A SHAFT FROM CUPID'S QUIVER.
It was fully ten o'clock, and the hunting-party were ready to start,
when Sir Everard Kingsland joined them, looking handsome and happy as a
young prince in his very becoming hunting costume.
Of course the young baronet's first look was for Lady Louise--he
scarcely glanced at the rest. She was just being assisted into the
saddle by the devoted George Grosvenor, but she turned to Sir Everard
and graciously held out her gauntleted hand.
"Once more," she said, "almost late. Laggard! I shall quarrel with
you one of these days if you do not learn to be more punctual."
"You will never have to reproach me again," he said. "Had I known you
would have honored my absence by a thought, you should not have had to
reproach me now."
"Very pretty, indeed, Sir Everard. But don't waste your time paying
compliments this morning. Thanks, Mr. Grosvenor; that will do. For
whom are you looking, Sir Everard? Lady Carteret? Oh, she is going to
see as much of the fun as she can from the carriage, with some other
ladies. Miss Hunsden and myself are the only ones who intend to ride.
By the way, I hope Sir Galahad will uphold his master's reputation
to-day. He must do his very best, or Whirlwind will beat him."
At that instant a red-coated young gentleman joined them, in an evident
state of excitement.
"I say, Kingsland, who's that girl on the splendid roan? She sits
superbly, and is stunningly handsome besides. I beg your pardon, Lady
Louise--perhaps you know."
"Lord Ernest Strathmore is excited on the subject. That young lady is
Miss Harriet Hunsden. Don't lose your head, my lord. One gentleman
possesses that heart, and all the rest of you may sigh in vain."
"Indeed! And who is the fortunate possessor?"
"Captain Hunsden, her father."
At the first mention of her name Sir Everard Kingsland had turned
sharply around and beheld--his fate. But he did not know it. He only
saw a handsome, spirited-looking girl, sitting a magnificent roan horse
as easily as if it had been an arm-chair, and talking animatedly to a
stalwart soldierly man with white hair and mustache.
As he glanced away from his prolonged stare he met the piercing gaze of
Lady Louise's turquoise-blue eyes.
"_Et tu, Brute_?" she cried gayly. "Oh, my prophetic soul! Did I not
warn you, Sir Everard? Did I not foretell that the dashing damsel in
the scarlet habit would play the mischief with your fox-hunting hearts?
No, no! never deny the soft impeachment! But I tell you, as I told
Lord Ernest, it is of no use. She is but seventeen, and 'ower young to
marry yet.'"
Before Sir Everard could retort, the cry of "Here they come!"
proclaimed the arrival of the hounds.
The hounds were put into the gorse, and the red-coats began to move out
of the field into the lane, Sir Everard and Lady Louise with them.
A loud "Halloo!" rang through the air; the hounds came with a rushing
roar over a fence.
"There he is!" cried a chorus of voices, as the fox flew over the
ground.
And at the same instant Whirlwind tore by like its namesake, with the
handsome girl upright as a dart. Away went Sir Galahad, side by side
with the roan. Lady Louise and her sedate nag were left hopelessly
behind.
On and on like the wind Whirlwind flew the fences, and Miss Hunsden sat
in her saddle like a queen on her throne.
The young baronet, even in the fierce heat of the hunt, could see the
beautiful glowing face, the flashing gray eyes, and the lances of light
flickering in the gold-brown hair. Side by side Sir Galahad and
Whirlwind darted to the end of the fourth inclosure.
Then came a change--a wall of black, heavy thorn rose ahead, which no
one was mad enough to face.
The baronet pulled his bay violently to the right and looked to see the
dashing huntress follow. But, no; the blood of Miss Hunsden and the
"red-roan steed" was up, and straight they went at that awful pace.
"For God's sake, Miss Hunsden!" cried the voice of Lord Ernest
Strathmore, "don't try that!"
But he might as well have spoken to the cataract of Niagara. With a
tremendous rush Whirlwind charged the place. There was a horrible
crash--another--and a plunge downward.
Sir Everard turned sick with horror; but Whirlwind settled into his
stride, and the girl recovered her balance in the very instant, and
away again like the wind.
"Splendidly done, by Jove!" cried Lord Ernest. "I never saw a lady
ride before like that in all my life."
Sir Everard dashed on. His horse was on his mettle; but, do what he
would, the slender, girlish figure, and superb roan kept ahead.
Whirlwind took hedges and ditches before him, disdaining to turn to the
right or left, and after a sharp run of an hour, Miss Hunsden had the
glory and happiness of being one of the few up at the finish in time to
see the fox, quite dead, held over the huntsman's head, with the hounds
hanging expectant around.
Every eye turned upon the heroine of the hour, and loud were the
canticles chanted in her honor. The master of the hounds himself rode
up, all aglow with admiration.
"Miss Hunsden," he said, "I never in all my life saw a lady ride as you
rode to-day. There are not half a dozen men in Devonshire who would
have faced those fences as you did. I sincerely hope you will
frequently honor our field by your presence and matchless riding."
Miss Hunsden bowed easily and smiled.
And then her father came up, his soldierly old face aglow.
"Harrie, my dear, I am proud of you! You led us all to-day. I
wouldn't have taken that nasty place myself, and I didn't believe even
Whirlwind could do it."
Then George Grosvenor and Lord Ernest and the rest of the men crowded
around, and compliments poured in in a deluge.
Sir Everard held himself aloof--disgusted, nauseated--or so he told
himself.
"Such an unwomanly exhibition! Such a daring, masculine leap! And see
how she sits and smiles on those empty-headed fox-hunters, like an
Amazonian queen in her court! How different from Lady Louise! And
yet! good heavens! how royally beautiful she is!"
"Alone, Kingsland?" exclaimed a voice at his elbow; and glancing around
he saw Lord Carteret. "What do you think of our pretty Di Vernon? You
don't often see a lady ride like that. Why don't you pay your
respects? Don't know her, eh? Come alone; I'll present you."
Sir Everard's heart gave a sudden plunge, quite unaccountably. Without
a word he rode up to where the gray-eyed enchantress held her magic
circle.
"Harrie, my dear," said the elderly nobleman, "I bring a worshiper who
hovers aloof and gazes in speechless admiration. Let me present my
young friend, Sir Everard Kingsland, Miss Hunsden."
Sir Everard took off his hat, and bent to his saddle-bow.
"Sir Everard Kingsland!" cried Captain Hunsden, cordially. "Son of my
old friend, Sir Jasper, I'll be sworn! My dear boy, how are you? I
knew your father well. We were at Rugby together, and sworn
companions. Harrie, this is the son of my oldest friend."
"Papa's friends are all mine!"
The voice was clear and sweet as the beaming eyes. She held out her
hand with a frank grace, and Sir Everard took it, its light touch
thrilling to the core of his heart.
Sir Everard Kingsland rode back to Carteret Park beside the Indian
officer and his daughter as a man might ride in a trance. Surely
within an hour the whole world had been changed! He rode on air
instead of solid soil, and the sunshine of heaven was not half so
brilliant as Harriet Hunsden's smile.
"Confess now, Sir Everard," she said, "you were shocked and
scandalized. I saw it in your face. Oh, don't deny it, and don't tell
polite fibs! I always shock people, and rather enjoy it than
otherwise."
"Harriet!" her father said, reprovingly. "She is a spoiled madcap, Sir
Everard, and I am afraid the fault is mine. She has been everywhere
with me in her seventeen years of life--freezing amid the snows of
Canada and grilling alive under the broiling sun of India. And the
result is--what you see."
"The result is--perfection!"
"Papa," Miss Hunsden said, turning her sparkling face to her father,
"for Sir Everard's sake, pray change the subject. If you talk of me,
he will feel in duty bound to pay compliments; and really, after such a
fast run, it is too much to expect of any man. There! I see Lady
Louise across the brook yonder. I will leave you gentlemen to
cultivate one another. _Allons, messieurs_!"
One fleeting, backward glance of the bewitching face, a saucy smile and
a wave of the hand, and Whirlwind had leaped across the brook and
ambled on beside the sober charger of Lady Louise.
"Every one has been talking of your riding, Miss Hunsden," Lady Louise
said. "I am nearly beside myself with envy. Lord Ernest Strathmore
says you are the most graceful equestrienne he ever saw."
"His lordship is very good. I wish I could return the compliment, but
his chestnut balked shamefully, and came home dead beat!"
Lord Ernest was within hearing distance of the clear, girlish voice,
but he only laughed good-naturedly.
"As you are strong, be merciful, Miss Hunsden. We can't all perform
miracles on horseback, you know. I came an awful cropper at that ugly
hedge, to be sure, and your red horse went over me like a blaze of
lightning! You owe me some atonement, and--of course you are going to
the ball to-night?"
"Of course! I like balls even better than hunting."
"And she dances better than she rides," put in her father, coming up.
"She is perfection in everything she undertakes, I am certain," Lord
Ernest said, "and for that atonement I speak of, Miss Hunsden, I claim
the first waltz."
They rode together to Carteret Park. Sir Everard had the privilege of
assisting her to dismount.
"You must be fatigued, Miss Hunsden," he said. "With a ball in
prospective, after your hard gallop, I should recommend a long rest."
"Sir Everard, I don't know the meaning of that word 'fatigue.' I never
was tired in my life, and I am ready for the ball to-night, and a
steeple-chase to-morrow."
She tripped off as she spoke, with a mischievous glance. She wanted to
shock him, and she succeeded.
"Poor girl!" he thought, as he slowly turned homeward, "she is really
dreadful. She never had a mother, I suppose, and wandering over the
world with her father has made her a perfect savage. She is truly to
be pitied--so exceedingly beautiful as she is, too!"
Sir Everard certainly was very sorry for that hoidenish Miss Hunsden.
He thought of her while dressing for dinner, and he talked of her all
through that meal "more in sorrow than in anger."
Sybilla Silver, quite like one of the family already, listened with
greedy ears and eager black eyes.
"You ought to call, mother," the baronet said, "you and Mildred.
Common politeness requires it, Captain Hunsden was my father's most
intimate friend, and this wild girl stands sadly in need of some
matronly adviser."
"I remember Captain Hunsden," Lady Kingsland said, thoughtfully, "and I
remember this girl, too, when she was a child of three or four years.
He was a very handsome man, I recollect, and he married away in Canada
or the United States. There was some mystery about that
marriage--something vague and unpleasant--no one knew what. She ought
to be pretty, this daughter."
"Pretty!" Sir Everard exclaimed; "she is beautiful as an angel! I
never saw such eyes or such a smile in the whole course of my life."
"Indeed!" his mother said, coldly--"indeed! Not even excepting Lady
Louise's?"
"Oh, Lady Louise is altogether different! I didn't mean any
comparison. But you will see her to-night at Lady Carteret's ball, and
can judge for yourself. She is a mere child--sixteen or seventeen, I
believe."
"And Lady Louise is five-and-twenty," said Mildred, with awful accuracy.
"She does not look twenty!" exclaimed my lady, sharply. "There are few
young ladies nowadays half so elegant and graceful as Lady Louise."
Miss Silver's large black eyes glided from one to the other with a
sinister smile in their shining depths. Her soft voice broke in at
this jarring juncture and sweetly turned the disturbed current of
conversation, and Sir Everard understood, and gave her a grateful
glance.
The young baronet had gone to many balls in his lifetime, but never had
he been so painfully particular before. He drove Edward, his valet, to
the verge of madness with his whims, and left off at last in sheer
desperation and altogether dissatisfied with the result.
"I look like a guy, I know," he muttered, angrily, "and that pert
little Hunsden is just the sort of girl to make satirical comments on a
man if his neck-tie is awry or his hair unbecoming. Not that I care
what she says; but one hates to feel he is a laughing-stock."
The ball-room was brilliant with lights, and music, and flowers, and
diamonds, and beautiful faces, and magnificent toilets when the
Kingsland party entered.
Lady Carteret, in velvet robes, stood receiving her guests. Lady
Louise, with white azaleas in her hair and dress, stood stately and
graceful, looking from tip to toe what she was the descendant of a race
of "highly-wed, highly-fed, highly-bred" aristocrats.
But at neither of them Sir Everard glanced twice. His eyes wandered
around and lighted at last on a divinity in a cloud of misty white,
crowned with dark-green ivy leaves aglitter with diamond drops.
While he gazed, Lord Ernest Strathmore came up, said something, and
whirled her off in the waltz. Away they flew. Lord Ernest waltzed to
perfection, and she--a French woman or a fairy only could float like
that.
A fierce, jealous pang griped his heart; a second, and they were out of
sight. Sir Everard roused himself from his trance and went up to his
hostess to pay his respects.
"Ah!" Lady Carteret said, a little spitefully, "the spell is broken at
last! There was no mistaking that look, Sir Everard! My dear Lady
Kingsland"--laughing, but malicious still--"take care of your son. I'm
afraid he's going to fall in love."