A HEAVY PENALTY
CAPTAIN TORRANCE made no mistake when he spoke of the great beauty
of Kathleen Mountford's mother, and of its reproduction in the girl
herself.
Mrs. Mountford was under twenty when she became a wife. She was a poor,
but well-born Irish girl, named Kathleen Dillon, whom Mr. Mountford met
when he was past forty, and regarded by all his friends as a confirmed
bachelor. After a very short acquaintance the two were married, and he
proved a most devoted and indulgent husband to the young wife who was
less than half his own age.
Mrs. Mountford was proud of her conquest, and truly loved her husband,
but she was of an impetuous and somewhat wilful disposition. She would
often take advantage of Mr. Mountford's almost unlimited indulgence,
and liked to show that she had only to ask and to have, or to have
without the asking, whatever she set her mind upon, whether wisely
or otherwise. In time, however, Mr. Mountford realised that he might
be more truly kind in refusing than in granting some of his wife's
demands, and that her real happiness would be best furthered by the
exercise of his own sober judgment. Then followed a sort of struggle
for mastery. Mrs. Mountford had been so long used to follow the bent
of her own will, that she chafed under the slightest opposition.
Sometimes, when her silence led Mr. Mountford to think that she agreed
with him, she would take the first opportunity of setting his orders at
defiance. If he showed displeasure, she would try him sorely by keeping
out of his sight, or when in it, answering only by monosyllables and
resolutely declining to share in anything he might propose.
Probably Mrs. Mountford punished herself quite as much as she did her
husband. For, with her lively disposition and impetuosity of temper,
such a state of things was no light trial. A few hours of it, and her
lovely face would look like that of a troubled child. Her eyes would
fill with tears, her lips would tremble, and she would look at her
husband with an expression half penitent, half reproachful, as if
mutely asking—
"How can you be so cruel, and treat my little faults so seriously? I am
only a child compared with one who is so wise as you."
One pleading pitiful look from those wonderful eyes, and Mr. Mountford
was certain to yield unconditionally. His arms would be extended, the
young wife would fly to them, and as he clasped her to his breast she
would sob out complaints of his unkindness.
"You know I never want to vex you, Kenneth," she would say. "But I am
just a spoiled child, and you have helped to make me worse. You will
have to be ever so patient with me, and you know you ought to be,
because you are older, and so very wise. When you were so cross and
looked grave, I felt perfectly crushed. Oh, Kenneth, how could you be
so hard?"
Mr. Mountford might conscientiously feel that he had been anything but
cross or harsh, considering that his wife had deliberately disobeyed
commands which were wholly for her own good. He might be certain that
he was the injured party, that he ought to insist on obedience to his
will, especially when it involved no privation worth the name. But
his intense love for his wife made him as wax in her hands, and while
conscious that he had right on his side, he was full of remorse at the
thought of having pained a creature so loving and beautiful, and so
like a child in her wilfulness.
After such an outbreak there would be peace for a time. Home would be a
little heaven, blessed too, at length, with music of a kind unknown in
paradise, that of a baby voice.
The birth of Kathleen, which did not take place until three years
after her parents' marriage, brought added sunshine to the home. Mr.
Mountford had hoped for a son, but was more than satisfied with the
baby daughter whose face was a reflection of her mother's. Husband and
wife were more devoted to each other than ever, and during Kathleen's
early days Mrs. Mountford was willing to live more quietly, and gave
herself up without regret to the new sweet cares her child had brought
her. But when the little one was three, and there was no further
addition to her family, Mrs. Mountford began to resume her old life,
and longed for pleasures outside the sphere of home. Not that she
wearied of her little one, but her watchfulness over Kathleen only
occupied a small portion of her time, and she was incapable, owing
to differences in tastes and education, of entering into many of her
husband's pursuits.
Mr. Mountford was doubly indulgent, on account of the difference in age
between himself and his wife. He was older than his years, she younger
than hers, and he felt it alike a privilege and a duty to give her
every lawful pleasure natural to her youth, without considering himself
in any way.
Mrs. Mountford was a graceful, but somewhat daring rider, and her
husband had delighted to mount her in fitting fashion. The horse she
had ridden for a couple of years met with an accident, became lame, and
was condemned as unfit for her further use. A new one was bought, and
she was full of admiration at its appearance, and eager to try if its
other qualities equalled its looks.
"I shall try the new horse to-morrow morning, Kenneth," she said. "He
is rightly named Prince, for he is a magnificent animal. How good you
are to replace poor Rajah with such another royal quadruped! You must
have been sadly extravagant though, for I am sure only a high price can
have bought him."
Mrs. Mountford had risen from her seat, and was about to rush towards
her husband in her usual impulsive fashion, and pay him for his gift by
a shower of kisses. But a word stopped her on the way.
"Never mind the price, darling. If Prince suits you, he will be well
worth all I have paid for him. But you must not ride him for a day or
two. His temper must be well tested before I trust my treasure on his
back."
A shade of annoyance passed over Mrs. Mountford's face, and she
answered quickly, "Who so fit to test the horse's temper as myself? You
say he has been used to carrying a lady."
"They say so from whom I bought him, dear; but horse-dealers have been
known to conceal a fault which was not to be found out except on closer
acquaintance. If you were less precious to me, I should be less careful
of your safety, perhaps. Nay, I will not say that. I trust I should be
incapable of exposing any human being to risk of life. I would rather
peril my own."
"But, Kenneth, you know how I can ride. When I was a mere child, my
father would let me mount any horse he had, no matter what its temper,
and say, 'If Kitty cannot ride him, no one can.' I am not afraid either
of Prince or for myself."
"But I am afraid for you, my darling. Think now, if anything went wrong
for want of precaution on my part, what would become of our child and
me? The light of my life would be extinguished."
Mr. Mountford looked at his wife with a world of honest love in his
eyes, but his voice trembled at the bare thought of such a misfortune
as his words suggested.
"No fear, Kenneth. I can manage the horse well enough, and I mean to
try."
She answered with a glance of defiance, in no way moved by the tender
words, because they clashed with the indulgence of her own whim.
"You shall try, dear, as soon as I am satisfied that you can do so with
safety. And now come, darling, and pay me in your own sweet way for
your new steed."
Mrs. Mountford, however, hung back, and with a little impatient toss of
her head replied, "You know the old saying, Kenneth, 'There are only
two bad paymasters, those who pay in advance, and those who never pay
at all.' You must wait until Prince is mine, before you ask for his
price from me."
"I do not know how he can be more yours, seeing that I have paid for
him."
"He is yours no doubt, Kenneth. He will only be mine when I am
permitted to use him."
"Which shall be as soon as—" began Mr. Mountford, but his wife did not
wait for the rest of the sentence. Without even resuming her seat or
holding further conversation with her husband, she swept from the room.
If she had given one look behind her, the sight of Mr. Mountford's face
might have moved her. It was so full of sorrow, and all for herself.
He might well have been angry, for he had spent a large sum to give
her pleasure, and if he had bidden her stay her hand before taking
possession of Prince, it was only to insure her safety, and she well
knew this.
There was bitter disappointment, too, for the loving husband. The pair
had been much more united of late, and consequently, far happier.
Mrs. Mountford's old wilfulness had apparently softened down, and
she had manifested greater confidence in her husband's judgment, and
willingness to fall in with it.
Even in this moment of renewed trouble Mr. Mountford was chiefly
anxious for his wife's pleasure.
It was the eve of the great meet at Hollingsby, and, as on the morning
just described, the event of the season to which every one was looking
eagerly forward. Mr. Mountford knew the keen delight with which his
wife anticipated this gathering, and he had ever been proud to see her
the centre of admiring eyes, as they rode to Hollingsby together.
How disappointed she would be that the new purchase had come too late
for her to use! What could be done in the short time that remained?
Anything rather than she should not take her usual place.
A few moments' thought, and Mr. Mountford went to his wife's room to
tell her of his plan. She was not there, or in the nursery, and one of
the servants said, "Mrs. Mountford is out, sir. I don't think she's off
the place, for she wasn't dressed for a proper walk."
Mr. Mountford instinctively turned towards the stables, and met his
wife on the threshold.
"I have been looking at your new horse, Kenneth," she said. "He really
improves on acquaintance, so far as appearance goes," she added, with
marked emphasis on the last words.
Mr. Mountford noticed this, but made no comment.
"I have been thinking, dear, that you might ride my hunter to-morrow,
and I will take the other horse, which is as good in everything but
looks."
"I shall do nothing of the kind, Kenneth. I may be selfish, but I am
not so selfish as to deprive you of your usual mount. I shall not
accompany you to Hollingsby. Still, I must not forget my manners. Thank
you for offering me your animal."
Mrs. Mountford dropped a demure little curtsey, then turned towards
the house, without heeding whether her husband followed or not. She
had given him a fresh sting, she knew, but she was not in the mood to
care for having hurt his feelings. As to the husband, how could he help
being displeased?
"She must take her own wilful way," he decided. "For once she shall
punish herself; and I know it will be no light punishment for her to
stay away from the meet to-morrow."
Accordingly, Mr. Mountford made no further allusion to the subject; and
when the time came he left the house after an affectionate farewell, to
which his wife responded, as if she were perfectly contented to see him
set out alone. He did not notice the look of determination in her face,
or the mischievous light in her eyes. He was only glad that there were
neither tears nor reproaches.
A few minutes after his departure, the new horse, saddled and ready for
a lady's use, was led round by the groom, and Mrs. Mountford appeared
in riding-dress ready to mount it.
"I beg your pardon, madam," said the groom, touching his hat, "but are
you sure there's no mistake about taking this horse out? I hope I know
my place, but the master spoke so particular to me, and said the new
horse was on no account to be ridden by anybody without his orders."
"I am not anybody, James. I suppose you know that Prince has been
bought specially for my use, and naturally Mr. Mountford would not wish
it to be used by any one else. We talked about the animal last night,
and I told him I should try Prince this morning."
"Of course, madam, you know best, and if you and my master settled it,
no doubt it will be all right. He cannot blame me."
"Why should you be blamed for doing as I tell you?" asked Mrs.
Mountford sharply. "Have you ever been found fault with for obeying me?"
"No, madam. I would not have said a word, only the master was so very
particular in giving the order. He seemed anxious to make sure of
Prince's temper by more than hearsay. And besides, I never knew him
change his mind about any order he had given without letting me know,
until now, and I've lived fifteen years with him."
"When your master comes back you can ask him whether I told him or
not, that I should ride Prince this morning, and see what he will say
to you. Long service will hardly excuse your impertinence even in his
eyes. When I join him at the appointed place, I will prepare him for
your question."
"I've done it," said James, to a stable-boy who had listened
open-mouthed to the conversation, wondering the while how anybody dared
cross the mistress.
"She'll do you no harm. Everybody says that she just flies up for a
minute, and then it's all over."
"I didn't mean that I was afraid of the mistress. I'm only afraid that,
after all, I've done wrong in letting her have the new horse. I wish
I'd locked the stable door and set my back against it, and shouted the
master's orders straight at her, instead of doing as she told me. I
should be almost glad if she were to get a bit of a tumble, only it
would hurt him worse than her."
In the meanwhile Mrs. Mountford was taking a roundabout route to
Hollingsby, so as to approach the meeting-place by another entrance,
and not to arrive until after her husband. She had some qualms of
conscience, but Prince was so easy to ride, and looked such a perfect
animal, that the enjoyment was worth risking something for.
"Kenneth would feel angry at first, but—" and then a laugh followed
the thought, as Mrs. Mountford looked back on the many occasions when
the witchery of her ways, joined to his deep affection, had driven the
cloud from his brow, and in place of fault-finding, she had met with
loving words and caresses. At the worst he would only preach a little,
and she was used to that. He was the dearest, best of men, only anxious
about her, and graver of speech and ways, as was natural to one about
twenty years her senior.
Mr. Mountford was answering inquiries about his wife, and listening to
regrets on account of her absence, when a neighbour exclaimed, "Why,
Mountford, you said your wife was not coming. She is here, and what an
animal she is riding! A beauty to look at, but somehow I think I have
seen him before, and—"
The speaker hesitated, and Mr. Mountford, hiding the surprise and
indignation which agitated him, replied hastily, "She has changed her
mind and followed me. I hardly thought she would have trusted herself
on her new horse, and she refused to take mine, and let me ride
another." In an anxious whisper he added, "I hope you know nothing
against the animal. I had the best of characters with him, but he is
untried, so far as my ownership goes."
"I really am not sure that I know the horse," was the somewhat
hesitating reply. "In any case, if I ever saw him before, he had a lady
on his back, and with Mrs. Mountford's perfect horsemanship you can
hardly be anxious. She can ride anything."
Mr. Mountford thanked the speaker, and set out to join his wife. He was
justly displeased, but displeasure was overborne by anxiety, and all he
could think of was his wife's safety. She saw him coming, and, impelled
by a spirit of mischief, evaded him again and again, showing off her
horse and turning laughing glances at her friends, as if to invite them
to share in her amusement.
It would be useless to tell the thoughts which occupied Mr. Mountford's
mind. He felt powerless. He would not say a word which would betray the
real state of the case. He would watch over his wilful darling, and
hope for the best.
Later in the day that gay company saw a pitiful sight. A horse, with
the bit between his teeth, and a lady on his back, was tearing at
breakneck speed towards one of the most dangerous spots at which a leap
could be made.
An agonised husband was following as best he might, with the sense that
only a miracle could save his wife from death.
A little later still, and Mrs. Mountford lay a senseless heap on the
other side of a barrier from which the most daring riders had thought
it no shame to turn aside, and the horse was careering madly onward at
his will.
Mrs. Mountford was not killed, but beside several lesser injuries,
there was one to the spine, which rendered it improbable that she would
ever walk again. And what seemed almost more terrible to herself, her
eyes had come in contact with an outstretching bough, and all the skill
that could be brought to bear upon them would neither preserve nor
restore her sight.
Mr. Mountford's distress and self-reproach were sad to witness. It
might have been thought that he had little cause to blame himself,
seeing that he had striven to hedge his beautiful wife round from harm
in every possible way. But true love makes, if it cannot find, excuses
for the faults of its object, and is willing to share the blame, though
itself guiltless, and to endure the suffering which is the result of
them.
Whilst Mrs. Mountford's life was in danger her husband harassed himself
with undeserved reproaches.
"Knowing her temperament as I did, I ought not to have left her. She is
so young still, and what in the eyes of older people seems blamable, in
hers was a girlish frolic to be laughed over and readily forgiven. I
thought my orders to James were so positive that he would never dream
of disobeying them, and that she would be unable to ride Prince, if she
thought of doing so. But I forget that whilst I was head and master she
was mistress, and that I had never brooked disobedience to her orders.
If I had only stayed at home to watch over her, all would have been
well. She might have been angry and pouted a little, but I could have
borne these trifles, as I had often done before."
One thought brought an additional sting with it. Mr. Mountford had
ascertained by what arguments his wife had induced the groom to bring
out Prince for her use, and he knew that it was by an implied falsehood
she had succeeded.