THE "GREEN DRAGON"
Kennedy McClure did not inhabit Hanover Lodge, though the Princess
pressed her hospitality upon him. He knew his place, he said. He might
be Laird of Supsorrow and all that. His cattle were upon a thousand
hills, but for all that he was just a rough-spun Galloway farmer body
and he would not disgrace the company of no great ladies by his
ignorances.
The truth was that he had a horror of the whole genus "lackey," and he
could not even pass the soberly clad "gentlemen" of the Princess without
a quivering of the muscles and a clenching of the fists. He found
himself much more comfortable at the adjoining Green Dragon Inn, which
stands near the river just on the London side of the toll-bar.
All the same he went often to see Patsy, and upon occasion would stay
for luncheon, where the originality of his language and the quaintness
of his dress pleased the Princess and her guests. The Laird of Supsorrow
in his coat of blue and silver, his buff waistcoat and corded moleskin
small clothes, his silver buckles and broad silver thumb-ring, his gold
snuff-mull and the cowries clashing at his fob, was considered the type
of the real Scottish countryman. He was really infinitely like the later
caricatures of John Bull than anything counted distinctively
Scottish--that is, till you heard him speak.
To Patsy he grew increasingly necessary. His sonorous Doric brought her
back to the land of wet west winds, of blue inrushing seas, of
far-stretching heather and sudden-dipping valleys where the birch-leaves
and pine-needles play tremulous games at hide-and-seek with speckled
trout in light-sprinkled pools.
For during these days Patsy went about with a load on her heart. It was
only partly her fault, but the fact was that she had let herself drift a
little. She had in no way recognized or accepted the proposals of the
Prince of Altschloss. But neither had she definitely refused them. The
last course grew increasingly difficult, and, except Miss Aline, who was
sympathetic but without marked initiative outside the matter of
jam-making and house-wifery, there was no one in whom Patsy could
confide.
In her heart she was firmly resolved not to marry the Prince. But the
Princess had been so kind, even so affectionate after her manner, and
Uncle Julian would be so disappointed--that against her better judgment
Patsy let matters drift. Her father was so non-committal and far-off
that no help could be got out of him. Even had he been in the next room,
he would not have helped her to decide, though he might have been useful
in other ways. But as it was she had to think and act for herself. The
old Earl continued his visits, generally appearing on the Friday
afternoon and frequently staying over to supper. At first he was not
wholly pleased to find Kennedy McClure, his enemy and victor in many a
hard-contested land-bargain, established as a friend of the Princess
Elsa. But when he had seen how well the man carried himself, how simple
and unobtrusive were his manners, he called to mind that the Supsorrow
McClures were of good blood, and that, though they had taken the Orange
and Hanoverian side, they had never grasped at Raincy property during
the black days of the attainder, as the Bunny Bunnys and Dalrymples had
done--on whom be the blackest of Raincy anathemas!
Now the Laird of Supsorrow was a severely regular man, and always took a
daily walk through the park or along the river-bank to watch the craft,
the bustle of the towpath, the wrangling of the sea-coal porters--all
the sights and sounds of the waterside so strange to him. Patsy fell
easily into the habit of accompanying him. There was a freshness and yet
a friendliness in the sound of that deep voice, unmistakable and
weighty, yet with curiously tender inflections in it when he addressed
Patsy.
Patsy does not know herself how she first began to confide in this man.
Perhaps she had a severe dose of home-sickness one day, and the Galloway
voice, speaking broadly as they talked at Glenanmays, as Jean and
Diarmid and Fergus and Agnew spoke, made her do it. For Miss Aline spoke
dainty old lady Scots, but without the broad accent of the moors, which
was not at all the same thing to Patsy.
The shrewd old man divined a good deal too. Patsy did not care to talk
about anything but the Valleys. She rejected topic after topic and
returned to the Free Trade, the "running" of cargoes, the lads who had
beaten the press-gang, and their chief, Stair Garland.
Kennedy tried her once or twice on the subject of her marriage, and even
slily addressed her once or twice as "Princess." This last "try-on" was
successful, for Patsy burst forth.
"I forbid you to say that. I will not be so misnamed. There is nothing
in it, I tell you. My consent has never even been asked. They are trying
to drive me into it, but I shall show them! Oh, if only I knew any way
of getting away. It will come to that in the end. I have thought of
coaches and so on, but that would cost money, more than I have got, and
besides, they might get faster horses and catch me. I have written to my
father and he only tells me that no one can possibly marry me against my
will. I have only to say 'no'--as if I have ever got the chance. They
all take it for granted!"
"Then you dinna want to marry this grand Prince?" said Kennedy, feigning
astonishment; "how can a lass not want to have such a great title? There
are thousands that would jump at it."
"Well, I won't. I am not going to be a Princess, but just Patsy Ferris
of Cairn Ferris. Oh, Mr. Kennedy, I wish you could help me."
"Weel," said the Laird of Supsorrow, tapping his snuff-box meditatively,
"maybe I might--if so be I could see our way oot at the farther end."
"Oh, there is a way," cried Patsy, clasping both hands about the Laird's
arm, and looking up into his face, to the wonder and admiration of the
passers-by, who envied the proud father of so charming a
daughter--especially when the old man walked fast to get clear of a
string of trace-horses, and Patsy took to skipping on one foot to keep
up with him.
"Oh, will you--how good of you!" she exclaimed, clutching his sleeve
tight. "I thought of dressing up and running away to sea as a cabin-boy.
I was so desperate. But, really, all I want is to win safe back to
Galloway and--to be let do as I like."
"That last," said the Laird drily, "is, so far as I have observed, what
the hale race o' weemen-kind exclusively desire and seek after in this
life--juist leave to do as they like."
Then he added cautiously, "Would you go decently to your father's house
if I landed ye on the Back Shore? Now tell me honestly, Miss Patsy!"
"Well, I might--upon conditions--!"
"Ah, I suppose the conditions we have just been talking about."
"Something like them," said Patsy, smiling; "but, then, my father has
always let me do as I like, and he will now, if only I could get at
him--_by himself_! Only you see, there's Uncle Julian. He's a dear, and
I love him, but for him all that the Princess says is gospel--all that
she wants must be done instantly. That is why I am here. That is, why
this Austrian applejack is forced into the deadly breach and made to
make love to me. I don't think he wants to in the least. It is the
Princess who is too strong for him, as she is too strong for Uncle Ju,
and as she may prove too strong for me, if I don't get out of this and
run away!"
"We'll see, bairn! We will just see!" was all she could get out of
Kennedy McClure.
* * * * *
Two events fruitful of consequences followed closely on this talk which
Patsy had with the Laird of Supsorrow. The first of these was a visit
which Patsy received about ten of the clock the very next morning. She
was breakfasting in Miss Aline's sitting-room after a cool ramble in the
garden. The Princess did not often appear before noon, so Miss Aline and
Patsy had the morning to themselves.
"A lady to see Miss Ferris," said the maid, who, in consequence of Miss
Aline's prejudice, had been provided to wait upon them; "no, the lady
would not give her name. It was Miss Ferris she asked to see, and as
soon as possible. No, Miss Aline, I do not think it was some one asking
for money. She came in a carriage with liveries, quite the lady."
Patsy went down immediately, and in the Gold Parlour she found the Lady
Lucy Raincy--Lady Lucy in tears, Lady Lucy in a pleasant fluffy
desolation of woe. She flung her arms about the girl's neck and wept
freely on her shoulder.
"Oh, help me," she sobbed, "you _will_ help me, I know. I have not
always seemed a good friend to you, but I have always really loved you.
Only you know, a mother with an only son--I suppose I was jealous. And
oh, how I wish I had made Louis marry you then--"
"_Then_," said Patsy, turning sharply, "when?"
"When he wanted to and spoke to me about it! If only I had let him!"
"But _I_ would not have 'let him' (as you call it), not then nor any
other time!"
"But oh, be kind now," pleaded the mother, her under-lip wickering so
that Patsy, even in the act of standing on her dignity, was somehow
touched.
"Yes--yes, I will do all I can--of course, Lady Lucy. I mean to be
kind," cried Patsy, instantly remorseful, "only I won't be given away
like a packet of sweets without my consent being asked!"
"No, nothing of the kind--of course not," said the Lady Lucy, glad to
arrive at her purpose with any sacrifice of dignity; "but now you must
come away with me at once and help to keep Louis from marrying that
horrid Mrs. Arlington, as he swears he will. And he is defying his
grandfather, who may have a fit any moment and die--he is so angry--or
else kill Louis, I don't know which. As I came out of the door I heard
the Earl call out that he would take the dog-whip to him and thrash him
within an inch of his life for an insolent puppy. And you know how proud
Louis is. So you must come instantly with me and put a stop to it. You
know he will listen to you. He won't to me--he pushed me aside, telling
me not to meddle with men's business, when his grandfather declared that
he would disinherit him of every penny he could lay his hands upon, and
leave him with the bare title and as poor as Job."
"But," said Patsy, holding back, "Louis would not care a bit what I
said. Why should he? If he wants to marry Mrs. Arlington, what can I say
to keep him from doing it?"
The poor lady flopped spongily upon her knees, and taking hold of
Patsy's short morning-frock, she besought her to be kind to the most
unfortunate of mothers.
"You must come back with me," she wailed, growing more insistent; "you
are the only one he really cares about. He used to say so even
when--when I did not want him to say it. You have influence, and he will
listen to you--and it will kill me if he breaks with his grandfather for
the sake of that--woman! I believe the very sight of you would make him
forget about that minx. Why, she is nearly as old as I am--besides her
history!"
"I can have nothing to do with that, Lady Lucy," said Patsy, who saw no
way of refusing. "But if you like I will come and stay a day or two at
Raincy House, since you are good enough to ask me. It is no use talking
to Louis now. But perhaps we can manage in some other way. At any rate
that is the best I can think of. At lunch I shall speak to Miss Aline
and the Princess, and if you send the carriage for me this afternoon I
shall be ready."
And the poor mother wept joyfully over her till Patsy's nice
morning-gown hung about her all limp and bedripped.
"Thank you--thank you, dear," she said, when she had recovered a little
of her voice; "I feel that my boy is saved."
"I can only do what I can, but remember, I am not going to be married
offhand either to Louis or anybody else. However, I don't mind being the
brave, bold Newfoundland dog, who swims in and saves poor Louis from the
wicked jaws of the Arlington shark!"