A SHORT CUT HOME.
Through the streets of Todborough and on through the environs of the
city the gay cavalcade rode decorously and discreetly; but nearing
Tapton Downs, the spirits of the party seemed to rise as they
encountered the fresh sea-breeze.
"I am sure you must be dying for a good gallop," said Blanche, turning
to Sylla Chipchase. "We turn off the main road a little farther on,
and then, if you remember, we have lovely turf upon each side of the
way. We generally have what Jim calls a 'real scurry' over that."
"I understand--an impromptu race; that will be great fun. But tell me,
Miss Bloxam--you know all these horses--have I any chance of beating
Lionel?"
"I can hardly say," returned Blanche, laughing. "We have really never
tried them in that way I should think old Selim, the horse he is
riding, is rather faster than yours."
"Ah; but then, you see, I am much lighter than he is. Lionel, I
challenge you to a race as soon as we turn off across the downs. You
shall bet me two dozen pair of gloves to one. I always make him do
that, you know," she remarked confidentially to Blanche, "in all our
battles, whatever they may be at."
"Very well," replied Beauchamp. "Only remember, I shall expect those
gloves if I win them; and as I did my best for you yesterday at
Rockcliffe, so I intend to do the best for myself now."
"A very sporting match," exclaimed Bloxam. "There's about a mile of
capital going over the downs without trespassing. I'll ride forward,
and be judge and winning-post, while Sartoris will start you." And so
saying, Jim trotted forward.
"Now," exclaimed Blanche, as, quitting the main highway, they turned
into the cross-country road that led over the downs towards the sea,
"this is where you ought to start from. If one of you will take the
turf on the right-hand side, and the other that on the left, and do
your best till you come to Jim, we shall all have a splendid gallop,
whichever of you wins. You start them, Mr. Sartoris. Let them get a
hundred yards in front of us, and then we'll follow as fast as we can."
The antagonists took their places as directed; Mr. Sartoris gave the
word "Go!" and away they dashed. Miss Bloxam, sailing away on King
Cole in the wake of Sylla Chipchase, scans that young lady's
performance with a critical eye. A first-rate horsewoman herself, she
was by no means favourably impressed with it. Sylla rides well enough,
but her seat is not such as would have been held in high repute in the
shires. She also displays a most ladylike tendency on the present
occasion to what is technically called ride her horse's head off.
"Two to one!" murmured Blanche; "why, it should be ten to one upon old
Selim!" and with that she turned her eyes to ascertain after what
fashion old Selim's jockey is conducting himself. But a single glance
at Lionel bending slightly forward in his stirrups, with hands low and
his horse held firmly by the head, pretty well convinces her that he is
a first-flight man to hounds, and probably has appeared in silk on a
racecourse. The match terminates as might be anticipated: Sylla, under
the laudable impression that she is making her advantage in the weights
tell, gallops her luckless mare pretty nearly to a standstill, and
Lionel, though winning as he likes, good-naturedly reduces it to a half
length, whereby his defeated antagonist lays the flattering unction to
her soul that, had he carried a few more pounds, the result would have
been the other way.
They jogged soberly along some couple of miles, when Blanche exclaimed
gaily, "Who is for the short cut home? 'Let all who love me follow
me.'" And, putting King Cole at the small fence that bordered the
road, she jumped into the big grass-field on the other side. Lionel
Beauchamp and Laura Chipchase followed promptly; but Jim, who was a
little in advance, said quietly,
"We had better, I think, keep the road, Sartoris. The governor's hack,
though admirable in his place, is not quite calculated for the
inspection of the agriculture of the neighbourhood."
He said this good-naturedly, solely upon Sylla's account. He had
marked the finish of her race with Lionel, and had come to the
conclusion that the young lady was not much of a horsewoman. Now this
short cut, although over an easy country, did involve the negotiation
of two or three good-sized fences, and he thought it just possible that
the girl would prefer not being called upon to ride over anything of
that sort. Sylla was possessed of a good many accomplishments, but
riding across country was not one of them. She had, however, that
curious but common desire to excel in that for which she had no
aptitude; still, if she possessed no other attribute of a horsewoman,
she was undoubtedly gifted with nerve amounting almost to recklessness.
"Oh, no, Captain Bloxam," she exclaimed; "I am sure we can go anywhere
that the rest of them do. Don't you think so, Mr. Sartoris?"
Without waiting for a reply, the young lady jumped her horse into the
field, and cantered smartly after Blanche and her cousin.
"Well, wilful woman must have her way," Jim said drily. "Come along,
Sartoris; the governor's hack can jump well enough if you don't hurry
him." And the two men promptly followed their fair leader across the
grass.
King Cole enjoyed the scurry across country to the full as much as his
mistress, and expressed his pleasure by shaking his head and reaching
hard at his bit. Laura Chipchase's horse was also roused by the smart
canter at which they were going, and began to pull unpleasantly.
"Let him go, Laura," cried Miss Bloxam; "the King, too, is fidgeting
most uncomfortably. A good gallop will take the nonsense out of them."
And with that the two girls quickened their pace, and, going on side by
side, led the way at a fair hunting gallop. The first few fences were
small, and as she sailed triumphantly over them, Sylla's pulses
tingled, and she was fired with the spirit of emulation. Although she
was some little distance behind, she resolved to catch and pass the
leaders, and with that intent commenced bucketing her mare along in
rather merciless fashion. In vain did Jim shout words of warning. She
turned a deaf ear to them. Had he not recommended that she should keep
the road? Did he think the art of crossing a country was known only to
the maidens of Fernshire? She was determined to catch Blanche and her
cousin, whatever her escort might urge to the contrary, and saw with
infinite satisfaction that she was rapidly closing the gap between
them. Jim Bloxam, galloping a little to her left, and watching her
closely, has already come to the conclusion that wilful woman will have
her fall, and only trusts it may not be serious.
The mare Sylla was riding was a fairly good hunter, and if she would
but have left her alone would have carried the girl safely over such
obstacles as they had to encounter. But Jim noticed with dismay that
Sylla had some indistinct idea of assisting her at her fences, the
result of which could only be inevitable grief. The exhilaration of
the trio in front, as attested by the wild shout sent back by Lionel
Beauchamp as they cleared the first of those bigger fences previously
mentioned, put Sylla's blood thoroughly up. Heedless of Jim's "For
God's sake, take a pull!" she struck her mare sharply with the whip,
and sent her at it as fast as she could lay legs to the ground. The
consequence was the mare took off too soon, and the pair landed in the
next field somewhat in a heap. Jim was over and off his horse in a
minute, and at once came to the discomfited fair's assistance. It is
seldom that a lady shows to advantage after a regular "crumpler," the
story of Arabella Churchill notwithstanding; nor, for the matter of
that, do men either look the better for the process. No real harm
having been done, the ludicrous side of the situation generally
presents itself; but Sylla was certainly an exception. Although her
hat was broken, her habit woefully torn and mud-stained, nobody could
have looked at her somewhat flushed face and flashing dark eyes without
admitting that she was a very pretty girl even "in ruins."
"No, thanks; I am not in the least hurt, Captain Bloxam," she replied,
as Jim helped her to her feet; "but I could cry with vexation. I had
set my heart upon catching those two; but now," she continued, with a
comical little grimace, "I have got to first catch my mare."
With the assistance of Mr. Sartoris, who, taking Jim's advice, had
followed at a more sedate pace, this was soon done; and Sylla, having
rectified her toilette as far as circumstances permitted, was once more
in the saddle. That she presented a rather dilapidated and woebegone
appearance, nobody could be more conscious than herself; but, as a
woman always does under such affliction, she put the best face she
could upon it.
"I am looking a dreadful guy," she said; "and it is very good of you
two not to laugh at me. I dare not even think of my hat, for nobody
ever did, nor ever will, succeed in straightening that article into any
semblance of its former shape when it has been once stove in. I have
only one thing to be thankful for. Do you know what that is?"
"That you are not hurt in any way," replied Jim.
"Hurt!" she rejoined, with a contemptuous shrug of her shoulders; "I
never thought of that. Can you guess, Mr. Sartoris?"
"I think so," he returned, laughing. "You are well pleased that your
cousin and Miss Bloxam were well in front."
"Just so," said Sylla. "It is easy to see that you are married, Mr.
Sartoris, and can to some extent follow the windings of our feminine
minds. _They_ would have laughed, and, under pretence of assistance,
called attention," and here the girl looked ruefully down at her rent
habit, "to all the weak joints in my armour; and, lastly, they would
have done what you won't,--tease me to death about it for the next
week."
"Matrimony has inculcated that blindness is wisdom as far as I am
concerned," said Sartoris.
"You see, Captain Bloxam, how that ceremony quickens the understanding.
But you are very good. I know you think that my fall was my own fault;
that if I had listened to your warning it wouldn't have happened; and
you remain mute. Laura is a dear good girl; but, in your place, she
couldn't have resisted saying, 'Didn't I tell you so?' to save her
life."
Jim muttered a courteous and most mendacious disclaimer of Miss Sylla's
"grief" being due to disregard of his warning.
The leading trio, in the meanwhile, lost in all the exultation of a
good gallop, and in utter ignorance of Sylla Chipchase's fall, kept on
without slacking rein till they once more found themselves near the
high-road, sweeping round from the point they had left it to this, in
an arc, by traversing the chord of which they had saved about a mile;
and now, looking round for the remainder of the party, discovered, to
their surprise, that they were nowhere in sight.
"They must have gone round by the road!" exclaimed Blanche. "Perhaps
your cousin, Laura, is not used to crossing a country."
"That I can't say," replied Miss Chipchase. "Till this Easter I
haven't seen her since she was quite a small child; but I must say,
from what I know of her, that I am rather surprised she didn't try."
"I think it most probable she has tried," observed Lionel quietly.
"Shall I ride back and see what has become of them?"
"No," said Miss Chipchase, "I don't think that is necessary. Jim and
Mr. Sartoris will no doubt take every care of her. We had better jump
into the road, Blanche, and see if they are coming that way."
But of course there were no signs of the rearguard along the highway;
and after a delay of a few minutes the party agreed that Sylla was well
taken care of, and they might as well proceed leisurely homewards. The
victim of her ambition to "witch the world with noble horsemanship" saw
the leaders vanish from her view with much satisfaction. Under Jim
Bloxam's guidance, and proceeding quietly over more moderate fences,
which, though not the straightest, was perhaps the safest, path to the
high-road, they regained it without further accident. It must not be
supposed that Sylla's nerves were shaken by her fall. She rode as
boldly as at first at everything her Mentor allowed; but she was in a
strange country, and compelled, whether she liked it or not, to trust
herself to Jim Bloxam's guidance.
"Now," she exclaimed, "you have come very nearly to the end of your
responsibilities, Captain Bloxam. You have only, if possible, to
smuggle me into the rectory; and remember--I swear you both to secresy."
"I can take you," replied Jim, "by a bridle-path through the wood,
which will in all probability insure your reaching the rectory grounds
unnoticed; but your getting into the house I must leave to your own
ingenuity."
When, in the course of the evening, Jim, in his own impetuous fashion,
told that he had asked the Chipchase girls to come up to the Grange the
next evening, with a view to charades and an impromptu valse or two,
Lady Mary received the intelligence with the calm resignation of a
follower of Mahomet. She saw it was hopeless attempting any further to
control the march of events.
"No," she murmured confidentially to Mr. Cottrell in the drawing-room,
"the Fates are against me. I have done all that woman could, but I
cannot contend with destiny. It is sad; but whatever with due
forethought I propose, destiny, embodied in the shape of that wretch
Jim, persistently thwarts. There is no such thing as instilling the
slightest tact into him."
"But, my dear Lady Mary," rejoined Cottrell, whose sense of the
humorous was again highly gratified by the outcome of the trip to
Trotbury, "I really cannot see that you have any cause for complaint.
Things look to me progressing very favourably in the direction you
wish."
"My dear Pansey," replied her ladyship, solemnly, "you do not
understand these things _quite so well_ as I thought you did. A
variety of belles disturbs concentration, and prevents that earnestness
of purpose which is so highly desirable."
"I see," rejoined Pansey, laughing. "To revert to the metaphor you
used in our conversation some days since, you object to a peal of
belles. Your doctrine may be embodied in the formula, I presume, of
one belle and one ringer."
"Yes," rejoined her ladyship, smiling, "that about describes it. And
now I think it is about bed-time. Jim, my dear," she continued, as she
took her bed-room candle, "as you have thought fit to improvise a ball,
you had better take care that the young ladies have partners by asking
three or four of the officers from Rockcliffe, if they will waive
ceremony and come."
"All right," he replied, "I will send over the first thing to-morrow
morning;" and from the inflexion of his mother's voice, Jim gathered
that his programme for the morrow had, at all events, not met
altogether with her approval.
But there were still a few more bitter drops to be squeezed into the
cup of Lady Mary's discontent before she laid her head upon her pillow.
She had not been ten minutes in her room when there was a tap at the
door, and Blanche entered.
"I just looked in, mamma dear, to ask you if you knew that the
Chipchases were related to Mrs. Wriothesley?"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Lady Mary; "what can you be dreaming of? Why, I
have known Laura and her sister all their lives; and had they been
related to that detestable woman, I must have heard of it."
"Well, I can only say that Sylla Chipchase told me to-day at Trotbury
that Mrs. Wriothesley was her aunt, and that she was going up to stay
with her as soon as the holidays were over."
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Lady Mary, "I might have guessed it; I might
have known there was some reason for my instinctive dislike to that
girl. That a niece of that horrid woman should turn out as
objectionable as herself is only what one might expect."
"But really, mamma dear," expostulated Blanche, "although I don't quite
like Sylla Chipchase myself, you cannot say that of her. I know you
don't like Mrs. Wriothesley; but she is a very pretty woman, and Jim
declares a very pleasant one."
"Don't talk to me of Jim!" cried Lady Mary petulantly. "He is too
provoking, and thinks every woman not positively ugly that smiles upon
him delightful; but I lose all patience when I speak of Mrs.
Wriothesley. Of course it's quite possible for Mrs. Wriothesley to be
Sylla's aunt, although no relation to her cousins; and you say this
girl is going to stay with her?"
"Yes, for the remainder of the season," rejoined Blanche.
"Upon my word," exclaimed Lady Mary, "I really cannot think what sins I
have committed, that such a trial should be laid upon me. Mrs.
Wriothesley is bad enough as it is, and hard enough to keep at arms'
length; but Mrs. Wriothesley with a pretty girl to chaperon--and I am
sorry to own that Sylla is that--a girl, moreover, who has forced her
way upon us in the country, will be simply unendurable."
Pansey Cottrell, had he been present at this scene, would most
thoroughly have enjoyed it, and even Blanche could not help laughing at
her mother's dismay. Lady Mary's was no simulation of despair. She
pictured, as Cottrell would have divined, herself and her former foe
once more pitted against each other as rivals, and recalled rather
bitterly that campaign of four or five years back, when another niece
of that lady's successfully carried off an eligible _parti_ that she,
Lady Mary, had at that time selected as suitable for her eldest
daughter. She had congratulated her antagonist in most orthodox
fashion when the engagement was announced; and, though nothing but the
most honied words were exchanged between them, Mrs. Wriothesley had
contrived to let her see, as a woman always can, that she was quite
aware of her disappointment, and thoroughly cognizant that her soft
speeches were as dust and ashes in her mouth.
"Well, good night, mamma," said Blanche, breaking in upon her mother's
reverie. "Although you don't like Mrs. Wriothesley, I really don't
think that need interfere with your slumbers."
"My dear, you don't know her," rejoined Lady Mary, with a vindictive
emphasis that sent Blanche laughing out of the room.
Jim Bloxam might have his faults, but no one could charge him with lack
of energy. Whatever he busied himself about, Jim did it with all his
might. He had--as in these days who has not?--dabbled a little in
amateur theatricals; and, whatever his audience might think of his
performance, the stage-manager would emphatically testify that he threw
himself into the business heart and soul. That he should take counsel
with Mrs. Sartoris next morning concerning the proposed charades was
only what might have been expected; and then, an unusual thing in a
country-house party, a dearth of talent was discovered. Neither
Blanche nor the Misses Evesham had ever taken part in anything of the
kind, and declared in favour of being lookers-on. Mr. Sartoris
promised to assist to the extent of his ability; but neither he nor his
wife would accept the responsibility of deciding what they should do,
or in fact undertaking the management. The trio seemed rather
nonplussed, when Pansey Cottrell, who had taken no part in the
discussion, said quietly,
"Why don't you go down to the rectory, and talk things over with the
young ladies there? Miss Sylla is very clever in that way, I can
vouch, having seen her."
"Of course," exclaimed Jim. "How stupid of me not to think of it
before! Get your hat, Mrs. Sartoris. We have just nice time to slip
across before lunch."
Upon arriving at the rectory, Jim plunged at once _in medias res_.
"We are come across to consult you about what we are to do to-night.
Rumour, in the shape of Pansey Cottrell, declares, Miss Sylla, that you
are 'immense' in all this sort of thing."
"Mr. Cottrell, as you will soon discover, has been imposing upon you to
a great extent," replied Sylla; "but still I shall be glad to be of any
use I can."
"Our difficulty is this," interposed Mrs. Sartoris: "when I have acted,
it has always been in a regular play. My words have been set down for
me, so that of course I knew exactly what I had to say and when to say
it; but in charades, Captain Bloxam tells me, I shall have to improvise
my words. I have never seen one acted; but that strikes me as
dreadfully difficult."
"You are perfectly right, Mrs. Sartoris; it is. And yet people who
have serious misgivings about their ability to act a play have no
hesitation about taking part in charades. It is wont to result in all
the characters wanting to talk together, or else in nobody apparently
having anything to say, or in one character being so enamoured with the
ease he or she improvises, that the affair resolves itself into a mere
monologue. I would venture to suggest that our charades should be
merely pantomimic."
"Glorious!" exclaimed Jim. "I vote we place ourselves in Miss Sylla's
hands, and elect her manageress. Will you agree, Mrs. Sartoris?"
"Most certainly. The idea sounds excellent, and to leave the
originator to carry it out is undoubtedly the best thing we can do."
"Very well, then; if you will give me an hour or two to think out my
words, I will explain how they ought to be done."
"If you wouldn't mind coming up to the Grange, we might have a
rehearsal this afternoon, rummage up the properties, and all the rest
of it," exclaimed Jim, energetically.
"That will do admirably," said Laura Chipchase. "And now, Sylla, the
sooner you set that great mind of yours to work, the better."