ITS CONSEQUENCES.
No one thought of the fate of Mr. Brown's favourite mare. All the
spectators clustered round the prostrate man. Maud Pendray looked on him
as a hero; she seemed to worship him with her eyes. Blanche wept tears
of joy that he was saved from what everyone thought inevitable
destruction. Poor Mr. Brown didn't know what to say or do. He called
upon Peggy, and said several times, as if talking to his pet, "Wo! ho!
Jessie! gently, mare! steady, now!" And then the poor man sat down on a
rock, apart from the rest, and burst into tears.
Those of the party who alone were equal to the occasion, were Lieut.
Fowler and Josiah Trenow. They collected the few men together who
happened to be present, and, between them, they carried the
terror-stricken man to "The First and Last Inn," at Sennen--that being
the nearest public-house to the scene of the accident.
A man on horseback was despatched to Penzance for a surgeon, and the
patient was put to bed at once.
A fortnight passed away, and the patient was fast recovering, but he
could not shake off the gloomy and depressing thoughts, which were
continually recurring, whenever he heard the sea, or saw the cliffs.
One day, the surgeon announced that there was to be a grand ball at
Penzance, in about a fortnight,--the precise day was not fixed; and he
advised his patient to go. Change of scene, and the excitement of the
music and the dancing, and the company, he thought, would draw his mind
away from those ever-present and depressing thoughts. His friend Fowler
had promised to go with the Pendray party, and they were all delighted
to learn that Morley had consented to join them also.
Poor Alrina! it was an anxious day for her. She knew that her lover was
gone out on the mare to attempt that daring feat; and she knew, also,
the extent of the risk he was incurring,--for she had often, in her
solitary rambles, walked down to the edge of the Land's-End cliffs, and
looked over, out of curiosity, and it made her shudder when she thought
of him. Even should he be able to get the mare down to the
brink,--sitting there at the mercy of the horse, one false step, or a
moment's giddiness, must be fatal to both. In the midst of her
meditations, news was brought that the horse and its rider had both
fallen over the cliff, and were dashed in pieces. She threw herself on
her bed, and tried to believe that the report was false; but no,--she
feared it must be true, for she had before worked her mind up to the
belief that the feat could not be accomplished in safety.
She was overwhelmed with grief; and when Alice Ann came up, a few hours
afterwards, and told her that Josiah was downstairs, and had brought a
message for her from Mr. Morley, the sudden and blessed news that he was
alive, affected her almost as much as the dreadful news of his death had
done. She was quite overcome by her feelings. Sometimes she would laugh
heartily, and then burst into a torrent of tears, until it ended in a
violent fit of hysterics.
It was a long time before Alice Ann could pacify her, and she dared not
call in the assistance of Miss Freeman, for she knew that her aunt did
not sympathize with "young ladies' vagaries," as she called them.
Besides, she was again closeted with her brother, who had been from home
nearly all the day, and had but just returned.
When she was sufficiently recovered, Alrina saw Josiah, and received the
kind message which her lover had sent her; and from Josiah she heard the
true but sad tale. He told her all, from the beginning. Mr. Morley was
as weak as a young baby, he said, and for hours after the accident he
trembled all over, as he lay in bed, so that the bed shook under him.
The doctor had desired that he should be kept perfectly quiet, and that
a watch should be kept with him, night and day; for he feared delirium.
He had left Mr. Fowler with him now, he said; but Mr. Morley had
requested Josiah to return as soon as possible, and stay with him also;
for he had a strange nervous feeling that he was _still falling_, and
nothing relieved him but feeling Josiah's strong arm round his
waist;--he felt safe then, and so Josiah had sat for hours on the poor
terror-stricken young man's bed, holding him in his arms; and the
sufferer would cry out like a little frightened child, if his supporter
did but move, and beg him not to let him fall over,--for he could not
divest himself of the idea that he was still on the brink of the
precipice.
Alrina listened with profound attention to Josiah's description of the
scene, and of her lover's present prostrate condition. She longed to go
to him, and to be his nurse; but there were many reasons, both on his
account, and her own, why she should not do so.
She wrote a short note, which Josiah promised to deliver into his hands;
but he said he could not promise to bring an answer in writing, for Mr.
Morley's hand trembled so that he could not hold a pen, nor even the
glass in which he took his medicine.
Although her mind was set at rest in a measure, yet Alrina had enough
to occupy her thoughts till bedtime, and so she retired to her room
again, and desired Alice Ann to tell her aunt, if she enquired after
her, that she had a headache, and was gone to lie down a little.
Before she had been in her room long, however, Alice Ann came to the
door, and said "The Maister" wanted Miss Reeney at once.
"My father!" exclaimed Alrina; "what can he possibly want!"
"I do no more knaw than you," replied Alice Ann; "but he told me to
fetch you down, f'rall I told'n you wor gone to bed poorly."
"Well, I suppose I must obey," said Alrina, heaving a heavy sigh. "I
wonder what he wants me for? it is so unusual for him to send for me. I
wish I knew why he was so cruel as to order Frederick to perform that
perilous feat to-day,--some hidden motive, no doubt. I'll try and find
it out. I've a great mind to ask him, point blank; but then----"
"Come, Miss Reeney," said Alice Ann, coming to the door again; "'The
Maister' es axing when you're comin', so I told'n you wor dressin'."
When Alrina came out into the front passage from her bedroom, which was
in the back of the house looking into the little garden, she found her
father waiting for her near the door of his "private room." He opened
the door and desired her to follow him.
Her curiosity was to be gratified, then, at last, but not in the way she
very much liked, for she fancied that this interview would not be a very
pleasant one,--why, she didn't know. Perhaps her father was now about to
reveal some of those mysteries which hung over them. At another time she
might not have felt these painful forebodings, but her nerves had been
unstrung by the events of the day; and she felt now as if an unkind
word, or an unexpected disclosure, would upset her again. So much more
terrible are imaginary misfortunes and troubles oftentimes when seen at
a distance, than they are in reality, when they actually take place.
Mr. Freeman took his seat at the top of the room, near a large table,
and pointed to a chair, which Alrina felt was intended as an invitation
for her to be seated also. This gave her courage to look round the room.
There were some large boxes about, and several cupboards and a few more
chairs; but, in general appearance, the room was pretty much like other
sitting-rooms, except that it required to be dusted, she thought. And,
when she had finished her survey of the room, she had time to look at
her father again, before he spoke. He was evidently trying to overawe
her, and when she found out that, it gave her fresh courage.
Mr. Freeman, as he sat in that large, curiously-fashioned chair, seemed
a fine-looking man,--much younger in appearance than he generally
looked; because, as we have before stated, he affected the old man, and
seemed to wish to be thought much older than he really was.
"Alrina," he said, at length, "how did you become acquainted with that
young man?"
"What young man?" said she, as innocently as she could.
"Alrina!" he said again, looking at her sternly; "you know whom I mean,
and therefore let's have no prevarication."
"His sister was one of my schoolfellows," she replied, "and she
introduced me to her brother."
"Oh!" replied her father, smiling; "and you each became affected with
that incurable malady which silly people call 'love;' and you have met
him again? And where is your old schoolfellow now, pray?" asked Mr.
Freeman.
"She is residing with Mrs. Courland, I believe," replied Alrina, "at
Ashley Hall."
"Thank you, Alrina. That was all I wanted to know. Now, you can go to
your room again, if you don't feel well, and let the servant bring you
up some tea. Good night."
So, then, this terrible ordeal in the "private room," which Alrina had
dreaded so much but a few minutes before, and racked her brain to
imagine what her father could possibly want of her, had ended in his
asking a plain simple question or two, and her giving him answers to
match. And although she had intended to ask him why he had been so cruel
as to order that dangerous feat to be performed by that young stranger,
and many other important questions, she had been dismissed so abruptly,
that she had actually said nothing.
The whole scene seemed so absurd that she burst into a hearty laugh when
she reached her own little bedroom once more.