The two gentlemen dismounted at the gate giving their horses to their
groom, and then walked towards Lady Eleanor together. Both were
dressed in blue coats, buff waistcoats, and broad-brimmed white hats,
and wore riding trousers strapped very tightly over their boots. They
were evidently father and son, though the elder seemed almost as young
and alert as the younger. The old gentleman took off his hat, bent his
grey head over Lady Eleanor's out-stretched hand, and kissed it with
the old-fashioned courtesy which has now vanished. Then beckoning the
younger man forward, he said:
"I bring you back an old friend with a new title, Lady Eleanor. He has
just returned from India with a new scar on the right shoulder to
balance the old scar on the left, and with a letter from the
Commander-in-Chief, which he is too modest to show to his friends and
too proud to show to his enemies, if he has any--_Colonel_ George
Fitzdenys."
And the younger man came forward, tall, lean, wiry, and erect as the
Corporal himself. He wore the moustache which showed him to be a Light
Dragoon, and looked every inch a soldier; but though he could not have
been more than three or four and thirty, he had the sad expression of a
man who has found the years long. Still bronzed and brown though his
face was, he blushed just a little as he caught his father's proud
glance at him, and bent in his turn over Lady Eleanor's hand.
"Welcome back, Colonel Fitzdenys," she said very quietly; "we have not
lost sight of you in the Gazettes through all these years; and you are
quite recovered from your wound, I hope."
"Wound! it was nothing," he said, "an arrow in the shoulder which your
boy would have laughed at."
And then Lady Eleanor beckoned to the children to come up; and old Lord
Fitzdenys gave Dick two fingers and Elsie one, for he said that if her
hand was like her mother's it could not hold more. But Colonel George
gave Dick his whole hand, and bent down to kiss Elsie's as he had
kissed her mother's, which won her little heart completely.
[Illustration: Bent down to kiss Elsie's as he had kissed her mother's.]
"Now, my dear lady," said the old gentleman, "I must ask you for the
favour of a few minutes' private conversation."
"And I will stay with the children," said Colonel George, "for I want
to make friends again."
Dick and Elsie were a little shy at being left alone with a stranger;
but before he could say a word to them the Corporal appeared leading
the pony towards the stable. He saluted Colonel Fitzdenys, and was
going on, but the Colonel at once called to him by name and shook his
hand warmly, while the Corporal beamed with pleasure, and said how glad
he was to see his honour returned in good health.
"Oh! do you know the Corporal?" asked Dick timidly.
"Know the Corporal?" said Colonel George. "I should think I did know
him, and a fine, brave fellow he is. Why, he saved my life once, he
and your father. I was lieutenant in your father's troop, and at the
very first skirmish in which we were engaged in the war, I was hit
here, in the shoulder, so that I could not hold my reins. My horse ran
away with me, right into the middle of the French, and there was not
another horse in the regiment that could catch him, except your
father's horse, Billy Pitt. But he came galloping after me as hard as
he could ride, and caught him; and Brimacott, who was his servant,
followed as fast as he could, and between them they brought me back
from the middle of the enemy, or perhaps I shouldn't be here now. So I
have good reason to remember Brimacott and Billy Pitt. Do you remember
Billy Pitt?"
"He's here in the stable," said both the children in a breath.
"Then let us go and see Billy Pitt, for he's a very old friend of
mine," said the Colonel, and away he walked to the stable with the
children following him. The old horse seemed to know him, for he
pricked his ears and kept nuzzling with his nose all over the Colonel's
coat, until he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an apple for
him. "Look there," said the Colonel, passing his hand along the scar
on the horse's neck. "The time came for Billy to get wounded and for
me to look after him, as he had saved me. That was at Salamanca." He
stopped for a minute and laid his hands on the children's shoulders.
"Poor Billy had lost his master, you know, and came galloping up to me
with his saddle empty, for he knew my horse well. And then he remained
by my side, moving when I moved and stopping when I stopped, and
charging with us when we charged. He came out of the fight with this
cut on his neck. Poor Brimacott was badly wounded in the leg, and
there was no one to look after the old horse, so I sewed up Billy's
wound myself and kept him. He was well long before the Corporal--I
made him corporal, you know--and, indeed, poor Brimacott was never fit
for rough work again, so when he went home I sent Billy with him."
Then nothing would serve the children but that Colonel Fitzdenys must
ride Billy again; so a snaffle was put into his mouth and the Colonel
mounted him bare-backed, and took him for a little turn in the park and
leaped him over the bar, to their great delight. Then all three went
back to the garden again, and the children began plying him with
questions. His own poor horse was dead, the Colonel told them; he had
carried him all through the Peninsular War but had been killed at
Waterloo. The Colonel himself had been in the wars in India since
then, and the name of the battle was Maheidpore, but the Duke of
Wellington was not there. He had seen the Duke, however, only a few
days before in London, but he wasn't dressed in his red coat and cocked
hat, and he believed that the Duke never slept in his red coat and
cocked hat now.
"Is the Corporal like the Duke?" asked Dick anxiously. No! the Colonel
could not truthfully say that he was, but the Corporal was the bigger
man of the two, which was a consolation to the children.
Then the children asked him about Boney, for Polly Short, who had been
their maid, had told them that he was a "riglar monster," and she had
heard it from her first cousin's wife's brother-law, who was a sergeant
of Marines. But the Colonel said that Polly was wrong, for he had seen
Boney himself at St. Helena, and he was not in the least like a
monster, but a little fat man with a pale face and auburn hair, not
nearly as big as the Corporal. And Boney had made no attempt to eat
him up, but had received him with the pleasantest smile that he had
ever seen, and had told him that English horses were good. "And of
course he was thinking of Billy," said Elsie, "when he said that."
And then the Colonel brought out pencil and paper and drew pictures of
Boney and of the Duke, and of Bheels and Pindarrees and Mahrattas and
other strange people against whom he had fought in India. He also
assured Dick that he had drunk puddle-water, like Lord Willoughby's
men, and had been very glad to get it. Finally he produced a little
silver bangle hung with curious silver coins which he put on Elsie's
wrist for her very own, and a knife in a sheath for Dick. The knife
was not very sharp, but then the sheath was beautiful. So that by the
time when Lord Fitzdenys and Lady Eleanor came out to look for them,
they found the children hanging on to the Colonel's arms and calling
him Colonel George as if they had known him all their lives.
Lord Fitzdenys called Colonel George to him; and he left the children
to join Lady Eleanor, who told him the story of Tommy Fry, and asked
him what he made of it.
"Witchcraft, of course, is nonsense," he said, "but there are people
who can wield such influence as this over others, the power of a
stronger will over a weaker, I suppose. One hears of it often in
India. Probably the boy will recover in a day or two, when he gets
over his fright."
"But if he does not?" said Lady Eleanor.
"Why, if the doctor can't deal with it, the best thing we can do will
be to find the woman; and if she has bound the boy by force of her will
to be silent, to make her release him again. Where does she live?"
"No one knows," said Lady Eleanor, and repeated what Mrs. Fry had told
her.
"I never remember any one being pixy-led but that cider was at the
bottom of it," said Colonel George. "As to the dragon, I expect that
Jimmy Beer chanced upon an old stag which looked very big and terrible
in the mist, and that the print of his cloven hoof was the mark of his
slot in the ground. The moor is wide, but I cannot think it will be
very difficult to find this woman."
"I should be greatly relieved if we could, if only to prevent her from
playing such tricks in future," said Lady Eleanor.
"Then I will make it my business to find her," said Colonel George, "if
my father approves; and you need trouble yourself no more about the
matter, but leave it to me."
Old Lord Fitzdenys quite approved, and stumped off by himself to look
at a shrub which he could never induce to grow at his own place. Then
the children came running up to show their treasures, and Lady Eleanor
looked into Colonel George's face with eyes full of gratitude, and said
"How good of you! You never forget them, and you are rather inclined
to spoil them. You did when you came back from the Peninsula, and
again after Waterloo, and now after all these years you are just the
same."
"Yes," he said quietly, "I am just the same. Why should I be changed?"
He stopped rather abruptly; and Lady Eleanor began a new subject by
saying that she wanted to hear all about India. So the two walked
about the garden talking, and seemed to have plenty to say. Indeed
they were still talking hard, and did not seem to want to be
interrupted, when old Lord Fitzdenys came back to say that it was time
for him to return. The old gentleman took his leave with the same
stately courtesy; but both the children put up their cheeks to be
kissed by Colonel George, who promised to come back to them soon. Then
seeing Mrs. Fry waiting outside they spoke a few words to her and took
a look at Tommy, whose mouth was smeared with brown sugar from Lady
Eleanor's still-room. The Corporal held open the gate with his best
salute, and they cantered down over the park, Colonel George turning in
his saddle to look back and wave his hand before they finally
disappeared from sight.
"It is pleasant to see Colonel Fitzdenys again," said Lady Eleanor to
the Corporal, as he held the door for her.
"It's a treat to look upon his face, my Lady," said the Corporal, "a
noble gentleman like that who never forgets the humblest of his
friends. I've always said that if I were not in your Ladyship's
service there is no one that I would serve so willingly as he. 'Tis no
wonder that his honour the Captain and he were friends, for there
wasn't two such gentlemen in the army."
So when the children rejoined the Corporal they heard nothing but the
praises of Colonel Fitzdenys, of his bravery, his gentleness, and his
excellence as an officer; all of which they passed on in the evening to
Lady Eleanor, who seemed quite content to hear it.