Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: "I SHALL NOT BE LIKELY TO CHOOSE AGAIN, KATHLEEN."]
A WILFUL WARD
BY RUTH LAMB
Author of
"Only a Girl Wife," "Her Own Choice,"
"In the Twilight Side by Side,"
"Not Quite a Lady," etc.
LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. GOING TO THE MEET
II. CAPTAIN JACK
III. A HEAVY PENALTY
IV. BLIND, YET SEEING
V. UNDER WATCH AND WARD
VI. A REJECTED TROPHY
VII. CAPTAIN JACK'S APOLOGY
VIII. MISUNDERSTANDINGS
IX. A REPENTANT REBEL
X. CONFIDENCES AND FOREBODINGS
XI. GOOD RESOLUTIONS
XII. WORDS IN SEASON
XIII. A HOPELESS SUITOR
XIV. FAST FRIENDS
XV. BOYISH CONFIDENCES
XVI. A HAPPY HOLIDAY
XVII. VOWS WRITTEN ON SAND
XVIII. WOOING BY PROXY
XIX. CLOUDS OVERHEAD
XX. DISILLUSIONED
XXI. THE FIRST QUARREL
XXII. FRUITS MEET FOR REPENTANCE
XXIII. LIGHT AT EVENTIDE
A WILFUL WARD
CHAPTER I
GOING TO THE MEET
"MY dear Kathleen, do try and be reasonable. To hear your grumbling,
any one might think the rain had been sent on purpose to disappoint
you of your ride. Remember, child. This is the fourth of November, not
midsummer, and the rain is seasonable."
"It may be seasonable, but it is just as disagreeable and disappointing
as if it were not. I do not need to be reminded that this is the fourth
of November, for everybody has been dinning the date into my ears for
a fortnight past. I have not exchanged words with a single creature
without being reminded that this day's meet at Hollingsby will be the
finest sight of the kind that Woldshire has witnessed since the old
earl died."
"The first meet of the season is always a fine spectacle, my dear."
"Yes, aunt, but this will be a record meet. The young earl has just
come of age, and everybody is bent on making it a gathering to be
remembered for generations to come. It is to stand first in the annals
of the Hollingsby Hunt."
"I dare say you are right, Kathleen. All the gentry will be at the
breakfast; the large tenants will be guests, and all the smaller fry
will put the best foot foremost. Men and horses will make a brave show,
in spite of these drenching showers which keep coming down to spoil the
turn-out. However, I for one do not envy them what they are pleased to
call 'sport.' I cannot forget the foxes' side of the question."
"As if foxes were of any use," replied Kathleen, with a curl of her
pretty lip.
"In a way, they do not seem to be, but I never like to assume that
about any living thing. I cannot imagine that any creature, however
humble its place in nature, however repulsive it may seem to some of
us, was made without being destined to fill some useful niche in the
great Creator's plan. I do not pretend to know all about these things.
But if one grasps, in ever so little a way, the idea how great and
good and kind God is, and how His wisdom is shown in every work of His
hands, one may believe that the meanest of all has its use."
"Of course the fox is useful for hunting, and is, in a way, the cause
of to-day's meet," replied Kathleen.
"Ah, my dear, I am thankful that I at least have no taste for such
barbarous practices. To destroy a wild animal that is harmful to man
and to useful creatures, is surely right. But to preserve foxes on
purpose to be hunted by a pack of yelling hounds, and then cut to
pieces alive, is a sport worthy only of savages. I am afraid I was glad
when, once last season, the suffering fox bit the cruel hand that was
torturing it, and that Huntsman Tom was unable to torment another for
some time to come."
"Aunty, you do take an extreme view. To talk about those beautiful
creatures as 'yelling hounds!'"
"What else are they, Kathleen? Not that I blame them, they are trained
to the work, and squires and ladies fair enjoy the sport to which
horse, hound, and wretched fox contribute. You may smile, Kathleen, but
I know that look of contempt is only for your old aunt's old-fashioned
ideas, not for herself. But, however long I may live, I trust I shall
never find pleasure in what causes suffering to the meanest of God's
creatures."
Kathleen rushed impulsively towards her aunt, threw her arms round her
neck, and kissed her again and again.
"You old darling!" she exclaimed; "of course the smile was at your
ideas about fox-hunting. I should be the most ungrateful creature
living if I could be capable of feeling anything but love and reverence
for your dear self. Yes, I have pushed your cap nearly off your head by
rushing at you and hugging you, after the manner of a bear. But never
mind. I will put you nicely to rights again. The cap was a wee bit on
one side before. I always have to straighten it about six times a day."
Mrs. Ellicott looked up at the fair face which was bending over her,
then drew it nearer still, and returned her niece's caress with more
gentleness but no less affection than Kathleen had shown.
"And you, Kathleen," she said, "only make believe that you have any
sympathy with those who follow a cruel custom. You like to see the gay
turn-out, the gallant pack, the daring riders, the eager horses, and
to note all the bonne camaraderie of the hunt. But there are other
cruelties inseparable from this sport, and one instance out of many
gave me a dislike to it which nothing can conquer. I shall never forget
how I felt when I heard the tale, years before you were born, my dear."
"What was it, aunt?"
"It was about the late earl's sister. She was a most daring huntress,
but professed to be very fond of her horses, one in particular, a
beautiful creature that was gentleness itself, and was petted like a
dog. In the excitement of the hunt, and when determined to be foremost
at the death of the miserable fox, she urged on the beautiful animal
by savage use of whip and spur, and compelled it to keep up a pace
which no horse could continue for long. When Lady Lois drew rein at
Hollingsby the animal reeled, and as her feet touched the ground he
fell dead. A few seconds in dismounting, and she would have been
crushed beneath her ill-used steed. She was just down in time to save
her life."
"How horrible! if the tale be really true," said Kathleen, turned for
the moment from contemplating her own special grievance.
"It is true, dear. There were eye-witnesses enough, and many would have
cried shame on a humbler rider. There was enough said, though, as Lady
Lois Holwynd was the culprit, people spoke with bated breath of her
fault, and found excuses for it in a louder key."
"She was young. Such a daring rider, and the very life of the hunt.
So generous in supporting it, so kind in many ways. Open-handed to a
fault. Thus people excused her; but though Lady Lois has passed away,
the memory of that day's cruelty abides, and will be talked of for many
a year to come."
Whilst Mrs. Ellicott was speaking, Kathleen was busily engaged in
replacing the refractory cap, and with gentle fingers pushing back
stray locks of the silvery hair which framed so fittingly the kind face
of her aunt.
"There now, you look a picture of tidiness. Kiss me for playing the
part of a deft lady's-maid, and putting you to rights again."
The kiss was given, but Mrs. Ellicott bade Kathleen remember that it
was not earned.
"My cap would have been all right but for your boisterous embrace,
Kitty, and having upset its equilibrium, you were bound to restore
it. However, darling, I shall never quarrel with you for being too
affectionate," a remark which resulted in another caress of a gentler
sort, and the application of Kathleen's hands to Mrs. Ellicott's head.
"Turn to the window, aunty, and look at the sunshine. It is positively
pouring in. That last heavy shower has cleared the sky, and there are
sheets of blue everywhere. All the labour I have bestowed on your
cap will be thrown away now, for you cannot refuse to drive in the
direction of Hollingsby. I do want to see all I can, though I must not
ride, I suppose?"
"You know, Kathleen, that it was your dear father's wish that you
should never take part in the Hollingsby Hunt, or even go to the meet
on horseback."
"I know that, aunt. I have surely been told it often enough. Now you
get ready for the drive. Let Cameron help you, and I will order the
carriage. I can be ready in three minutes. I will try and rout Ger from
her books, and make her come with us, or you might ask her on your way
upstairs."
Mrs. Ellicott rose to comply with both requests. She felt that Kathleen
must not be denied any reasonable pleasure, especially as the time was
not far distant when she would be her own mistress.
"I will speak to Geraldine, but I doubt if she will join us," she said.
"You propose, and I will second vigorously," said Kathleen, "when I
have interviewed old Mountain."
Away she tripped in the direction of the stables, being too impatient
to send her message to the coachman, who was by no means old, and who
worshipped his young mistress. She did not forget to take with her
some bread and an apple, wherewith to regale her own favorite mare,
Polly, whose head was at the bars the moment Kathleen's voice was heard
addressing Mountain.
"Get the horses in as quickly as possible," said Kathleen. "We will
drive towards Hollingsby, and see what we can. Don't I wish I might
ride you, my beauty!" she added, turning to Polly and patting her
arched neck with one hand, as she held out the other for the mare to
feed from.
Polly gave a little assenting neigh, and then put her velvet lips
forward to take the apple and bread—her special dainties.
"How gentle she is! A baby might feed her. Mountain, you do groom her
beautifully. Her coat is perfect; black, and shining like a rook's
plumage in the sunshine."
"She is a beauty, miss, and as good for go and temper as a lady's horse
should be. But then there'll be as good 'uns as Polly out to-day,
that'll come home with their sides bleeding and marked with lashes, in
spite of them doing their best. And as to their coats, they'll be that
muddy that you cannot tell the colour of 'em by more than half their
bodies. The other half is just clay itself."
"I would not hurt you, Polly. Your mistress would not mark you with
cruel spur or whip. But I must run, or aunt will be ready first. Take
this last bit, my pet."
Pushing another piece of bread between Polly's willing lips, Kathleen
raced back to the house, and ran panting to her room, where she quickly
made ready for her drive.
Her cousin Geraldine was not to be coaxed to join in the drive, so
Kathleen, after a brief hesitation, ran up another flight of stairs and
stretched herself on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of a spot where three
roads met. Most of the riders going to the meet would pass this point
on their way to Hollingsby, and Kathleen, though she would not have
owned it for the world, had placed herself at this coign of vantage in
hope of seeing one of them.
She did see more than one scarlet-coated horseman in the distance, but
without recognizing any. So she was quite sure that Captain Torrance
was not amongst them. She could not mistake another for him, or him for
another. Besides, he did not ride in scarlet. She had heard him say
that, having once put it off, he would never wear it again.
[Illustration: "DON'T I WISH I MIGHT RIDE YOU, MY BEAUTY!" SHE ADDED,
TURNING TO POLLY AND PATTING HER ARCHED NECK.]
Captain Torrance had worn a red coat until the colour had become
monotonous, and he was no longer in the army, though everybody still
gave him his old rank in speaking to or of him.
As Kathleen watched she was conscious that her face was all aflame with
blushes. She was ashamed of her eagerness to see the most daring member
of the Hunt, and one who was acknowledged to be the handsomest man in
that division of the shire. There were, however, wise old heads which
were shaken dubiously when Captain Torrance was named, and remarks were
made about looks not being everything. There were some, too, who could
tell tales about the captain's past career which were not altogether
to his credit; but most of these were whispered, for he was not a man
to be lightly made an enemy of. So such stories had never reached the
innocent ears of Kathleen Mountford, who was watching with more anxiety
than she owned to herself, for a glimpse of the handsome ex-captain of
dragoons.
"It is a perfect riding-lesson just to see how he sits that beautiful
hunter of his," she murmured, certain that no one was within hearing,
even if she did utter her thoughts aloud. "But why need I trouble
myself about riding-lessons? I know enough to guide Polly in such
jog-trot excursions as I am allowed to make. I can never understand why
my father imposed such restrictions on me. He was the dearest, kindest
of parents, I know, and I am sure he meant to make me happy, if he
could. But it is always the same. If a girl has money, some condition
is attached to it which crosses her in one aggravating way or another.
At one time she is bidden to marry a particular person whom she does
not know, and if she did, would be sure to hate him. At another she is
forbidden to marry the person whom she would choose from all the world.
Or she must live in a place she detests, or—"
At this moment Mrs. Ellicott's voice was heard calling—
"Kitty, where have you hidden yourself? You who boasted that you only
needed three minutes to dress in. I am ready, and Mountain is at the
door. I wonder you did not hear the carriage wheels."
"Coming, aunty," cried Kathleen, as she raced downstairs two steps at
a time. "Well, you have been expeditious. I was so certain that you
would be at least five minutes longer, that I ran to the west window at
the very top, to try and see what I could see. Result: a few streaks
of scarlet at the crossing, as a few riders shot past on their way to
Hollingsby. What a pity Geraldine will not leave her books to enjoy
such a drive as we shall have! It will be just lovely, and you will
like it as much as I shall. You cannot help it."
"I shall enjoy the drive, dear, of course, and Geraldine will find her
pleasure after her own fashion, so do not trouble about her, Kitty.
Who could have dreamed an hour ago that the country would look so
beautiful?"
Mrs. Ellicott might well cast admiring glances at the hedgerows and
the trees, on which autumn leaves still remained. Some were bare, but
on others there was quite a wealth of gorgeous colouring, made all the
more vivid by the lingering moisture which the recent rain had left.
Hip, haw, and bryony berries were all ablaze in the bright sunshine,
though differing in their shades of red. The tallest privet spikes were
mostly crowned with cones of shining berries, intensely black, and
perfect in shape. These seemed stretching above the other shrubs which
made up the hedges, as if challenging competition with the more gaudy
reds beneath.
Browns and yellows were not wanting on thorn and wild briar; and dusky
reds and flame colour were on maple bush and bramble leaf, with more
berries, shading from purple to black.
Green asserted its claims, as the glossy holly leaves shone out, draped
with lace which the spiders had flung across them to soften their
prickly stiffness. Draperies cunningly contrived to catch drops of rain
for the sun to shine upon, and turn into liquid diamonds.
As to the ivy! It was everywhere. Creeping slyly in hedge bottoms,
twisting fearlessly round bramble and briar, racing up the tallest
tree, and waving its flower chaplets high out of reach, as if daring
the boldest climber to rob it of its graceful coronets.
From many a bush and tree came the rich bold song of the robin, the
little musician putting himself well to the front, and looking round,
as he sang, with fearless eyes that seemed to defy the possibility of
his having an enemy, human or otherwise. Sights and sounds were alike
exhilarating. The clear blue overhead, and the freshness which had
followed the heavy rain, were all the more delightful, because a couple
of hours before the aspect of the sky had been so hopeless.
The horses seemed to have caught the infection from their surroundings,
and stepped out bravely, tossing their arched necks, as though
despising the muddy roads and extra dose of water in ruts and hollows.
Kathleen's face had been animated enough when she left home, but
something she saw soon after reaching the cross-roads already mentioned
brought a cloud to her brow. This was a Mrs. Stapleton, a neighbour
of hers, and only a few years older, who was evidently on her way,
not merely to witness the meet, but to share in the day's sport. She
nodded merrily to Kathleen as she passed, then made a little grimace
suggestive of pity for her girl neighbour, who was shut up in a
carriage, instead of sharing what she regarded as the real pleasure of
the day.
Kathleen could not suppress a sigh of mingled anger and disappointment
as the little cortège passed. Mrs. Stapleton's beautiful figure showed
to perfection on horseback, and her habit might have grown upon it, so
exact was the fit. The horse was worthy of its graceful rider. Beside
her rode her little daughter Blanche, a child of seven, and a miniature
of her mother. The little creature's face was full of glee, and she
evidently knew no fear, but sat her spirited pony as easily as any
older rider.
It was plain that Mr. Stapleton was at the meet breakfast, for the
groom in attendance led a fine powerful animal, ready saddled for his
master's use.
"Even little Blanche can ride her pony to Hollingsby," said Kathleen.
"It is horrid that I should see a child like that enjoying a pleasure
that I am forbidden. It would be something to ride Polly instead of
being imprisoned here on such a morning."
"Oh, my dear, you looked so bright when we started, that I really
thought you were going to enjoy the drive," said Mrs. Ellicott, in a
rueful tone.
"I meant to do so, aunty, and I know I am a horribly unthankful,
discontented creature, and I quite hate myself for showing such a
dog-in-the-manger spirit. I ought to be thinking of all the good things
I have, instead of mentally harping on my one grievance. I ought to put
on a cheery look and to talk pleasantly to you, who are always ready
to take the good and bad alike, instead of spoiling your drive by my
petulance. But when Mrs. Stapleton rode by, looking so perfect that
she might have sat for a model of Diana, and that little chit Blanche
tossed her head in triumph as she passed, I felt just as spiteful and
wicked as possible. I almost wished that mother and child might get a
good roll in the mud before the day was over, and—but I will not tell
you all the naughty thoughts that flashed through my mind. You know
what I am by long experience."
"I know, dear, that you are quick-tempered and impulsive, but I also
know that my dear Kitty is not capable of really wishing harm to any
human being. You say I take good and bad alike, but I do not. I have
many a fight with myself, and when that comes which I do not wish for,
and which brings sorrow along with it, I too have to fight hard against
a rebellious spirit. I have to seek strength, and ask for patience and
submission also, that I may be kept in mind of the fact, that whatever
befalls me can be overruled for good by Him who permits it to happen.
We might as well ask ourselves, 'What? Shall we receive good at the
hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?' Surely, my dear child,
your share of good things is large indeed."