LEARNING TO RIDE.
Lord Dorincourt had occasion to wear his grim smile many a time as the
days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson
progressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when it
almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that before Lord
Fauntleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very
tired of his loneliness and his gout and his seventy years, but when he
saw the lad, fortunately for the little fellow, the secret pride of the
grandfather was gratified at the outset. And then when he heard the lad
talk, and saw what a well-bred little fellow he was, notwithstanding his
boyish ignorance of all that his new position meant, the old Earl liked
his grandson more, and actually began to find himself rather
entertained. It had amused him to give into those childish hands the
power to bestow a benefit on poor Higgins. Then it had gratified him to
drive to church with Cedric and to see the excitement and interest
caused by the arrival. My lord of Dorincourt was an arrogant old man,
proud of his name, proud of his rank, and therefore proud to show the
world that at last the House of Dorincourt had an heir who was worthy of
the position he was to fill.
The morning the new pony had been tried the Earl had been so pleased
that he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out
the pretty creature, which arched its brown glossy neck and tossed its
fine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library
and had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He
wondered if the boy would show signs of timidity.
Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before,
and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by
the bridle up and down before the library window.
After a few minutes Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather--watching him
from the window.
"Can't I go myself?" he asked; "and can't I go faster?"
His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his
own horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.
"Now," said the Earl, "let him trot."
The next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He
found that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony
trotted, the less easy it was.
"It j-jolts a g-goo-good deal--do-doesn't it?" he said to Wilkins.
"D-does it j-jolt y-you?"
"No, my lord," answered Wilkins. "You'll get used to it in time. Rise in
your stirrups."
"I'm ri-rising all the t-time," said Fauntleroy.
He was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably and with many shakes
and bounces. He was out of breath, but he held on with all his might,
and sat as straight as he could. The Earl could see that from his
window. When the riders came back within speaking distance, after they
had been hidden by the trees a few minutes, Fauntleroy's hat was off,
his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he was still
trotting manfully.
"Stop a minute!" said his grandfather. "Where's your hat?"
Wilkins touched his. "It fell off, your lordship," he said, with evident
enjoyment. "Wouldn't let me stop to pick it up, my lord."
"Tired?" said the Earl to Fauntleroy. "Want to get off?"
"It jolts you more than you think it will," admitted his young lordship
frankly. "And it tires you a little too; but I don't want to get off. I
want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath I want to go back for
the hat."
The cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach
Fauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have
taught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony
trotted off again toward the avenue, a faint colour crept up in the
fierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a
pleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And
he sat and watched quite eagerly until the sound of the horses' hoofs
returned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a
faster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was still off, Wilkins was carrying it for
him; his cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about
his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.
"There!" he panted, as they drew up, "I c-cantered."
He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a
day passed on which the country people did not see them out together,
cantering gaily on the highroad or through the green lanes. The children
in the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown
pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle,
and the young lord would snatch off his cap and swing it at them, and
shout, "Hallo! Good morning!" in a very unlordly manner, though with
great heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children,
and once Wilkins came back to the Castle with a story of how Fauntleroy
had insisted on dismounting near the village school, so that a boy who
was lame and tired might ride home on his pony.
"An' I'm blessed," said Wilkins, in telling the story at the
stables,--"I'm blessed if he'd hear of anything else! He wouldn't let me
get down, because he said the boy mightn't feel comfortable on a big
horse. An' ses he, 'Wilkins,' ses he, 'that boy's lame and I'm not, and
I want to talk to him too.' And up the lad has to get, and my lord
trudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets. And when we come
to the cottage, an' the boy's mother comes out to see what's up, he
whips off his cap an' ses he, 'I've brought your son home, ma'am,' ses
he, 'because his leg hurt him, and I don't think that stick is enough
for him to lean on; and I'm going to ask my grandfather to have a pair
of crutches made for him.'"
When the Earl heard the story, he was not angry, as Wilkins had been
half afraid that he would be; on the contrary, he laughed outright, and
called Fauntleroy up to him, and made him tell all about the matter from
beginning to end, and then he laughed again. And actually, a few days
later, the Dorincourt carriage stopped in the green lane before the
cottage where the lame boy lived, and Fauntleroy jumped out and walked
up to the door, carrying a pair of strong, light, new crutches, and
presented them to Mrs. Hartle (the lame boy's name was Hartle) with
these words: "My grandfather's compliments, and if you please, these are
for your boy, and we hope he will get better."
"I said your compliments," he explained to the Earl when he returned to
the carriage. "You didn't tell me to, but I thought perhaps you forgot.
That was right, wasn't it?"
And the Earl laughed again, and did not say it was not. In fact, the two
were becoming more intimate every day, and every day Fauntleroy's faith
in his lordship's benevolence and virtue increased. He had no doubt
whatever that his grandfather was the most amiable and generous of
elderly gentlemen. Certainly, he himself found his wishes gratified
almost before they were uttered; and such gifts and pleasures were
lavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost bewildered by his own
possessions. Perhaps, notwithstanding his sweet nature, he might have
been somewhat spoiled by it, if it had not been for the hours he spent
with his mother at Court Lodge. That "best friend" of his watched over
him very closely and tenderly. The two had many long talks together, and
he never went back to the Castle with her kisses on his cheeks without
carrying in his heart some simple, pure words worth remembering.
There was one thing, it is true, which puzzled the little fellow very
much. He thought over the mystery of it much oftener than any one
supposed; even his mother did not know how often he pondered on it; the
Earl for a long time never suspected that he did so at all. But being
quick to observe, the little boy could not help wondering why it was
that his mother and grandfather never seemed to meet. He had noticed
that they never did meet. And yet, every day, fruit and flowers were
sent to Court Lodge from the hot-houses at the Castle. But the one
virtuous action of the Earl's which had set him upon the pinnacle of
perfection in Cedric's eyes, was what he had done soon after that first
Sunday when Mrs. Errol had walked home from church unattended. About a
week later, when Cedric was going one day to visit his mother, he found
at the door, instead of the large carriage and prancing pair, a pretty
little brougham and a handsome bay horse.
"That is a present from you to your mother," the Earl said abruptly.
"She cannot go walking about the country. She needs a carriage. The man
who drives will take charge of it. It is a present from _you_."
Fauntleroy's delight could but feebly express itself. He could scarcely
contain himself until he reached the lodge. His mother was gathering
roses in the garden. He flung himself out of the little brougham and
flew to her.
"Dearest!" he cried, "could you believe it? This is yours! He says it is
a present from me. It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in!"
He was so happy that she did not know what to say. She could not have
borne to spoil his pleasure by refusing to accept the gift, even though
it came from the man who chose to consider himself her enemy. She was
obliged to step into the carriage, roses and all, and let herself be
taken for a drive, while Fauntleroy told her stories of his
grandfather's goodness and amiability. They were such innocent stories
that sometimes she could not help laughing a little, and then she would
draw her little boy closer to her side and kiss him, feeling glad that
he could see only good in the old man who had so few friends.
The very next day after that, Fauntleroy wrote to Mr. Hobbs. He wrote
quite a long letter, and after the first copy was written, he brought it
to his grandfather to be inspected.
"Because," he said, "it's so uncertain about the spelling."
These were the last lines:
"I should like to see you and I wish dearest could live at the
castle but I am very happy when I dont miss her too much and I
love my granfarther every one does plees write soon
"your afechshnet old friend
"Cedric Errol.
"Do you miss your mother very much?" asked the Earl when he had finished
reading this.
"Yes," said Fauntleroy, "I miss her all the time. And when I miss her
very much, I go and look out of my window to where I see her light shine
for me every night through an open place in the trees. It is a long way
off, but she puts it in her window as soon as it is dark and I can see
it twinkle far away, and I know what it says."
"What does it say?" asked my lord.
"It says, 'Good-night, God keep you all the night!'--just what she used
to say when we were together. Every night she used to say that to me,
and every morning she said, 'God bless you all the day!' So you see I am
quite safe all the time----"
"Quite, I have no doubt," said his lordship dryly. And he drew down his
beetling eyebrows and looked at the little boy so fixedly and so long
that Fauntleroy wondered what he could be thinking of.