THE JOURNEY.
On the following day Emmie, escorted by Vibert and attended by Susan,
started for her new home. Almost at the last moment Mr. Trevor found
that important business would, for another day, delay his own departure;
but all arrangements for the general move having been made, he would not
defer it, preferring for the single night to sleep at a hotel in London.
The bustle of departure took from its pain; Emmie left her dear old home
without a tear, though not without a sigh of regret. Vibert was in high
spirits, for novelty has its charm, especially to a temperament such as
his. Mr. Trevor had given to each of his sons a fishing-rod and a gun;
and Vibert was already, in imagination, a first-rate angler and
sportsman. It would have been difficult to have been dull in Vibert's
company during the journey. Sporting anecdotes, stories of adventures
encountered by others, and anticipations of future ones of his own,
interspersed with many a jest, amused not only Vibert's sister, but
their fellow-travellers in the same railway-carriage. The youth had none
of his elder brother's reserve, and took pleasure in attracting the
notice of strangers, having a pleasant consciousness that in his case
notice was likely to imply admiration also.
"That handsome lad seems to look on life as one long holiday, to be
passed under unclouded sunshine," thought a withered old gentleman, who
looked as if all his days had been spent in a fog. "Poor boy! poor boy!
he will soon be roused, by stern experience, from the pleasant dream in
which he indulges now!"
About half-an-hour before sunset, the train in which the Trevors were
making their journey approached the station of S----, the one at which
they were to alight.
"Your new pony-chaise is to meet us, Emmie, so papa arranged," observed
Vibert; "but it must be a commodious chaise if it is to accommodate four
persons, and all our lots of luggage. There are three boxes and a
carpet-bag of mine in the van, besides I know not how many of yours.
Then look here,"--Vibert glanced at the numerous et ceteras which showed
that the young travellers had understood how to make themselves
comfortable; "here's a shawl, and a rug, and foot-warmer, a basket, a
bag, three umbrellas, and a parasol, my hat-box, and a fishing-rod
besides! Are all to be stowed away in the chaise? If so, it will need
nice packing."
"Bruce was to order a fly," said Emmie.
"If he was to do it, he has done it," observed Vibert; "one may count
upon him as upon a church-clock. Now if I had had the arranging, I
should have been so much taken up with trying the new pony-chaise, that
I should have forgotten all about the old rattle-trap needed to carry
the boxes. I wish that we had riding-horses. I shall never give papa
peace till he buys me a hunter."
The shrill railway whistle gave notice of approach to a station; the
train slackened its speed, and then stopped; doors were flung open, and
a number of passengers soon thronged the platform of S----.
"There is Bruce; he is looking out for us!" cried Emmie, as she stepped
on the platform.
"Where is the pony-chaise?" asked Vibert, addressing his brother, who
immediately joined the party. Susan was left to collect, as best she
might, the numerous articles left in the railway-carriage.
"A lad is holding the pony just outside the station, and the fly is in
waiting also," was the answer of Bruce. "Where is the luggage, Vibert?
the train only stops for five minutes at S----."
"Susan will tell you all about it," cried Vibert; "I've a bag and three
boxes, one of them a gun-case, stowed away in the van. Mind that nothing
is missing. Come, Emmie, I must get you out of the crowd," and, drawing
his sister's arm within his own, Vibert rapidly made his way to the
outside of the station, where a pretty basket-chaise, drawn by a white
pony, was waiting.
"In with you, quick, Emmie!" cried Vibert, with the eager impatience of
one about to effect an escape. No sooner had the young lady taken her
seat than Vibert sprang in after her, seized the reins, caught up the
whip, and calling to the lad who had acted as hostler, "My brother will
pay you," gave a sharp cut to the pony, which made the spirited little
animal bound forward at a speed which raised a feeling of alarm in the
timorous Emmie.
"Stop, Vibert, stop! you must not drive off; you must wait for Bruce!"
she exclaimed.
"I'll wait for no one!" cried Vibert, still briskly plying the whip.
"Bruce would be wanting to drive; but this time he has lost the
chance,--ha! ha! ha! There's my brave little pony, does he not go at a
spanking pace?"
"I wish that you would not drive so fast, it frightens me!" cried Emmie.
"Frightens you! nonsense, you little coward! Don't you see that thick
bank of clouds in which the sun is setting? We'll have a thunderstorm
soon, and that will frighten you more."
"Oh, I hope and trust that the storm will not burst till we reach
shelter!" cried Emmie, whose dread of thunder and lightning is already
known to the reader.
"We are running a race with it, and we'll be at the winning-post first!"
exclaimed Vibert, who was enjoying the excitement, and who was rather
amused than vexed to see his sister's alarm.
"But, Vibert, you don't even know the way to Myst Court! Oh, I wish that
you had waited for Bruce!"
It had never occurred to the thoughtless lad that he might be driving in
a wrong direction; so long as the pony went as fast as Vibert wished, he
had taken it for granted that Myst Court would soon be reached. The
station had been left far behind; the road was lonesome and wild; only
one solitary boy was in sight; he was engaged in picking up boughs and
twigs which a recent gale had blown down from the trees which bordered
the way.
"We'll ask yonder bare-footed bundle of rags to direct us," said
Vibert, and he drew up the panting pony when he reached the spot where
the boy was standing.
"I say, young one, which is the way to Myst Court?" asked Vibert in a
tone of command.
The boy stared at him, as if unaccustomed to the sight of strangers.
"Are we on the right road to the large house where Mrs. Myers used to
live?" inquired Emmie.
"Ay, ay, but you'll have to turn down yon lane just by the stile there,"
said the urchin, pointing with his brown finger, and grinning as if a
chaise with a lady in it were a rare and curious sight.
"I don't believe that the rustic could have told us whether to turn to
left or right," said Vibert, as he whipped on the pony. "If he's a fair
specimen of my father's tenants, we shall feel as if we had dropped down
on the Fiji Islands."
The direction given by the finger was, however, perfectly clear, and the
Trevors were soon driving along a picturesque lane, where trees, still
gay with autumnal tints, overarched the narrow way, and with their brown
and golden leaves carpeted the sod beneath them.
"What a pretty rural lane!" exclaimed Emmie, as the chaise first turned
off from the high-road; but admiration was soon forgotten in discomfort
and fear. The lane was apparently not intended as a thoroughfare for
carriages, at least in the season of winter. The ground was miry and
boggy, and the pony with difficulty dragged the chaise. There were
violent jerks when one side or other dropped into one of the deep ruts
left by the wheels of the last cart that had passed that way. Vibert
plied the whip more vigorously than before, and silenced his sister's
remonstrances by remarking how darkly the clouds were gathering in the
evening sky. Young Trevor was but an inexperienced driver, and ever and
anon the chaise was jolted violently over some loose stones, or driven
so near to the hedge that Emmie had to bend sideways to avoid being
struck by straggling bramble or branch. She mentally resolved never
again to trust herself to Vibert's driving.
"Will this lane never come to an end?" exclaimed Emmie, as the first
heavy drop from an overshadowing mass of dark cloud fell on her knee.
She was but imperfectly protected from rain; for Vibert, in his haste to
dash off from the station before his brother could join him, had never
thought of taking with him either umbrella or shawl for his sister.
"Here comes the rain with a vengeance, and this stupid beast flounders
in the mud as if it were dragging a cannon instead of a chaise," cried
Vibert. "These country lanes drive one out of all patience! Ha! there's
the rumbling of distant thunder!"
"Oh! I trust that we shall reach home soon," exclaimed Emmie, who,
exposed to the heavy downpour, shivered alike from cold and from fear.
"I suspect that we shall never reach home at all by this lane," said
Vibert. "Take my word for it, that little wretch has directed us wrong;
I have a great mind to turn the pony round, and get back to the
high-road."
"You can't turn, the lane is too narrow; you would land us in the
hedge!" exclaimed Emmie, who thought that the attempt would inevitably
lead to an upset of the chaise. On struggled the steaming pony, down
poured the pattering rain; Vibert, almost blinded by the shower and the
gathering darkness, could scarcely see the road before him.
"The longest lane has a turning,--there is an opening before us at
last!" exclaimed the young driver, as a turn in the winding road brought
a highway to view. "We shall reach Myst Court like two drowned rats. Why
on earth did you not bring an umbrella, Emmie? I could not think of
everything at once." Vibert had, indeed, thought but of himself.
The want of an umbrella was to Emmie by no means the worst part of her
troubles; she was afraid that her brother had indeed been misdirected,
and that they might be lost and benighted in a part of the country
where they as yet were strangers, exposed to the perils of a
thunderstorm, from which the nervous girl shrank with instinctive
terror. Emmie had never hitherto even attempted to overcome her fear;
and though her uncle's words now recurred to her mind, the idea of
encountering a thunderstorm after nightfall, without even a roof to
protect her, put to flight any good resolutions that those words might
have roused in her mind.
"There was a flash!" exclaimed Emmie, starting and putting her hands
before her eyes. She pressed closer to her brother as if for protection.
"We shall have more soon; the storm comes nearer," was the little
comforting reply of Vibert. As he ended the sentence, the thunder-clap
followed the flash. The pony pricked up his ears, and quickened his
pace.
"I am glad that we are out of this miserable mouse-hole at last," cried
Vibert, pulling the left rein sharply as the light vehicle emerged from
the narrow, miry lane into the broad and comparatively smooth highway.
At this moment the darkening landscape was suddenly lighted up by a
flash intensely bright, followed almost immediately by a peal over the
travellers' heads. The terrified Emmie shrieked, and, losing all
presence of mind, caught hold of her brother's arm. The sharp turning
out of the lane, the pony's start at the flash, and the sudden grasp on
the driver's arm, acting together, had the effect which might have been
expected. Down went pony and chaise, down went driver and lady,
precipitated into the ditch which bordered the high-road.