_CHRISTMAS EVE AT TREGOWAN._
They all streamed into the house. It was arranged that at the very
first opportunity Ralph and George should return with whatever
reinforcements they could induce to come with them, and that then the
building of the tower should be continued. In the interim Duke
assured them that he would devote any spare moments of his own--of
which it was possible he might have a few--to the prosecution of the
important business they had undertaken. Chandos, however, when
requested to accompany his friends, replied, in the politest possible
way, that he would do nothing of the kind.
"I won't come near the place," he civilly announced. "No thank you;
once is quite enough for me. Once bit twice shy for this child, if
you please. And I shan't think it particularly civil of Eva if,
after inviting me to be his guest, he goes pottering about the place
and leaves me alone. When I have a visitor, I do my best to make him
comfortable, but some people's manners are peculiar."
This was said when they were all back in the schoolroom, drinking
scalding cups of coffee and eating mighty pieces of cake by way of
preparation for their drive to Camborne Station. The girls were
present, and Ria, whose notions of ceremony were about on a par with
Master Effingham's, not unnaturally deeming this to be a scarcely
civil speech, never hesitated to retort.
"Yes, some people's manners are peculiar--very; and if I were some
people, I would not invite some other people to stay in my house,
unless those people could behave with decency."
This was aimed point-blank at Master Effingham; there was no
mistaking that, and Chandos never supposed it otherwise. Taken
considerably aback, he stared at the young lady; bearing in mind that
their acquaintance had been of the briefest possible kind, that, in
fact, they had never met before, Chandos being Devonshire born, and a
stranger to Tregowan, it was about as peculiar a speech as his had
been. But Winnie poured oil upon the troubled waters. Coming
forward with a lady-of-the-household air, which already became her
young ladyship so well, she said--
"I hope you will not remain a stranger here. As a friend of Duke,
not to mention Ralph, we shall always do our best to make you
welcome."
"Thank you," replied Chandos, glowering at Ria, who on her part was
red with heat and indignation; "I'm much obliged to you; I shan't
trouble you much, and I can't say that I am much the friend of Duke
or of Ralph either. I should be sorry to say that either of them is
the sort of fellow to suit me."
And he ate the last piece of cake, and put his hands into his
pockets, and held his peace until they went. So soon as they had
gone, and the door was fairly closed upon their backs, Ria burst out
with a frank expression of her opinion.
"Of all the horrid boys I ever saw, I do think he is the horridest!
Was ever such a bear? How Ralph Eva could ever have taken pity on
him and asked him to his home to spend the holidays is more than I
can understand. Nasty, ill-mannered, ungrateful thing! and I do hope
that this is the last time he will ever come near this house."
"My dear Ria," said Winnie, so soon as the young lady's impetuosity
would give her an opportunity to speak, "I don't know which to admire
most, your language or your sentiments. It is gratifying to learn
that you clearly perceive that it is the better course to return
incivility in kind. It is not so clear to me. It has always seemed
to me better to be excessively polite upon your part, whatever other
people may be on theirs, on the same principle that, because one
person is a thief, that is no reason why I should go and steal as
well."
"Whatever Ria says," said Nelly, in her turn, perceiving the young
lady had some strong words upon her tongue, "she does not mean to be
unintentionally rude. He certainly does not seem to be a
particularly pleasing youth, but it appears to be in the poor boy's
nature, and not entirely his fault."
But while they were discussing in not too flattering terms the absent
Master Chandos Effingham, Duke was going with his visitors to see
them off; and as they stood upon the steps outside the great
hall-door, George Trevena said something to him which in the issue
was destined to have a somewhat important bearing on our tale. It
was not a promising night, or rather afternoon; for though it was
already dark, it still was early. The sky was black, the clouds hung
very low, and were very threatening in their aspect. A cold wind was
blowing from the sea, and there was every prospect of another heavy
fall of snow ere long. It was a typical winter's evening, and a
typical winter's evening is by no means to the ordinary mind a
pleasant one. The great hall-doors were open, and the ruddy light
cast by the lamps and by the blazing fire lit up the cheerless scene
without. He would have been a curiously dispositioned wanderer who
would not have longed to escape the rigours of the weather, and take
shelter in a house whose promise of a very different state of things
was so conspicuous. There stood the pony-cart, shadowing black
against the drifting snow; the lamps were lighted, a man stood at the
pony's head, and another was at hand to see that their comfort was
considered in the way of rugs and wrappers.
"I think, sir, if I were you," said this man--it was one of the
grooms attached to the stables--"I would let Jones"--that was the
helper at the pony's head--"lead her along until you reach the gates.
It's very dark beneath the trees, and the snow is very deep in
places. It's better to have some one who knows the way with you."
"Thanks! I think I will," said George, to whom the observation was
addressed. "I know the road well enough, but it's uncommonly dark.
I'm late enough already, and I shouldn't care to have a spill upon
the way; besides, it's the pater's cart, and he might object if I
brought it back in pieces."
He spoke as the young man speaks who is twice his age, and not as the
youngster which he was. Then he turned to Marmaduke, who stood
beside him on the steps.
"I say, Duke, we've got a regular spree on to-morrow night," he said.
"It's Christmas Eve, you know."
"Yes," said Duke, for it was anything but news; "I know it is."
"So a lot of us are going carolling. It will be splendid fun going
about from place to place. It will be pitch dark, you know, and we
can have all sorts of games."
"Who's going?" asked Duke, who at present was not quite clear that he
saw the splendid fun of it by any means.
"I'm not," volunteered Effingham, "nor anybody else who's got his
senses, I should think. I never heard such lunacy in all my days!"
"No one asked you to," retorted George, "and we wouldn't have you if
you came," which was very near a "bull," although they did not see it
then. "Ralph is coming, and Willie Anderson, and Eddie Mason, and
Penharden, and I daresay Pollyon. Oh, there'll be a regular gang of
us, you'll see; and we want you to come as well. It'll be splendid
fun, you know."
"But," said Duke, who still was doubtful about the splendid fun, but
was tempted, for reasons of his own, by the mention of Pollyon's
name, "if Pollyon and Penharden come, however are they going to get
back when all is done?"
"Oh, that's their affair, not mine. If it's such a tight fix as
that, wo can spare a bed or two."
Master George Trevena was, like Marmaduke, an only son, and was more
spoiled than the generality of only sons are apt to be. His father,
an easy-going man, was one of the members for the county, and almost
constantly away from home. He had lost his mother, and, in the
absence of any particular authority, was only too apt to have his own
way in everything. "Will you come?" he again asked Marmaduke, who
was still hesitating at his side.
"Yes, I'll come," said Duke, making up his mind upon the spot. It
was not said because he had any particularly brilliant anticipations
of the splendid fun there was to be, nor because he himself desired
to go, but solely because he heard that Pollyon would be there.
Since a certain talk with Lionel that young gentleman had acquired an
entirely new interest in his eyes.
"Then you'll have to have an early dinner and meet us at Treswithian
outside the 'Cornish Daws' as soon after seven as possible. Good-bye
till then! Now then, you fellows, in with you."
And he hurried down the steps and climbed into the trap. Ralph was
in before him; he had an eye to comfort, and had taken his seat
beside the driver in the front; Chandos would have the pleasure of
crouching at the back. But Chandos had a parting word to exchange
with Marmaduke.
"I say, that's a rum sister of yours;" he probably alluded to Ria,
but did not distinctly say. "Peculiarly civil sort of girl upon the
whole. Girls are such a mumbling set of goshawks as a rule, that
it's a comfort to find one with a word to say upon her own account."
Duke laughed. Chandos went down the steps and began to grumble when
he discovered what share of the trap was left to him. Then, when he
was in, he shouted out to Marmaduke--
"If you go to that thing to-morrow, I shall say you're a bigger idiot
than I took you for. It will serve you right if you all get buried
in the snow. I did think that there was one with brains among the
lot of you."
But before Duke had time to reply, if he were inclined that way,
Trevena gave the word to the helper at the pony's head, and the trap
moved down the avenue towards the outer gate.
The next day, as George had pointed out, was Christmas Eve, always a
great day at Tregowan, for they had all sorts of things to do.
First, the church, or rather churches--for on the estate was more
than one--had to be decorated, and the Tregowans always took a
foremost part in that; then the house itself had to be put into
Christmas trim; then all sorts of purchases had to be made, for every
one on the estate and connected with the household, no matter what
might be his or her position, whether great or small, received a
Christmas gift, whether in money or in kind--often, in fact, it took
the form of both. As a rule, too, there was a large family gathering
at Christmas at Tregowan; but this year, for various causes, it was
not to be. Many of the members were abroad, others were engaged in
public business which it was impossible for them to put aside even
for a time; in short, for one reason or another, this year the usual
party was found to be impossible. The only Tregowans at Tregowan
would be Mrs. Tregowan and her girls and boy.
At breakfast there was a general discussion of the plans for the day.
As if by mutual consent, the matter which perhaps was uppermost in
the minds of both was still avoided by the mother and her son. It
was plain that for yet another day it would not be touched upon by
either. They always breakfasted in what was called the "little
parlour," which was not, however, a little room by any means. Like
all the other rooms, it was panelled with time-honoured oak, and rare
old hangings hung upon the walls. The table was of comfortable size
for such a tiny party; the fireplace itself was like a little room,
and on the hearth was a pile of blazing logs. The whole apartment
had a cheery, comfortable aspect--an aspect which did not incline one
to make undue haste with one's matutinal repast.
Mrs. Tregowan was at one end of the table, Duke was at the other, and
Winnie sat on one side, while Nelly and Ria were at Duke's right hand.
"I shall be obliged to be at home this morning," said the mother when
they had fairly begun the meal; "but if you have no engagement, Duke,
I hope that you will go down with the girls to Camborne."
"What! to the church? I shall be delighted, mother; but I'm not much
of a hand at decorations."
"We never for a moment were so foolish as to suppose you were." This
remark was Nelly's.
"Thank you, Miss Nell; I'll pay you out for that. But I'll do the
best I can, and if that isn't much, they'll have to do their best
without me. There are always plenty of fellows who are willing to
assist. We'll have the mail-phaeton--we can all cram into that; and
if we must take a man, as I suppose we must--it's such a nuisance
keeping an eye upon the horses--Ria can sit in the back seat with
Coxon." And he looked at Ria, who did not reward him with a friendly
look in return for his suggestion. Nothing would have pleased Miss
Marion better than to sit upon the box and drive the party.
"You will be back for lunch," went on the mother, who was perfectly
well aware what was passing through the damsel's mind. "We will put
it off to half-past two, or three if you prefer it; but I must have
the girls with me this afternoon; there are so many things which must
be done which it is impossible for me to do alone."
It suddenly occurred to Duke that lunch at three, or even half-past
two, meant dining late, and he remembered that he had bound himself
to be at Treswithian at seven.
"Oh, we shall be back before then, mother," he said; "if the girls
aren't ready I shall come without them. Lunch at three will mean
dinner for me, for I may have something on this evening."
He did not say what he might have "on," and for the minute it did not
occur to them to ask him. Winnie suggested a doubt as to whether the
materials they had were sufficient to decorate that portion of the
church which was allotted to their share, and the conversation
turned. So soon as he had finished, Duke rose and went to the
stables to superintend the putting of the horses in, so that they
might be ready to start at once; thus it happened that no allusion
was made to the appointment which was to take him from them on
Christmas Eve.
Ere long word was brought that the phaeton was ready whenever the
girls might choose to come, and directly afterwards Duke came in in
search of them.
"I say, isn't it cold outside?" he said. He himself was enveloped to
the chin in a tremendous driving-coat of the choicest pattern, in
which he bid fair to be able to resist all elemental rigours. "You
girls had better wrap yourselves up in all the muffs and things
you've got; it's good enough to bite your noses off. There's no
mistake about its freezing now; the snow's as hard as iron."
Acting as he suggested, they disappeared to array themselves in their
warmest winter garments, while Duke amused himself by stamping up and
down the hall, and wondering what they meant by keeping him so long.
Even when they came, they could not start at once, for it appeared
that various baskets of flowers and all sorts of mysterious things
had to be stored into the phaeton. Duke fumed at the delay.
"Why couldn't you send them in the cart? I thought a cart-load of
things had gone down already."
"So there has, but don't you see--when you are quite sure that you
are in a better temper, my dearest Duke--that these are special
flowers, which we were specially anxious to take ourselves?"
"Oh, I daresay," growled Duke, for he was not to be appeased by
Nelly's wheedling; "it's all very well to say they're special
flowers, but what's all that string and stuff? And if there's
anything I do hate, it is having a lot of things crowded about your
legs, so that you can't even move your feet in comfort."
But at last everything was in, and the passengers besides. Duke had
got the reins, he gave the word to let them go, and in a smart canter
they bowled along the avenue. It was ticklish driving, as he quickly
found, for the snow was not only hard, but slippery too, and the
horses, fresh as daisies, were inclined to show their heels; but Duke
prided himself upon his driving--indeed all the Tregowans, girls and
all, could handle a good whip. From babyhood they had been used to
horses, and could ride almost as soon as they could walk; while as
for driving, if it were a single pony or a pair of beauties, they
never feared to occupy the coachman's seat.
And now Duke's skill was called upon to show itself.
"They're very fresh," said Winnie, who sat beside him.
"Rather!" said Duke, whose whole attention was required by his
charges; "wait till we get outside, and I'll let them go along a bit."
And when they got outside he did. After the gate through which they
went is passed, there is a stretch of level road, then uphill for
nearly half a mile. He let them have their heads and away they tore
at such a pace! It was splendid going--a little bit too hot to last,
but while it did, it was delightful. Away they went, the wind
puffing in their faces with that curious feeling of elasticity, of
buoyancy, and life which always accompanies rapid movement through
the open air. The horses' hoofs rang out upon the ground with a
clear metallic ring, the wheels ran over the level snow without the
slightest symptom of a jolt; it was perfectly smooth and easy
travelling; they seemed to glide along the road. The eager animals,
finding that they were to have matters for the present exactly as
they pleased, tore up the hill as though it were no impediment at
all. And now they reached the top, and Duke, who all the time had
kept an attentive eye upon his steeds, kept a tighter hand upon the
reins, and checked them somewhat in their wild career.
"That was a pretty piece of going," he remarked, as, breasting the
summit of the hill, they reached another level stretch, which ran
along until it sank into a sharp decline. "I wonder in what time
they'd do a mile? I should just like to find a level line of road,
and let them do their best at it; but it's all ups and downs round
there."
It was down now with a vengeance. That is as smart a slope as you
shall care to see which runs down into Trevenson and winds all
through the village. It requires careful driving in the best of
weather and on the best of roads, and with such a pair as Duke had
then, over a road which was in part as slippery as glass, it requires
a cool head and a steady hand to reach the foot without a spill.
"Take care," said Nelly quietly. She knew exactly what was
coming--knew the road, and every inch of it; and more than once, in
days previous, had wished that some one, not herself, might occupy
the driver's seat when going down the hill which leads to Trevenson.
She was perfectly aware that under ordinary circumstances Duke was as
good a whip as any one three times his age--as good a whip, indeed,
as any one might wish to be; but she knew that, like the horses,
Master Duke was just a bit excited, and that excitement made him
reckless, and she was not at all disposed to break her neck upon the
road to Camborne town.
But Duke smiled at the idea of there being any necessity to warn him
to take care, though at the same time he knew that the slightest
bungling upon his part might land them with uncomfortable suddenness
upon the frost-bound road; and Winnie's colour mounted a little
higher, for she, like Marmaduke, rejoiced in the face of danger; and,
moreover, she knew that she could trust the lad so well; and Ria, who
was about the most reckless and audacious maid alive, felt inclined
to clap her hands and urge Duke to let them gallop down the hill as
fast as they could go; but Coxon, the man-servant, who sat with
folded arms and a countenance for expression like a wooden block,
tightened his lips, and looked straight in front of him, in the full
expectation that the "young master" was going to give them an
agreeable time.
Nor was his anticipation entirely wrong. Duke did mean to let his
steeds go down that hill at a good round pace, and did mean to enjoy
the rare luxury of a canter down the hill--and what he meant to do he
did. Nelly resigned herself to fate, and privately disengaged her
feet from the baskets of flowers on the floor and prepared for
jumping. Winnie just drew a good long breath, and sat well back,
with parted lips, in an ecstasy too great for speech. Ria could
hardly restrain herself from jumping up and shouting out "Hurrah!"
while Coxon even ventured on a smile--it was the sort of thing he
thoroughly enjoyed himself; but which, as he very well knew, as often
as not resulted in disaster on the way.
Take care! they were almost over, almost laid upon their sides, or
heads, or anywhere except where they would like to be. There was a
hole or something in the snow, which almost succeeded in spilling
them. Look out! the off-mare shied. It was now look out indeed.
The canter all at once became a gallop. The inside mare sympathised
with her shying colleague, and between them it looked very much as
though they meant to run away. Ria's unspoken wish was gratified.
There was no mistake about their galloping downhill.
"Be steady, Duke," said Nelly, still quietly. "We are almost in the
village, and you don't know who may be on the road. There are always
children playing in the street."
"It will be bad for any one who is," said Duke.
Suddenly the look returned to him which we last saw beside the ruined
train and in the talk with Lionel Pollyon--that "forlorn-hope"
expression on his face. He sat well back, and, holding the reins
with both his hands, tugged at the horses like grim death.
"They shall have it out," he said. "If there's nothing on the road
we shall not come to grief."
They had it out! They tore through Trevenson--luckily there was
nothing upon the road; but before they came to Camborne the pair had
had about enough of it; but, none the less, although they dropped out
of a gallop, they tore into the town at a tremendous pace.