CAPTAIN LANCASTER'S TEAM.
It was between eight and nine o'clock one evening, two or
three days later, when Mr. Rollo was informed that some one
wanted to speak to him. It was Reo Hartshorne.
'Very glad to see you home, sir,' said Reo earnestly; he was a
man of few words. 'I beg pardon--but are you going to the
Governor's to-night, Mr. Rollo?'
'Powder? No.'
'I have just come from taking Miss Wych,' said Reo, 'and met
Lewis, and heard you were home. Mr. Rollo,--do you know that a
four-in-hand party goes from Governor Powder's to-night at ten
o'clock?'
'I have but lately got home, Reo, and so have not heard quite
all the news. But I have nothing to do with the four-in-hand
club.'
'Miss Wych bade me come for her at eleven,' said Reo, going
straight to his point. 'And as she went in, Mr. Nightingale's
man laughed and said I'd better not lose my time. Eleven to-
morrow would be bearer the mark. And I might have told Mr.
Falkirk, sir,--but you were nearer by, and--a trifle quicker. So
I came. They're to stop at Greenbush for supper. And if some
of those young men come out as fit to drive as they went in,
it'll be something they never did before.'
'You came back this way,--with the carriage?'
'Yes, Mr. Rollo.'
'How do the horses go?'
'First-rate, sir. Want nothing but using.'
'Who is with you? Dingee or Lewis?'
'Lewis.'
'You are not fit to be up all night, Reo. I will take Lewis,
and drop you at Chickaree as we pass.'
'Fit to do anything for my little lady, Mr. Rollo. And I know
the horses.'
'Very well. Go into the kitchen and get some refreshment. Tell
Lewis Miss Maryland and I are going out in the carriage, and
we will leave him at Chickaree. I will be ready in fifteen
minutes.'
And in fifteen minutes Primrose had been apprized of the
service required of her, was ready, and the party set out.
To Greenbush, round by Chickaree, was a drive of twenty miles
or more; from Valley Garden it was something less. The road
was quiet enough at that hour, winding through a level part of
the country, lying white and still in the unclouded moonlight;
and Greenbush was reached in due time. The place was little
more now than one of those old taverns to be found on any
stage route, with its settlement of out-buildings; but the
present keeper of the house was an adept, and his suppers were
famous. The tavern, however, unlike most of its class, stood
in a patch of rather thick woodland, and boasted a high
surrounding fence and great gates at either entrance, having
been once a grand mansion. House and gateways were all alight
now, and the winding approach through the trees was hung with
swinging lamps. But the entrances were guarded.
'No carriage admitted till the four-in-hands come in!' said
the men on duty.
On foot, however, privately and humbly, the gentleman and lady
were allowed entrance. Rollo secured a comfortable room, with
some difficulty, and also ordered and obtained supper, not
without scruples and grumbles, all the strength of the house
being enlisted in the interests of the coming guests;
nevertheless money will do everything; and coffee, cold
chicken and bread and butter were served in tolerable style.
It availed only for outward circumstances of comfort, for poor
Rosy was extremely nervous and troubled in mind; very anxious
for Rollo, very discomfited on account of Wych Hazel, very
doubtful of the part she herself was to play. Rollo himself
was--the red squirrel.
Leaving Rosy with a kind admonition not to worry herself, and
to take some bread and chicken, he went out again to see that
the carriage was drawn up properly out of the way and Reo's
refreshment cared for; and then he took post himself in the
shadow of a clump of firs to wait for the expected revellers.
'Pity the lady hadn't stayed too, sir,' said one of the men.
'They'll be along just now. There's more of 'em down than
common, this year, they tell me, and it'll be a show.'
Other people thought so too, evidently, for vehicles of
various sorts, and people to match, began to gather along the
road, till all the space about the entrance-way was well
lined. An expectant, rather noisy, crowd, a good deal in the
interests of horseflesh but with a certain portion also of
interest in gay men and women.
'There they come!'--cried a boy high up in one of the trees;
but at first it was only a quiet coach with two horses,
Governor Powder's own, and at once admitted. Then there was
another pause--and at last down came the four-in-hands, with
flashing lamps, and harness that glittered all over in the
moonlight, and the fine in-time harmony of the horses' hoof-
beats. There was singing too, from some of the turn-outs,--
glees and choruses came in a faint wild mingling that rose and
fell and changed with the changes of the road.
'Captain Lancaster's ahead!' said one of the men.
'No--it's Richard May.'
'See for yourself, then,' said the other, as the first superb
four-in-hand came up; the horses shining almost like their own
harness, the drag in the newest style of finish, and with
every seat full. A young officer in undress uniform was on the
box, and by his side sat Wych Hazel. There was time for but a
look as the drag swept round the turn--just time to see who it
was, and that she wore no bonnet, but instead a sort of
Spanish drapery of black lace, and that his horses gave
Captain Lancaster so little concern that Miss Kennedy had
nearly all his attention,--then the vision was gone. Not
singing, these two, but the spectators heard her sweet laugh.
Flashing past, followed by another and another though not all
of equal style. The looker-on in the shade of the fir trees
just noticed that Kitty Fisher drove the second,--just caught
other familiar voices as they flew by.
There is no doubt but Miss Kennedy's younger guardian felt
there was a hard task upon him that night. Out of all the
glamour and glitter, the brilliance and beauty of such an
entertainment, he must be the one to take her, and substitute
an ignominious quiet progress home in her own carriage for the
fascination and excitement of Captain Lancaster's driving, and
Captain Lancaster's--and many others'--homage. And, worse yet,
the authority which he guessed well enough the little lady
rebelled against more than against any other point in the
arrangement that had displeased her, must here find in its
exercise. However, well as he knew the bad move it was for his
own game, Mr. Rollo was not a man to shirk difficult tasks.
Neither was he so unpractised a hunter as to conclude that any
move that _must_ be made, is a bad move. He knew better. So,
though he looked grave certainly as he walked back to the
house, he walked alertly, like a man ready for business.
He was not in a hurry. He gave time to the first confusion to
subside, and for people to get quiet in their places; in so
far, that is, as comparative quiet might be predicated of any
point of that gay evening. Evening indeed! The moon was riding
high in the zenith; it was between twelve and one o'clock.
Rollo walked the floor, and Primrose, miserable and anxious,
looked at him, and dared not say one word. Would Hazel break
friendship with her forever? and kindness with Rollo? And how
could Dane dare as he dared!
When supper was just about to be served, one of the attendants
entered the room where the party was gathered, asking if Miss
Kennedy was there. A lady and gentleman wanted to see Miss
Kennedy. The message in due course of time worked round to the
young lady.
'Have you got any friends in these parts?' said Josephine
Powder laughing. It was the way of the entertainment; nothing
was said without laughing.
'Must you go?' said Stuart Nightingale.
'Another trick of Kitty Fisher's,' said Wych Hazel. 'That
mysterious "lady and gentleman" again! You know they sent my
carriage away once. O yes, I will go and see what mischief is
on foot, and be back in a minute.'
The room where Rollo and Prim were waiting was down at one end
of the hall; and, dimly lighted as it was, in comparison with
the rest of the house, it seemed almost dark. They could see
her come down the hall, three or four gentlemen following; and
she sending them back with laughing words and glances thrown
over her shoulder.
'Now stop just where you are,' she said, turning round. 'I go
into the darkness alone, or the charm will be broken.'
And on she came with her airy tread, and was well in the room
before she saw anybody, and a servant had shut the door. Then
the change on her face was pitiful to see. In the excitement
of the drive and other things that night, she had evidently
forgotten for the time her new trouble. It came back now on
the instant, and for one quick moment she put up her hand to
her forehead as if with sudden pain. Then crossed both hands
upon her breast, and looked down, and stood still.
Rollo quitted the room. Primrose came to Wych Hazel's side and
threw her arms around her.
'It's only I, dear Hazel,' she said in tones of mingled
trouble and tenderness.
Miss Kennedy disengaged herself, not roughly but decidedly,
holding Primrose off, and looking at her.
'What is the matter?' she said. 'Is Mr. Falkirk ill?'
'No, dear.'
'Who then?' said Wych Hazel. 'Prim, never kill people by
degrees.'
'Nobody's ill--nobody! There is nothing the matter with
anybody, Hazel--except you. I've come to take care of you,
dear.'
'Did you?' said the girl. 'I think you want some one to take
care of you, by your looks. But I am rather too busy just now
to read essays on sentiment,--that can wait.' She moved towards
the door; but Primrose made a spring and caught her.
'Wait!--Hazel, you haven't heard what I wanted to say to you.
Don't be angry with me! O dear Hazel, do you know what sort of
times these four-in-hand people make down here?'
'I intend to find out.'
'But they are not fit for you, Hazel, indeed: it is not a fit
place for you to be. Hazel, they are often tipsy when they
drive home. Papa wouldn't let me be in such a place and ride
with them, for anything. How come you to be here?'
Hazel freed herself again with impatient haste.
'Let go of me!' she said. 'The man who drives _me_ home will be
sober. I will not hear any more.'
'Listen, Hazel, listen!' cried Prim, clinging to her. 'O do
not be angry with me! But you ought not be here; and Duke will
not let you stay, dear. We have brought the carriage to take
you home.'
Prim never could tell afterwards what sort of a look or what
sort of a sound answered that; what she did know was that Wych
Hazel was at the door and had it open in her hand. Prim's
gentleness, however, on this occasion was no bar to energetic
action; with another spring _she_ was at the door and had taken
it from Wych Hazel's hand, had shut it, and set her back
against it; all too suddenly and determinately to leave chance
for prevention.
'Hazel, dear, listen to me. You ought not be here, and Duke
will not let you. He has come to take you home, and he brought
me with him because he thought it would be nicer for you. And
he thought you would rather see me than him; but if you won't
listen to me, I must call him. He will not let you stay,
Hazel, and Duke always is right. But he thought you would like
better to go quietly off with me than to have any fuss made,
and all these people knowing about it and everybody talking.
Wouldn't it be nicer to go quietly without any one knowing why
you go?'
It was indescribable the way in which Miss Kennedy repeated
the word 'nice!' Then she spoke collectedly.
'Prim, I do not want to call in any of my friends--but I
declare I will, if you do not move away!'
'Must I call Duke?' said Prim, despairingly keeping her place.
'If you want him'--said Miss Kennedy, turning now towards the
bell. As the young lady faced about again, after pulling the
bell rope, she was confronted by her unwelcome guardian, just
before her.
It is almost proverbially known that the meeting of contrasts
is apt to have a powerful influence on one side or the other;
unless indeed the opposing forces are, what rarely happens, of
equal weight. What met Wych Hazel as she looked at him was
power--not of physical strength; the power of high breeding,
which is imposing as well as graceful; and also the power of a
perfectly unmoved self-possession. While there was at the same
time a winsome, gentle look, that she could hardly see in her
agitation, the spirit of which she could partly feel in the
voice that spoke to her. Neither cloud nor frown nor
discomposure of any sort was in it. He bowed, and then held
out his hand.
'Are you angry with me?' he said. 'With me, if anybody. Not
Prim.'
In the vagaries of human nature all things are possible. And
it is undoubted that in the first flash of eyes which greeted
Mr. Rollo there was mingled a certain gleam of fun. Whether
the prospect of a tilt had its excitements--whether she was
curious to see how he would carry his new office,--there it
was. But then the eye shadows grew deep and dark. She drew
back a little, not giving her hand; making instead a somewhat
formal courtesy.
'I was called here, it seems, to await your commands, Mr.
Rollo. May I have them, if they are ready?'
'They are not ready,' he answered, in a very low tone. 'Let
Miss Wych Hazel give commands to herself,--and be loyal and
true in her obedience to them.'
'I have given myself a good many since I have been in this
room,' said the girl, proudly. 'If I had not I should not be
here now.'
'Will you sit down?'
'Thank you--no. Unless we are to spend the rest of the night in
quiet conversation.'
'Then we will make the conversation short. Miss Hazel, the
company and the occasion you came to grace to-night are
unworthy of the honour.'
He paused for a reply, but, as none came, he went on:
'You do not know it now, but in the mean time I know it; and I
must act upon my knowledge. I have come to take you home.
Cannot you trust me, that I would not--for much--do anything so
displeasing to you, without good reason?'
'You men are so fond of being "trusted!" ' she said--quietly,
though there was some bitterness in the tone--'it is almost a
wonder it never occurs to you that a woman might like it too!
I know every one of the carriage party with whom I came. And
that I did not ask Mr. Falkirk's leave before I left home was
only because I did not know that I should need it.' But with
that came a quick painful blush, as suddenly remembering other
leave that must now be asked.
'I believe you may be trusted thoroughly, so far as your
knowledge goes,' he answered, gravely. Then waited a moment
and went on.
'You have had no supper. Will you take some refreshment before
we set out upon our return journey?'
She stood, leaning against the wall, not looking at anything
but the floor--and not seeing that;--as still as if she had not
heard him. Thinking--what was she thinking?--Then suddenly stood
up and answered.
'I can but obey. May I ask you to wait five minutes?--Stand
away, Prim, and let me pass.'
But he stayed her.
'It is better not to set people's tongues at work. I have sent
a message to the Miss Powders, to the effect that Miss Kennedy
had been suddenly summoned home, and making your excuses. As
from yourself. No name but yours appeared.'
If there was any one thing he had done which tried her almost
unbearably, it was that! There was a sort of quiet despair in
the way she turned from him and the door together, and took
the chair she had refused, and sat waiting. Rollo brought her
silently a cup of coffee and a plate with something to eat,
but both were refused.
'Are you ready, Prim?'
Primrose nervously put on her bonnet, which she had with
nervous unrest taken off; and Rollo offered his arm to Wych
Hazel.
'Let me go by myself,' she said--again not roughly, but as if
she could not help it. 'I am not going to run away.'
'In that case it is certainly not the arm of a jailor,' said
he, stooping down by her and smiling.
But the words, or the look, or something about them, very
nearly got the better of Wych Hazel's defences, and her eyes
flushed with tears.
'No--no,' she said under her breath. 'I will follow. Go on.'
'Certainly not _me_,' he answered. 'Go you with Prim, and I will
follow.'
One before and one behind!--thought the girl to herself,
comparing the manner of her entrance. She went on, not with
Prim, but swiftly ahead of her, and put herself in the
carriage, as she had brought herself out of the house. Prim
followed. Rollo mounted the box and took the reins, and,
having fresh horses from the inn, they drove off at a smart
pace. And Hazel, laying one hand on the sill of the open
window, leaned her head against the frame, and so, wrapped in
her black lace, sat looking out, with eyes that never seemed
to waver. Into the white moonshine,--which soon would give way
before the twilight 'which should be dawn and a to-morrow.'
For a long time Primrose bore this, thinking hard too on her
part. For she had much to think of, in connection with both
her companions. She was hurt for Rollo; she was grieved for
Wych Hazel; was there anything personal and private to herself
in her vexation at the needlessness of the trouble which was
affecting them? If there were, Primrose did not look at it
much. But it seemed very strange in her eyes that any one
should rebel against what was, to her, the honey sweetness of
Dane's authority. Strange that anything he disliked, should be
liked by anybody that had the happiness of his care. And
strange beyond strangeness, that this girl should slight such
words and looks as he bestowed upon her. Primrose knew how
deep the meaning of them was; she knew how great the grace of
them was; could it be possible Wych Hazel did not know? One
such word and look would have made her happy for days; upon a
few of them she could have lived a year. So it seemed to her.
She did not wish that they were hers; she did not repine that
they were another's; she only thought these things. But there
were other thoughts that came up, as a sigh dismissed the
foregoing.
'Hazel!--' she ventured gently, when half of the way was done.
Hazel's thoughts had been so far away that she started.
'What?' she said hastily.
'May I talk to you, just a little bit?'
'O yes,--certainly. Anybody may do anything to me.' But she
kept her position unchanged. 'I am listening, Prim.'
'Hazel, dear, are you quite sure you are doing right?'
'About what?'
'About-- Please don't take it ill of me, but it troubles me,
Hazel. About this sort of life you are leading.'
'This sort of life?' Hazel repeated, thinking over some of the
days last past. 'Much you know about it!'
'I do not suppose I do. I cannot know much about it,' said
Primrose meekly. 'All _my_ way of life has been so different.
But do you think, Hazel, really, that there is not something
better to do with one's self than what all these gay people
do?'
'I think you are a great deal better than I am--if that will
content you.'
'Why should it content me?' said Primrose, laughing a little.
'I do not see anything pleasant in it, even supposing it were
true.'
'There is some use in training you,' Hazel went on; 'but no
amount of pruning would ever bring me into shape.' And with
that, somehow, there came up the thought of a little sketch,
wherein her hat swung gayly from the top of a rough hazel
bush; and with the thought a pain so keen, that for the moment
her head went down upon her hands on the window-sill.
Primrose was silent a few moments, not knowing just how to
speak.
'But Hazel,' she began, slowly--'all these gay people you are
so much with, they live just for the pleasure of the minute;
and when the pleasure of the minute is over, what remains? I
cannot bear to have you forget that, and become like them.'
'Like them?' said Hazel. 'Am I growing like Kitty Fisher?'
'No, no, no!' cried Primrose. 'You are not a bit like her, not
a bit. I do not mean that; but I mean, dear,--aren't you just
living for the moment's pleasure, and forgetting something
better?'
'Forgetting a good many things, you think.'
'Aren't you, Hazel? And I cannot bear to have you.'
'What am I to remember?' said the girl in a sort of dreamy
tone, with her thoughts on the wing.
'Remember that you have something to do with your life and
with yourself, Hazel; something truly noble and happy and
worth while. I am sure dancing-parties are not enough to live
on. Are they?'
'No.'
Perhaps Primrose thought she had said enough; perhaps she did
not know how to choose further words to hit the girl's mood.
She was patiently silent. Suddenly Hazel sat up and turned
towards her.
'You poor little Prim!' she said, laying gentle hands on her
shoulders and a kiss on each cheek,--'whirled off from your
green leaves on a midnight chase after witches! This was one
of Mr. Rollo's few mistakes: he should have come alone.'
'Should he?' said Primrose, wondering. 'But it wouldn't have
been so good for you, dear, would it?'
'Prim'--somewhat irrelevantly--'did you ever have a thorn in
your finger?'
'What do you mean?' Primrose answered in just bewilderment.
'Well I have two in mine.' And Miss Kennedy went back to the
window and her world of moonlight. She did not wonder that the
Indians reckoned their time by 'moons;' she was beginning to
check off her own existence in the same way. In one moon she
had walked home from Merricksdale, in another driven back from
Mrs. Seaton's; and now in this--But then her head went down
upon the window-sill once more, nor was lifted again until the
carriage was before the steps of Chickaree.
'Dane,' said Primrose, as the two were parting in the dusky
hall at home, 'she will never get over this. Never, never,
never!'
He kissed her, laughing, and giving her hand a warm grasp.
'You are mistaken,' he said. 'She is a more sensible woman
than you giver her credit for.'