The party stood, nonplussed. Frank was first to show signs of recovery,
and, after a moment of completely dazed astonishment, advanced to Madge
with hand outstretched. Her appearance, astonishing as it had been, had
been as great a relief as he had ever known in all his life. Neb's worry
and insubordination had filled him with the keenest apprehension. But he
had no doubts of Madge. If she had been there with the mare, the mare
was certainly all right, no matter how puzzling the affair might seem to
be upon its surface.
"Why, little one, this is, indeed, a great surprise and pleasure!" he
exclaimed, with sincere gallantry.
Madge looked at him with doubtful eyes, from which the doubt, however,
was fast clearing. "Oh, say; are you-uns r'ally glad to see me?"
"No one could be more welcome," he assured her, and the honest pleasure
in his eyes convinced her that he did not speak for mere politeness'
sake.
And now Miss Alathea, recovering from the shock of all that had preceded
the girl's unexpected appearance, went to her cordially. "We are more
than glad, my child," she told her.
"Glad's no name for it," the gallant Colonel said, advancing in his
turn.
There could be no doubt of the sincerity of any one who, thus far, had
expressed a welcome for her; but the voice which now came coldly from
Miss Barbara was less convincing. She did not approach the mountain
girl, but sat somewhat superciliously upon a bench and spoke frigidly.
"It is an unexpected pleasure."
Madge, not trained to hide her feelings under softened words, turned on
her angrily. "Humph! I wasn't askin' you," she said. Then, to the
others: "I didn't know but what my droppin' in, permiskus like--"
"A Kentuckian's friends," said Frank, "are always welcome."
"Friends from the word go, remember," said the Colonel.
"Thankee, Colonel," said the girl. "We'll have that race, some day; but
I won't ride agin you if you ride Queen Bess. Oh, wouldn't I like to see
her go!"
"So you shall," said Frank. "Neb, is she ready?"
"Yessuh; all saddled, sur, an' bridled."
"Oh, let me bring her out," cried Madge. "I'd love to."
"Lawsy, honey," said the negro, "you couldn't bring her out. She's dat
fretful an' dat nervous dat she'd kill yo', suah."
"Get out, Neb!" Madge cried, scornfully. "I ain't afeard of her. Wild
things allays has made friends with me. I've never seen a horse so
skeery that I couldn't manage him--couldn't make him foller me."
She pushed the hesitating Neb out of her path and went into the stable.
Layson, who was for the moment, at a distance, had not heard all her
talk with Neb, but saw her as she went into the stall where none but he,
himself, and Neb, dared go, and it was stable talk that, soon or late,
Queen Bess would prove to be a man killer!
"Neb, stop her! She'll be killed!" he cried.
Neb ran, as fast as his old legs would carry him, into the stable; Frank
hurried to the stable door.
"Madge! Madge!" he cried, and then: "Why--look! The mare is following
her as might a kitten!"
He stepped aside and Madge came from the stable with Queen Bess behind
her, ears pricked forward eagerly as she kept her eyes on Madge's pursed
up, cooing lips, head dropped, neck stretched in graceful fashion,
lifting her dainty feet as proudly as ever did the queen whom she was
named for.
"Come on, you beauty!" the girl cried. "Oh, it would be like heaven to
ride you; and I could do it, too!"
"Take her to the track, Neb," Layson ordered. "I'll follow and give her
her exercise."
Madge, unable to resist the impulse which was thrilling her with
longing, motioned Neb away as he approached to take the mare. "Go 'way!
Go 'way!" she said. Then, to the mare: "Come on, you dear, come on." She
went on slowly, while the mare, in calm docility, trailed after her. The
spectators, who knew the beast, gazed spellbound.
Constantly the girl's pleased eyes were on the beautiful creature
following. Never had she seen so perfect an animal; never had she known
one giving such plain signs of high intelligence. The mare's big eyes,
broad forehead, delicate muzzle, arching neck, strong withers, mighty
flanks, and slender ankles marked her, to the veriest novice, a
thoroughbred of thoroughbreds; her docile and obedient march showed what
seemed like an almost magic power in the delighted mountain maid. Every
drop of blood in the girl's body tingled with excitement, all her
muscles thrilled with mad desire to mount the wondrous beast and be away
as on the wind's wings. She could imagine what the mare's long strides
would be, she could imagine how exhilerating she would find the steady,
perfect motion of the mighty back.
"Oh, I can't stand it!" she exclaimed, at length. "I've got to do it!"
She paused, and eagerly the mare stepped up to her, nuzzleing her
caressing hand. Then, with a bound, the girl was on the graceful
creature's back, landing in her place as lightly as a wind-blown
thistle-down, as gracefully as a fairy horsewoman.
"Heavens!" cried Barbara. "She's on Queen Bess!"
"She'll be killed!" Miss Alathea screamed, in terror.
The Colonel, only, recognized her instantly as a born horsewoman. His
expert eye observed with rare delight the ease with which she mounted,
the perfect poise with which she found her seat, the absolute adjustment
of her lithe young motions to the movements of the mare beneath her from
the very moment she had reached her back.
"No danger; she rides like a centaur."
With the others he had stopped, with eyes for nothing but the girl
before them and the splendid animal she rode. "Ah, what a jockey she
would make!"
Barbara liked this exhibition of the mountain girl's abilities no better
than she had liked anything which Madge had done. Her lip curled
somewhat scornfully. "What a pity that her sex should bar her from that
vocation!" she said coldly.
She turned to Frank, who was watching Madge with startled eyes, worried
as to the result of this mad prank on both the girl and mare.
"Frank," said Barbara, "what a figure she will make to-night at your
lawn-party! How your friends will laugh at her!"
Layson cast a quick, sharp glance at her. She was not advancing her own
cause by trying, thus, to ridicule the mountain maiden. "I'll run the
risk," he said. "She is my guest, you know, and, as such, will surely be
given every consideration and courtesy by all."
"Oh, certainly," said Barbara, seeing that she had gone, perhaps, too
far. "If you wish it. I should be glad to please you, once again."
"Nothing could please me more than to have you show her what kindnesses
you can. I know she will feel strange and worried."
Madge, sitting Queen Bess with an ease and grace which that intelligent
mare had never found in any other rider, and, now, far from them at the
other end of the great training-field, absorbed the youth's delighted
glances.
"Can't you forget her for an instant?" exclaimed Barbara. "You haven't
been at all the same since you came back from the mountains! Once we
were always together. Now I never see you unless I come over here; and
no matter what I do, you don't seem to care."
Layson was uneasy. He had been aware, for a long time, that, sooner or
later, a complete understanding of his changed feelings toward this
girl, must, in some way, be accomplished. Now seemed a good time for
it, yet he hesitated at the thought of it. But the thing had to be gone
through with. "I know I used to play the tyrant, Barbara; but it wasn't
a pleasant role, and I was always half-ashamed of it."
The girl flared into a passion. "What do you mean?"
"Barbara, I have had no right to go so far, no right to ask so much of
you. From the bottom of my heart I beg forgiveness. Let us forget it all
and just be friends again." And, even as he spoke, his eyes were
wandering toward the girl whom Queen Bess had so utterly surrendered to.
The mare, known since she had first been saddled, as a terror to all
riders, was carrying her as gently as the veriest country hack had ever
borne an old lady from the farm to market.
Barbara saw where his attention was, and resentment thrilled her.
"Friends? Never! Frank Layson, I believe I hate you!"
"Oh, very well," said he, plainly not too much impressed, "if you want
to be unreasonable, why, of course--"
The girl was frightened at the length to which she had permitted her
ill-temper to carry her. "Oh, no, Frank," she hastily corrected, "I
didn't mean that. Of course I am your friend."
"Thank you, Barbara," said he, with a calmness which was maddening to
her. "I am sure we understand each other, now." And then, still further
maddening her: "I must go now, and look after Madge and dear Queen
Bess. I never should forgive myself if anything should happen to the
girl. But nothing will. See how splendidly she rides!"
The girl upon the horse, as if conscious of his anxiety about her, now
turned her mount back toward the field-end where the onlookers were
loosely grouped and came toward them at a slow and gentle canter--a gait
which none had ever seen Queen Bess take before, when a stranger was
upon her back. She leaped from the mare by Layson's side, and Neb, ever
anxious for the welfare of his equine darling, began work without delay
at rubbing Queen Bess down.
"Reckon you'll never forgive me," Madge apologized to Layson, "but I
just couldn't help it. Never even saw a mare like her, afore. My pony's
no-whar alongside of her. I felt like an angel sittin' on a cloud an'
sailin' straight to heaven!" She turned and petted the black beauty.
"Oh, you darling!"
"Got to take her in, now," Neb said, preparing to lead the mare away. He
spoke apologetically as if the girl had rights which, now, should be
consulted. He had never made a like concession in the past to anyone
except his master.
"Go 'way, go 'way," said Madge, taking the reins from his black hand.
"Ain't no use o' leadin' her--you jest watch her foller me!"
She looped the reins about the mare's arched neck, started off, and,
without so much as flicking her long tail, Queen Bess fell in behind,
obedient to her cooing, murmurous calls.
Frank laughed. "If," he said to the whole party, "you wish to have a
look at the mare's quarters, I think Neb will now admit us."
All but the Colonel started toward the stable, but he hesitated, looking
toward Miss Alathea. While the others had been spellbound by the girl
and horse, he, the most enthusiastic horseman of them all, had been
divided in attention between them and the lady whose notice he
attracted, now, by means of sundry hems and haws.
"Miss 'Lethe, just a moment," he said softly. She paused and then went
up to him. He held out a newspaper, suddenly at a loss for words, now
that there was a prospect of a moment with her wholly uninterrupted.
"Here," said he, a little panicky, "is a full account of the revival,
sermon and all. Make your hair stand on end to read it."
She took the paper, undeceived by his small subterfuge to gain
attention, but interested, as she always was in such things, in the
account of the revival. "This really is interesting." She sat down on
the bench, as they reached the stable-yard again, and pored above the
newspaper.
In the meantime the Colonel tried to screw his courage to the sticking
point. "Colonel Sandusky Doolittle," he adjured himself, "if you don't
say it now, then you forever hold your peace, that's all!" He went to
his buggy, which had been brought to the stable yard, and from
underneath its seat took a box containing a bouquet of sweet,
old-fashioned flowers. Miss Alathea, absorbed in the account of the
revival, did not notice him at all. "This will do the business," he
reflected. "Now, Sandusky Doolittle, keep cool, keep cool!" Nervously,
as he gazed at her, his fingers worked among the flowers, dismembering
them unconsciously. "A Kentucky Colonel," he was saying to himself in
scorn, "afraid of a woman!" His fingers tore the flowers with new
activity as his nervousness increased, making sad work with the
magnificent bouquet. "Of course she is an angel," he reflected, and
then, with a grim humor, "or will be before I ask her, if I wait another
twenty years! But I shall ask her, I shall ask her!" He stepped toward
her boldly, but paused before her in a wordless panic when he had
approached within a yard. "Heavens!" he thought. "My heart is going at a
one-forty gait and the jockey's lost the reins. I'll be over the fence
in another minute if I don't hold tight! But I have got to do it, this
time." He dropped the stems of the flowers, still bound together by
their lengths of wide white ribbon, into the elaborate box from which,
so lately, he had taken them in their uninjured beauty, not noting the
sad wreck which his too nervous fingers had produced, put on the cover
and approached still nearer. With the box held toward her bashfully, he
managed, then, another step or two. "Miss 'Lethe," he said stammering,
"lawn party to-night--bouquet for you--brought it from Lexington--for
you--for you, you know."
The Colonel never was embarrassed save when he was endeavoring to
propose marriage to Miss Alathea and he always was embarrassed then. She
recognized the situation from the mere tone of his voice and looked up
hopefully.
"Oh, Colonel, how kind!" said she, as she held delighted hands out for
the box. "I know it is beautiful."
"It was quite the best I could do, Miss 'Lethe," said the Colonel.
"You have such splendid taste! I'm sure it's lovely." She opened the box
and looked, expectantly, within. "Why, Colonel," she cried,
disappointed, "where are--where are the flowers?"
"Why--why--why," he stammered, and then saw the mutilated blossoms on
the ground around him. "Why, I don't know--don't know," said he. "'Don't
ask me."
She was rummaging among the stems, nonplussed. "Why, here's a note!" she
said.
"Thank heaven!" the Colonel thought, "the note's there yet!" Then,
growing bold: "Miss 'Lethe, if you've a kindly feeling for me in your
heart, read that note; but don't you get excited; keep cool, keep cool!"
"Why, certainly," said she. "I see no cause for excitement." She
unfolded the note and read, aloud, and very slowly, for the Colonel's
hand was not too easy to decipher. "'My dear, dear Miss 'Lethe: Woman
without her man is a savage.'" She looked up, naturally astonished by
this unusual statement. "Why, Colonel," she exclaimed, "what can you
mean by saying woman is a savage without her man?"
He stood appalled for just a second and then realized the error into
which his ardor had misled him. "Great Scott!" he cried. "I forgot to
put in the commas! It ought to read this way: 'Woman, without her, man
is a savage.' Go on, Miss 'Lethe, please go on."
She read again: "'I feel that it is time for me to become civilized--in
other words, to come in out of the wet. To me you have been, for twenty
years, the embodiment of woman's truth, purity and goodness. But
constitutional timidity and chronic financial depression, due to the
race-track, have hitherto kept me silent.'" Miss 'Lethe looked up at him
with a strange expression on her face. "Colonel," she exclaimed, "what
does this mean?"
"Go on, Miss 'Lethe," was the answer, "please go on, go on." He made a
mighty effort to secure control of his unruly nerves, and, almost
unconsciously, while her head was bent above the note, took a small
flask from his pocket and imbibed from it. It steadied him.
She read again: "'I am convinced that my interest in the company will
yield me a competence; accordingly, behold me at your feet!'"
Miss 'Lethe looked down somewhat mischievously. She did not see the
Colonel where his note declared he would be. She glanced again at the
paper in her hands and saw a word which, at first, had quite escaped
attention. "'Metaphorically,'" she read, and then the signature:
"'Colonel Sandusky Doolittle.'"
"Colonel!" she exclaimed.
"Miss 'Lethe," he replied, and, discovering that the flask was still in
plain view in his hand, slipped it into his sidepocket upside down.
"Colonel, put that bottle right side up and listen to me," she said
calmly. "Do you really love me?"
"Do I love you? With a fervor--er--a--passion--er--will you excuse me if
I smoke?" He took a black cigar from his vest pocket, in another effort
to control his nerves, and lighted it as might an automatic smoker.
"I am going to put you to the proof," said she. "Could you, for my sake,
come down from ten cigars a day to five?"
The Colonel was dismayed. "To five cigars a day! Impossible!" He caught
himself. That scarcely was the way to answer the request of the woman he
adored so fervently. "I mean," he hastily corrected, "is--is that all?"
He made a motion as if to throw away the weed he had just lighted, but
thought better of it. "I will make the descent to-morrow," he said
earnestly.
"Could you restrict yourself to three mint-julips, daily?"
"Three! A man couldn't live on three! He'd have to--have to take such
poisons as--as cold water into his system."
"Remember, Colonel, I would mix them."
"That settles it! Three goes!" He fervently reached toward her, plainly
planning to embrace her.
"Wait, Colonel," she exclaimed, "there is one more condition. Could you,
for my sake, promise never to enter another race-track?"
He started back from her in horror. "Never enter another race-tack! I,
Colonel Sandusky Doolittle, known everywhere, from Maine to California,
as a plunger, give up the absorbing passion of my life!"
"Remember what you said to Frank," said she. "'It's a delusion and a
snare.' But, of course, if you think more of a delusion than you do of
me--"
"No; hang it!" cried the Colonel, "I think more of you. Twenty
years--the longest race on record and a win in sight! I'll not lose by a
balk at the finish! I promise you, Miss 'Lethe, on the honor of a
Kentuckian."
"Then, Colonel, I must confess, I have loved you, also, for every one
of those long twenty years."
"Twenty years!" He turned his head aside and muttered: "What a damned
fool I have been!" Then, to her, he said, exultantly: "Aha! A neck
ahead!"
It is difficult to say what would have happened, then, if Madge, Holton,
Barbara and Frank had not come from the stable, chattering about Queen
Bess.