them. It happened that
John Humphreys had passed the night at Ventnor; and having an
errand to do for a friend at Thirlwall, had taken that road,
which led him but a few miles out of his way, and was now at
full speed on his way home. He had never made the Brownie's
acquaintance, and did not recognise Ellen as he came up; but
in passing them, some strange notion crossing his mind he
wheeled his horse round directly in front of the astonished
pair. Ellen quitted her pony's neck, and stretching out both
arms towards him, exclaimed, almost shrieked, "Oh, John! John!
send him away! make him let me go!"
"What are you about, Sir?" said the new-comer, sternly.
"It's none of your business!" answered Mr. Saunders, in whom
rage for the time overcame cowardice.
"Take your hand off the bridle!" with a slight touch of the
riding-whip upon the hand in question.
"Not for you, brother," said Mr. Saunders, sneeringly; "I'll
walk with any lady I've a mind to. Look out for yourself!"
"We will dispense with your further attendance," said John,
coolly. "Do you hear me? do as I order you!"
The speaker did not put himself in a passion, and Mr.
Saunders, accustomed for his own part to make bluster serve
instead of prowess, despised a command so calmly given. Ellen,
who knew the voice, and still better could read the eye, drew
conclusions very different. She was almost breathless with
terror. Saunders was enraged and mortified at an interference
that promised to baffle him; he was a stout young man, and
judged himself the stronger of the two, and took notice,
besides, that the stranger had nothing in his hand but a
slight riding-whip. He answered very insolently, and with an
oath; and John saw that he was taking the bridle in his left
hand and shifting his sapling whip so as to bring the club end
of it uppermost. The next instant he aimed a furious blow at
his adversary's horse. The quick eye and hand of the rider
disappointed that with a sudden swerve. In another moment
and Ellen hardly saw how, it was so quick John had
dismounted, taken Mr. Saunders by the collar, and hurled him
quite over into the gulley at the side of the road, where he
lay at full length without stirring.
"Ride on, Ellen!" said her deliverer.
She obeyed. He stayed a moment to say to his fallen adversary
a few words of pointed warning as to ever repeating his
offence; then remounted and spurred forward to join Ellen. All
her power of keeping up was gone, now that the necessity was
over. Her head was once more bowed on her pony's neck, her
whole frame shaking with convulsive sobs; she could scarce
with great effort keep from crying out aloud.
"Ellie!" said her adopted brother, in a voice that could
hardly be known for the one that had last spoken. She had no
words, but as he gently took one of her hands, the convulsive
squeeze it gave him showed the state of nervous excitement she
was in. It was very long before his utmost efforts could
soothe her, or she could command herself enough to tell him
her story. When at last told, it was with many tears.
"Oh, how could he! how could he!" said poor Ellen "how could
he do so! it was very hard!"
An involuntary touch of the spurs made John's horse start.
"But what took you to Thirlwall alone?" said he "you have
not told me that yet."
Ellen went back to Timothy's invasion of the cabbages, and
gave him the whole story of the morning.
"I thought when I was going for the doctor, at first," said
she, "and then afterwards when I had found him, what a good
thing it was that Timothy broke down the garden fence and got
in this morning; for if it had not been for that, I should not
have gone to Mr. Van Brunt's and then again, after that I
thought, if he only hadn't!"
"Little things often draw after them long trains of
circumstances," said John "and that shows the folly of those
people who think that God does not stoop to concern himself
about trifles; life, and much more than life, may hang upon
the turn of a hand. But, Ellen, you must ride no more alone.
Promise me that you will not."
"I will not to Thirlwall, certainly," said Ellen "but mayn't
I to Alice's? how can I help it?"
"Well to Alice's that is a safe part of the country; but I
should like to know a little more of your horse before
trusting you even there."
"Of the Brownie?" said Ellen "oh, he is as good as he can
be; you need not be afraid of him; he has no trick at all;
there never was such a good little horse."
John smiled. "How do you like mine?" said he.
"Is that your new one? Oh, what a beauty! Oh me, what a
beauty! I didn't look at him before. Oh, I like him very much!
he's handsomer than the Brownie do you like him?"
"Very well! this is the first trial I have made of him. I
was at Mr. Marshman's last night, and they detained me this
morning, or I should have been here much earlier. I am very
well satisfied with him, so far."
"And if you had _not_ been detained!" said Ellen.
"Yes, Ellie I should not have fretted at my late breakfast
and having to try Mr. Marshman's favourite mare, if I had
known what good purpose the delay was to serve. I wish I could
have been here half an hour sooner, though."
"Is his name the Black Prince?" said Ellen, returning to the
horse.
"Yes, I believe so; but you shall change it, Ellie, if you can
find one you like better."
"Oh, I cannot! I like that very much. How beautiful he is!
Is he good?"
"I hope so," said John, smiling "if he is not, I shall be at
the pains to make him so. We are hardly acquainted yet."
Ellen looked doubtfully at the black horse and his rider, and
patting the Brownie's neck, observed with great satisfaction
that he was very good.
John had been riding very slowly on Ellen's account; they now
mended their pace. He saw, however, that she still looked
miserably, and exerted himself to turn her thoughts from
everything disagreeable. Much to her amusement, he rode round
her two or three times, to view her horse and show her his
own; commended the Brownie; praised her bridle hand; corrected
several things about her riding; and by degrees engaged her in
a very animated conversation. Ellen roused up; the colour came
back to her cheeks; and when they reached home, and rode round
to the glass door, she looked almost like herself.
She sprang off as usual without waiting for any help. John
scarce saw that she had done so, when Alice's cry of joy
brought him to the door, and from that together they went in
to their father's study. Ellen was left alone on the lawn.
Something was the matter; for she stood with swimming eyes and
a trembling lip, rubbing her stirrup, which really needed no
polishing, and forgetting the tired horses, which would have
had her sympathy at any other time. What was the matter? Only
that Mr. John had forgotten the kiss he always gave her on
going or coming. Ellen was jealous of it as a pledge of
sistership, and could not want it; and though she tried as
hard as she could to get her face in order, so that she might
go in and meet them, somehow it seemed to take a great while.
She was still busy with her stirrup, when she suddenly felt
two hands on her shoulders, and looking up, received the very
kiss the want of which she had been lamenting. But John saw
the tears in her eyes, and asked her, she thought with
somewhat a comical look, what the matter was. Ellen was
ashamed to tell, but he had her there by the shoulders, and
besides, whatever that eye demanded, she never knew how to
keep back; so with some difficulty she told him.
"You are very foolish child, Ellie," said he, gently, and
kissing her again. "Run in out of the sun, while I see to the
horses."
Ellen ran in, and told her long story to Alice; and then,
feeling very weary and weak, she sat on the sofa, and lay
resting in her arms in a state of the most entire and
unruffled happiness. Alice, however, after a while,
transferred her to bed, thinking, with good reason, that a
long sleep would be the best thing for her.