Mr Onesimus Bray led rather an uncomfortable life at home, and more
than once he had confided his troubles to the sympathising ear of Sir
Philip Vining. Laura was given to snubbing him; Max made no scruple
about displaying the contempt in which he held his parent; while as to
Mrs Bray, the wife of his bosom, the principal cause of his suffering
from her was the way in which she sat upon him.
Now it must not be supposed that Mrs Bray literally and forcibly did
perform any such act of cruelty; for this was only Mr Bray's
metaphorical way of speaking in alluding to the way in which he was kept
down and debarred from having a voice in his own establishment, the
consequence being that he sought for solace and recreation elsewhere.
Mr Onesimus Bray was far from being a poor man; so that if he felt
inclined to indulge in any particular hobby, his banker never said him
"Nay," while if Mrs Bray's somewhat penurious alarms could be laid by
the promise of profit, she would raise not the slightest opposition to
her husband's projects. At the present time, Mr Bray's especial hobby
was a model farm, in which no small sum of money had been sunk--of
course, with a view to profit; but so far the returns had been _nil_.
The old farmers of the neighbourhood used to wink and nod their heads
together, and cackle like so many of their own geese at what they called
Mr Bray's "fads"--namely, at his light agricultural carts and wagons;
despising, too, his cows and short-legged pigs; but, all the same,
losing no chance of obtaining a portion of his stock when occasion
served.
Moved by a strong desire to possess the finest Southdown sheep in the
county, Mr Bray had purchased a score of the best to be had for money,
among which was a snowy-wooled patriarchal ram, as noble-looking a
specimen of its kind as ever graced a Roman triumphal procession ere
bedewing with its heart's blood the sacrificial altar. Gentle, quiet,
and inoffensive, the animal might have been played with by a child
before it arrived at Mr Bray's model farmstead; but having been there
confined for a few days in a brick-walled pig-sty, the unfortunate
quadruped attracted the notice of the young gentleman whose duty it was
to clean knives, boots, and shoes at the Elms, and wait table at dinner,
clothed in a jacket glorious with an abundant crop of buttons gracefully
arranged in the outline of a balloon over his padded chest. It occurred
to this young gentleman one afternoon when alone, that a little playful
teasing of the ram might afford him some safe sport; so fetching a large
new thrum mop from the kitchen, he held it over the side of the pig-sty,
shaking it fiercely and threateningly at the ram, till the poor beast
answered the challenge of the--to him--strange enemy by backing as far
as possible, and then running with all his might at the
suddenly-withdrawn mop, when his head would come with stunning violence
against the bricks, making the wall quiver again.
The pleasant pastime used to be carried on very frequently, till most
probably, not from soreness--rams' heads being slightly thick, and able
to suffer even brick walls--but from disappointment at not being able to
smite its adversary, the ram became changed into a decidedly vicious
beast, and, as such, he was turned out into one of Mr Bray's pleasant
meadows.
Now, as it fell upon a day, perfectly innocent of there being any
vicious animal in the neighbourhood, Ella Bedford had passed through
this very meadow during a walk with her three pupils. The morning was
bright and sunshiny, and the sight of a fine snowy-wooled sheep cropping
the bright green herbage was not one likely to create alarm. Had it
been a cow, or even a calf, it might have been different, and the stiles
and footpaths avoided for some other route; for the female eye is a
strong magnifier of the bovine race, and we have known ladies refuse to
pass through a field containing half-a-dozen calves, which had been
magnified, one and all, into bulls of the largest and fiercest
character.
There was something delightful to Ella in the sweet repose of the
country around. The grass was just springing into its brightest green,
gilded here and there with the burnished buttercups, while in every
hedge-side "oxlips and the nodding violet" were blooming; the oaks, too,
were beginning to wear their livery of green and gold. The birds sang
sweetly as they jerked themselves from spray to spray, while that Sims
Reeves of the feathered race--the lark--balanced himself far up in the
blue ether, and poured out strain after strain of liquid melody. There
was that wondrous elasticity in the air, that power which sets the heart
throbbing, and the mind dreaming of something bright, ethereal,
ungrasped, but now nearer than ever to the one who drinks in the sweet
intoxicating breath of spring.
There was a brightness in Ella's eye, and a slight flush in her cheek,
as she walked on with her pupils, smiling at each merry conceit, and
feeling young herself, in spite of the age of sorrow that had been hers.
For a while she forgot the strange home and the cool treatment she was
receiving; the unpleasant attentions, too, of the hopeful son of the
house; the meeting in the gallery. The wearisome compliments at the
flower-show were set aside; for--perhaps influenced by the bright
morning--Ella's cheek grew still more flushed, and in spite of herself
she dwelt upon the scene where she pictured two beings addressed by a
frank bold horseman; and as his earnest gaze seemed directed once more
at her, Ella's heart increased its pulsations, but only to be succeeded
by a dull sense of aching misery, as another picture floated before her
vision, to the exclusion of the sunny landscape and the glorious spring
verdure. The sweet liquid trill of the birds, too, grew dull on her
ear; for she seemed once more to see the same earnest gaze fixed upon
her face, and then to watch the start of surprise--was it
disappointment?--as again Laura Bray's words rang on her ears:
"Miss Bedford, our new governess!"
It was time to cease dreaming, she thought.
Walks must come to an end sooner or later; and a reference to her watch
showing Ella Bedford that they would only reach the Elms in time for
lunch, they began to retrace their steps, when, to the young girl's
horror, she saw that they had been followed by no less a personage than
Mr Maximilian Bray, whose first act upon reaching them was to take his
place by Ella's side, and send his sisters on in advance.
But that was not achieved without difficulty, Miss Nelly turning round
sharply and declining to go.
"I shan't go, Max! You only want to talk sugar to Miss Bedford; and ma
says you're ever so much too attentive--so there now!"
Ella's face became like scarlet, and she increased her pace; but a
whisper from Max sent Nelly scampering off after her two sisters--now
some distance in advance--when he turned to the governess.
"Glad I caught up to you, Miss Bedford--I am, bai Jove! You see, I
wanted to have a few words with you."
"Mr Maximilian Bray will, perhaps, excuse my hurrying on," said Ella
coldly. "It is nearly lunch-time, and I am obliged to teach punctuality
to my pupils."
"Bai Jove! ya-as, of course!" said Max. "But I never get a word with
you at home, and I wanted to set myself right with you about that
station matter."
"If Mr Bray would be kind enough to forget it, I should be glad," said
Ella quickly.
"Bai Jove! ya-as; but, you see, I can't. You see, it was all a joke so
as to introduce myself like, being much struck, you know. Bai Jove,
Miss Bedford! I can't tell you how much struck I was with your personal
appearance--can't indeed!"
Ella's lip curled with scorn as she slightly bent her head and hurried
on.
"Don't walk quite so fast, my dear--Miss Bedford," he added after a
pause, as he saw the start she gave. "We shall be time enough for
lunch, I daresay. Pleasant day, ain't it?"
Ella bent her head again in answer, but still kept on forcing the pace;
for the children were two fields ahead, and racing on as quickly as
possible.
"Odd, wasn't it, Miss Bedford, that we should have met as we did, and
both coming to the same place? Why don't you take my arm? There's
nobody looking--this time," he added.
The hot blood again flushed up in Ella's cheek as she darted an
indignant glance at her persecutor; but there was something in Max
Bray's composition which must have prevented him from reading aright the
signs and tokens of annoyance in others; and, besides, he was so lost in
admiration of his own graces and position, that when, as he termed it,
he _stooped_ to pay attentions to an inferior, every change of
countenance was taken to mean modest confusion or delight.
"There, don't hurry so!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Bai Jove, what a
fierce little thing you are! Now, look here: we're quite alone, and I
want to talk to you. There, you needn't look round: the children are
half-way home, and we shall be quite unobserved. Bai Jove! why, what a
prudish little creature you are!"
Ella gave a quick glance round, but only to find that it was just as Max
had said. There was a sheep feeding in the field, whose hedges were of
the highest; and for aught she could see to the contrary, there was no
assistance within a mile, while Max Bray had caught her hand in his, and
was barring the route.
Regularly driven to bay, Ella turned upon him with flaming face, trying
at the same moment to snatch away her hand, which, however, he held the
tighter, crushing her fingers painfully, though she never winced.
"Mr Bray," she exclaimed, "do you wish me to appeal to your father for
protection?"
"Of course not!" he drawled. "But there now--bai Jove! what is the use
of your putting on all those fine airs and coy ways? Do you think I'm
blind, or don't understand what they mean? Come now, just listen to
what I say."
Before Ella could avoid his grasp, he had thrown one arm round her
waist, when he started back as if stung, for a loud mocking laugh came
from the stile.
"Ha, ha, ha! I thought so! I knew you wanted to talk sugar to Miss
Bedford."
At the same moment Max and Ella had seen the merry delighted countenance
of Nelly, who had crept silently back, but now darted away like a deer.
A cold chill shot through Ella Bedford's breast, and it was with the
greatest difficulty that she could force back the angry tears as she saw
that her future was completely marred at the Elms--how that she was, as
it were, at the mercy of the young girl placed in her charge, unless she
forestalled any tattling by complaining herself of the treatment to
which she had been subjected.
"There, you needn't mind her!" exclaimed Max, who partly read her
thoughts. "I can keep her saucy little tongue quiet. You need not be
afraid."
"Afraid!" exclaimed Ella indignantly, as she turned upon the speaker
with flashing eyes, and vainly endeavoured to free the hand Max had
again secured.
"Handsomer every moment, bai Jove!" exclaimed Max. "You've no idea how
a little colour becomes you! Now, I just want to say a few--"
"Are you aware, sir, that this is a cruel outrage?--one of which no
gentleman would be guilty."
"Outrage? Nonsense! What stuff you do talk, my dear! I should have
thought that, after what I said to you at the flower-show, you would
have been a little more gentle, and not gone flaming out at a poor
fellow like this. You see, I love you to distraction, Miss Bedford--I
do indeed. Bai Jove, I couldn't have thought that it was possible for
any one to have made such an impression upon me. Case of love at first
sight--bai Jove, it was! And here you are so cruel--so hard--so--'Pon
my soul I hardly know what to call it--I don't, bai Jove!"
"Mr Bray," said Ella passionately, "every word that you address to me
in this way is an insult. As the instructor of your sisters, your duty
should be to protect, not outrage my feelings at every encounter."
She struggled to release her hand, but vainly. Each moment his grasp
grew firmer, and, like some dove in the claws of a hawk, she panted to
escape. She felt that it would be cowardly to call for help; besides,
it would be only making a scene in the event of assistance being near
enough to respond to her appeal; and she had no wish to figure as an
injured heroine or damsel in distress. Her breast heaved, and an angry
flush suffused her cheeks, while, in spite of every effort, the great
hot tears of annoyance and misery would force themselves to her eyes.
She knew it not--though she saw the exquisite's gaze fixed more and more
intently upon her--she knew not how excitement was heightening the soft
beauty of her face, brightening her eyes, suffusing her countenance with
a warm glow, and lending animation where sorrow had left all tinged with
a sad air of gloom--an aspect that had settled down again after the
brightness given by the early part of her walk.
"There now, don't be foolish, and hurt the poor little white hand! You
can't get away, my little birdie; for I've caught you fast. And don't
get making those bright eyes all dull and red with tears. I don't like
crying--I don't indeed, bai Jove! Now let's walk gently along together.
There--that's the way. And now we can talk, and you can listen to what
I have to say."
In spite of her resistance, he drew the young girl's hand through his
arm, and held it thus firmly. But to walk on, Ella absolutely refused;
and stopping short, she tried to appeal to his feelings.
"Mr Bray," she said, "as a gentleman, I ask you to consider my
position. You have already done me irreparable injury in the eyes of
your sister; and now by this persecution you would force me to leave my
situation, perhaps with ignominy. I appeal to your feelings--to your
honour--to cease this unmanly pursuit."
"Ah, that's better!" he said mockingly. "But I'm afraid, my dear, you
have a strong tinge of the romantic in your ideas. I see, you read too
many novels; but you'll come round in time to my way of thinking, only
don't try on so much of this silly prudishness, my dear. It don't do,
you know, because I can see through it. There, now, don't struggle;
only I'm not going to let you go without something to remember this
meeting by. Now don't be silly! It's no robbery--only an exchange. I
want that little ring to hang at my watch-chain, and you can wear this
one for my sake. There!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as he succeeded in
drawing a single gem pearl ring from her finger and placing one he drew
from his pocket in its place, Ella the while alternately pale and red
with suppressed anger, for she had vainly looked around for help; and
now forcing back her tears, and scorning to display any farther
weakness, she took off the ring and dashed it upon the path.
"What a silly little thing it is!" laughed Bray, who considered that he
was honouring her with his attentions, however rough they might be.
"But it's of no use: you don't go till that ring is on your darling
little finger--you don't, bai Jove!"
Was there to be no help? A minute before, she would have refused
assistance; for she did not believe that any one professing to be a
gentleman would so utterly have turned a deaf ear to her protestations
and appeals. From some low drink-maddened ruffian she might have fled
in horror, shrieking, perhaps, for help; but here, with the son of her
employers, Ella had believed that her indignant rejection of the
insulting addresses would have been sufficient to set her at liberty.
She was, then, half stunned as to her mental faculties on finding that
her words were mocked at, her appeals disregarded, and even her
indignant looks treated as feints and coyness. But then, poor girl, she
did not know Maximilian Bray, and that his gross nature was not one that
could grasp the character of a good and pure-hearted woman. It was
something he could not understand. He measured other natures by his
own, and acted accordingly. Once only the thoughts of Ella Bedford flew
towards Charles Vining, as if, in spite of herself, they sought in him
her natural protector, but only for an instant; and now, seriously
alarmed, she gazed earnestly round for aid. She would have even gladly
welcomed the mocking face of Nelly, and have called her to her side.
But no, Nelly had hurried away, content and laughing at what she had
seen: and now from the indignant flush, Ella's face began to pale into a
look of genuine alarm. But help was at hand.
Still holding tightly by her hand, Max Bray stooped to recover the ring,
when, suddenly as a flash of light, a white rushing form seemed to dart
through the air, catching Max Bray, as he bent down, right upon the
crown of his hat, crushing it over his eyes, and tumbling him over and
over, as a fierce "Ba-a-a-a!" rung upon his astonished ears.
Set free by this unexpected preserver, Ella, panting and alarmed, fled
for the stile and climbed it, when, looking back, she saw that she was
safe, while Max Bray rose, struggling to free himself from his
crushed-down hat; but only for his father's prize Southdown to dart at
and roll him over again: when, once more rising to his feet, he ran,
frightened and blindfold, as hard as he could across the field in the
opposite direction.
Ella saw no more. It did not fall to her lot to see Max Bray make a
blind bound--a leap in the dark--from his unseen pursuer, and land in
the midst of a dense blackthorn hedge, out of which he struggled, torn
of flesh and coat, to free himself from the extinguishing hat, and gaze
through the hedge-gap at his assailant, who stood upon the other side
shaking his head, and bucking and running forward "ba-a-a-ing"
furiously.
For a few moments Max Bray was speechless with rage and astonishment.
To think that he, Maximilian Bray, should have been bowled over,
battered, and made to flee ignominiously by a sheep! It was positively
awful.
"You--you--you beast! you--you woolly brute!" he stuttered at last.
"I'll--I'll--bai Jove, I'll shoot you as sure as you're there!--I will,
bai Jove!"
But now the worst of the affair flashed upon him, making torn clothes,
thorns in the flesh, and battered hat seem as nothing, though these were
in his estimation no trifles; but this was the second time within the
past few days that he had been wounded in his self-esteem.
"And now there's that confounded coy jade run home laughing at me--I'm
sure she has!" he muttered. "Not that there was anything to laugh at;
but never mind: `Every dog--' My turn will come! But to be upset like
this! And--what? you won't let me come through!"
There was no doubt about it. The Southdown was keeping guard at the
stile, and Max Bray, after trying to repair damages, was glad to make
his way back to the Elms by a circuitous route, and then to creep in by
the side-door unseen, vowing vengeance the while against those who had
brought him to that pass.
"But I'll make an end of the sheep!" he exclaimed--"I will, bai Jove!"
Volume 1, Chapter X.