The ponies were pulling hard, and had got their mouths so thoroughly set against my aunt's iron hand, that she might as well have been driving with a pair of halters for any power she had over them, when a rush of colts in an adjoining paddock on one side of the lane, and a covey of partridges "whirring up" out of a turnip-field on the other, started them both at the same moment. My aunt gave a slight scream, clutched at her reins with a jerk; down went the ponies' heads, and we were off, as hard as ever they could lay legs to the ground, along a deep-rutted narrow lane, with innumerable twistings and turnings in front of us, for a certainty, and the off-chance of a wagon and bell team blocking up the whole pa.s.sage before we could emerge upon the high road.

"Lay hold, Kate!" vociferated my aunt, pulling for her very life, with the veins on her bare wrists swelling up like whipcord. "Gracious goodness! can't you stop 'em? There's a gravel-pit not half a mile farther on! I'll jump out! I'll jump out!"

My aunt began kicking her feet clear of the sundry wraps and shawls, and the leather ap.r.o.n that kept our knees warm, though I must do her the justice to say that she still tugged hard at the reins. I saw such an expedient would be certain death, and I wound one arm round her waist, and held her forcibly down in her seat, while with the other I endeavoured to a.s.sist her in the hopeless task of stopping the runaway ponies. Everything was against us: the ground was slightly on the decline; the thaw had not yet reached the sheltered road we were travelling, and the wheels rung against its frozen surface as they spun round with a velocity that seemed to add to the excitement of our flying steeds. Ever and anon we bounded and b.u.mped over some rut or inequality that was deeper than usual. Twice we were within an inch of the ditch; once, for an awful hundred yards, we were balancing on two wheels; and still we went faster and faster than ever. The trees and hedges wheeled by us; the gravel road streamed away behind us. I began to get giddy and to lose my strength. I could hardly hope to hold my aunt in much longer, and now she began to struggle frightfully, for we were nearing the gravel-pit turn! Ahead of us was a comfortable fat farmer, jogging drowsily to market in his gig. I can see his broad, well-to-do back now. What would I have given to be seated, I had almost said _enthroned_, by his side? What a smash if we had touched him! I pulled frantically at the off-rein, and we just cleared his wheel. He said something; I could not make out what. I was nearly exhausted, and shut my eyes, resigning myself to my fate, but still clinging to my aunt. I think that if ever that austere woman was near fainting it was on this occasion. I just caught a glimpse of her white, stony face and fixed eyes; her terror even gave me a certain confidence. A figure in front of us commenced gesticulating and shouting and waving its hat. The ponies slackened their pace, and my courage began to revive.

"Sit still," I exclaimed to my aunt as I indulged them with a good strong "give-and-take" pull.

The gravel-pit corner was close at hand, but the figure had seized the refractory little steeds by their heads, and though I shook all over, and felt really frightened now the danger was past, I knew that we were safe, and that we owed our safety to a tall, ragged cripple with a crutch and a bandage over one eye.

My aunt jumped out in a twinkling, and the instant she touched _terra firma_ put her hand to her side, and began to sob and gasp and pant, as ladies will previous to an attack of what the doctors call "hysteria." She leant upon the cripple's shoulder, and I observed a strange, roguish sparkle in his unbandaged eye. Moreover, I remarked that his hands were white and clean, and his figure, if he hadn't been such a cripple, would have been tall and active.

"What shall I do?" gasped my aunt. "I won't get in; nothing shall induce me to get in again. Kate, give this good man half a crown. What a providential escape! He ought to have a sovereign. Perhaps ten shillings will be enough. How am I to get back? I'll walk all the way rather than get in."

"But, aunt," I suggested, "at any rate I must get to the station. Aunt Deborah is sure to think something has happened, and she ought not to be frightened till she gets stronger. How far is it to the station? I think I should not mind driving the ponies on."

In the meantime the fat farmer whom we had pa.s.sed so rapidly had arrived at the scene of action, his anxiety not having induced him in the slightest degree to increase the jog-trot pace at which all his ideas seemed to travel. He knew Lady Horsingham quite well, and now sat in his gig with his hat off, wiping his fat face, and expatiating on the narrow escape her ladyship had made, but without offering the slightest suggestion or a.s.sistance whatever.

At this juncture the cripple showed himself a man of energy.

"Your ladyship had best go home with this gentleman," said he, indicating the fat farmer, "if the young lady is not afraid to go on.

I can take care of her as far as the railway, if it's not too great a liberty, and bring the ponies back to the Hall afterwards, my lady?"

with an interrogative s.n.a.t.c.h at his ragged hat.

It seemed the best thing to be done under the circ.u.mstances. My aunt, after much demurring and another incipient attack of the hysterics, consented to entrust herself to the fat farmer's guidance, not, however, until she was a.s.sured that his horse was both blind and broken-winded. I put Mouse's bridle down on the lower bar instead of the cheek, on which he had previously been driven. My aunt climbed into the gig; I mounted the pony-carriage, the cripple took his seat deferentially by my side, and away we went on our respective journeys; certainly in a mode which we had little antic.i.p.ated when we left the front door at Dangerfield Hall.

My preserver sat half in and half out of the carriage, leaning his white, well-shaped hand upon the splashboard. The bandaged side of his face was towards me. The ponies went quietly enough; they had enjoyed their gallop, and were, I think, a little blown. I had leisure to take a good survey of my companion. When we had thus travelled for a quarter of a mile in silence he turned his face towards me. We looked at each other for about half a minute, and then both burst out laughing.

"You didn't know me, Miss Coventry! not the least in the world,"

exclaimed the cripple, pulling the bandage off his face, and showing another eye quite as handsome as the one that had previously been uncovered.

"How could you do so, Captain Lovell?" was all I could reply.

"Conceive if my aunt had found you out, or even if any one should recognize you now. What would people think of _me_? But how did you know we were going to London to-day, and how could you tell the ponies would run away?"

"Never mind how I knew your movements, Miss Coventry," was the reply.

"Kate! may I call you Kate? it's such a soft, sweet name," he added, now sitting altogether _inside_ the carriage, which certainly was a small one for two people. "You don't know how I've watched for you, and waited and prowled about, during the last few days. You don't know how anxious I've been only for one word--even one look. I've spent hours out on the Down just to see the flutter of your white dress as you went through the shrubbery--even at that distance it was something to gaze at you and know you were there. Last night I crossed the ice under your window."

"You did indeed!" I replied with a laugh; "and what a ducking you must have got!"

Frank laughed too, and resumed. "I was sadly afraid that your aunt might have found out you were holding a parley with the enemy outside the walls. I knew you were to go to London to-day. I thought very likely you might be annoyed, and put under surveillance on my account, and I was resolved to see you, if only for one moment; so I borrowed these ragged garments of a professional beggar, who I believe is a great deal better off in reality than myself, and I determined to watch for your carriage and trust to chance for a word, or even a glance of recognition. She has befriended me more than I could expect.

At first, when I saw 'Aunt Deborah' alone in the chariot, it flashed across me that perhaps you were to stay _en penitence_ at Dangerfield.

But I knew Lady Horsingham had a pony-carriage. I also knew--or what would be the use of servants?--that it was ordered this morning; so I stumped gaily along the road, thinking that at all events I might have an opportunity of saying three words to you at the station whilst the servants were putting the luggage on, and the dear aunts, who I presume cherish a mutual hatred, were wishing each other a tender farewell. But that such a chance as this runaway should befriend me was more than I ever dared to hope for, and that I should be sitting next _you_, Kate (and _so close_, I'm sure he might have added), in Lady Horsingham's pony-phaeton is a piece of good luck that in my wildest moments I never so much as dreamt of. We scarcely ever meet now. There--you needn't drive so fast; the up-train don't go by till the half-hour, and every minute is precious, at least to _me_. We are kept sadly apart, Kate. If you can bear it, I can't. I should like to be near you always--always to watch over you and worship you. Confound that pony! he's off again."

Sure enough, Tiny was indulging in more vagaries, as if he meditated a second fit of rebellion; and what with holding him and humouring Mouse, and keeping my head down so as to hide my face from Frank, for I didn't want him to see how I was blushing, I am sure I had enough to do.

"Kate, you must really have pity on me," pursued Frank. "You don't know how miserable I am sometimes (I wonder what he wanted me to say?), or how happy you have it in your power to make me. Here we are at that cursed station, and my dream is over. I must be the cripple and the beggar once more--a beggar I am indeed, Kate, without your affection. When shall we meet again, and where?"

"In London," was all I could answer.

"And you won't forget me, Kate?" pleaded poor Frank, looking so handsome, poor fellow.

"_Never_," I replied, and before I knew how it was, I found myself standing on the platform with Aunt Deborah and the servants and the luggage. The great green engine was panting and gasping in front of me, but ponies and pony-carriage and cripple had all vanished like a dream.

As we steamed on to London I sometimes thought it _was_ a dream, not altogether a pleasant one, nor yet exactly the reverse. I should have liked my admirer to have been a little more explicit. It is all very well to talk of being miserable and desperate, and to ring the changes of meeting and parting, and looks and sighs, and all that; but after all the real question is, "Will you?" or "Won't you?" and I don't think a man is acting very fairly towards a girl who don't put the case in that way at once before he allows himself to run into rhapsodies about his feelings and his sufferings and such matters, which, after all, lead to nothing, or at least to nothing satisfactory. To be sure, men are strange creatures, and upon my word I sometimes think they are more troubled with shyness than our own s.e.x. Perhaps it's their diffidence that makes them hesitate so, and, as it were, "beat about the bush," when they have only got to "flush the bird" and shoot it at once and put it in the game-bag. Perhaps it's their pride for fear of being refused. Now, I think it's far more creditable to a man to wear the willow, and take to _men dinners_ and brandy-and-water for a month or six weeks, than to break a girl's heart for a whole year; and I know it takes nearly that time for a well-brought-up young lady to get over a _real_ matrimonial disappointment. However, shy or not shy, they certainly ought to be explicit. It's too bad to miss a chance because we cannot interpret the metaphor in which some bashful swain thinks it decorous to couch his proposals; and I once knew a young lady who, happening to dislike needlework, and replying in the negative to the insidious question, "Can you sew a b.u.t.ton?" never knew for months that she had actually declined a man she was really fond of, with large black whiskers, and two-and-twenty hundred a year. Women can't be too cautious.

CHAPTER XVI.

I was not sorry to be once again fairly settled in Lowndes Street.

Even in the winter London has its charms. People don't watch everything you do or carp at everything you say. If there is more apparent constraint, there is more real liberty than in the country.

Besides, you have so much society, and everybody is so much pleasanter in the metropolis during December than July. The frost had set in again harder than ever. Brilliant and White Stockings, like "Speir-Adam's steeds," were compelled to "bide in stall." John was lingering at the Lloyds or elsewhere in the Princ.i.p.ality, though expected back every day. Aunt Deborah was still weak, and had only just sufficient energy to forbid Captain Lovell the house, and insist on my never speaking to him. I can't think what she had found out or what Aunt Horsingham had told her; but this I know, that if ever I have a daughter, and I don't want her to like Mr. Dash, or to be continually thinking about him, I shall not forbid her to speak to him; nor shall I take every opportunity of impressing on her that he is wild, unprincipled, reckless, and dissipated, and that the only redeeming points about him are his agreeable conversation and his good looks. Altogether, I should have been somewhat dull had it not been for Mrs. Lumley; but of that vivacious lady I saw a good deal, and I confess took a far greater pleasure in her society than on our first acquaintance I should have esteemed possible. When I am ill at ease with myself, not thoroughly satisfied with my own conduct, I always like the society of _fast_ people; their liberality of sentiment and general carelessness of demeanour convey no tacit reproach on my own want of restraint, and I feel more at home with them than with such severe moralists as Aunt Horsingham or hypocritical Cousin Amelia. So I drove and shopped and visited with Mrs. Lumley--nay, I was even permitted as a great favour to dine with her on one or two occasions, Aunt Deborah only stipulating that there should be no male addition to the party except Mr. Lumley himself, or, as the lady of the house termed him, "her old man."

I confess I liked the "old man," and so I think in her own way did his wife. Why she married him I cannot think, more particularly as he had not then succeeded to the comfortable fortune they now enjoy: he was little, old, ugly, decrepit, and an invalid, but he was good nature and contentment personified. I believe he had great talents--for all his want of physical beauty he had a fine head--but these talents were wholly and unsparingly devoted to one pursuit: he was an entomologist.

With a black beetle and a microscope he was happy for the day. Piles upon piles of ma.n.u.scripts had he written upon the forms and cla.s.sification of the bluebottle fly. He could tell you how many legs are flourished by the house-spider, and was thoroughly versed in the anatomy of the common gnat. This pursuit, or science as he called it, engrossed his whole attention. It was fortunate he had such an absorbing occupation, inasmuch as his general debility prevented his entering into any amus.e.m.e.nt out of doors. His wife and he seemed to understand each other perfectly.

"My dear," he would say when listening to some escapade that it would have been scarcely prudent to trust to most husbands' ears, "I never interfere with your b.u.t.terflies, and you never trouble yourself about mine. I must, however, do myself the justice to observe that you get tired of your insects infinitely the soonest of the two."

He never inquired where she went or what she did, but late or early always received her with the same quiet welcome, the same sly, good-humoured smile. I firmly believe that with all her levity, whatever scandal might say, she was a good wife to him. He trusted her implicitly; and I think she felt his confidence deserved to be respected. Such was not the opinion of the world, I am well aware; but we all know the charitable construction it is so eager to put on a fair face with a loud laugh and a good set of teeth. Dear me! if he looked for a lady that had never been _talked about_, Caesar might have searched London for a wife in vain. Good Mr. Lumley professed a great affection for me, and would occasionally favour me with long and technical dissertations on the interior economy of the flea, for example; and once in the fullness of his heart confided to his wife that "Miss Coventry was really a _dear_ girl; it's my belief, Madge, that if she'd been a man she'd have been a naturalist." These little dinners were indeed vastly agreeable. n.o.body had such a comfortable house or such a good cook or so many pretty things as Mrs. Lumley. Her "old man" seemed to enjoy the relaxation of ladies' society after his morning labours and researches. With me he was good-humoured and full of fun; at his wife's jokes and stories, most of them somewhat scandalous, he would laugh till he cried.

"I'm responsible for you, Miss Coventry," he would say with a sly laugh. "You're not fit to be trusted with Madge; upon my life, I believe she is the wildest of the two. If you won't have the carriage, I must walk back with you myself.--How far is it, Madge? Do you think I can _stay the distance_, as you sporting people term it in your inexplicable jargon?"

"Why, you know you can't get a hundred yards, you foolish old man,"

laughed his wife. "A nice chaperon you'd make for Kate. Why, she'd have to carry you, and you know you'd tumble off even then. No, no; you and I will stay comfortably here by the fire, and I'll give you your tea and put you tidily to bed. I shan't be home any other night this week. Kate has a convoy coming for her;--haven't you, Kate?--_Le beau cousin_ will take the best possible care of us; and even prim Aunt Deborah won't object to our walking back with _him_. I believe he came up from Wales on purpose. What would somebody else give to take the charge off his hands?--You needn't blush, Kate; I can see through a millstone as far as my neighbours. I'm not quite such a fool as I look;--am I, 'old man'?--There's the doorbell.--John, ask Mr. Jones if he won't step up and have some tea." We were sitting by a blazing fire in the boudoir, a snug and beautiful little room, to which no one was admitted but the lady's especial favourites; even the "old man" never entered it during the day.

"Mr. Jones's compliments, and he hopes you'll excuse him, ma'am," was the footman's answer on his return; "but it's very late, and he promised to bring Miss Coventry back by eleven."

"Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Lumley, "if I was you, Kate, I shouldn't stand his antic.i.p.ating his authority in this way. Never mind; be a good girl, and do as you're bid--pop your bonnet on. Shall I lend you an extra shawl? There, you may give my 'old man' a kiss, if you like.

Bless him! he's gone fast asleep. Good-night, Kate; mind you come to luncheon to-morrow, there's a dear." So saying, Mrs. Lumley bid me a most affectionate farewell; and I found myself leaning on John's arm, to walk home through the clear frosty night.

I do like perambulating London streets by gaslight--of course with a gentleman to take care of one. It is so much pleasanter than being stewed up in a brougham. How I wish it was the fashion for people to take their bonnets out to dinner with them, and walk back in the cool fresh air! If it is delightful even in winter, how much more so in the hot summer nights of the season! Your spirits rise and your nerves brace themselves as you inhale the midnight air, with all its smoky particles, pure by comparison with that which has just been poisoning you in a crowded drawing-room. Your cavalier asks leave to indulge in his "weed," and you enjoy its fragrance at second-hand as he puffs contentedly away and chats on in that prosy, confidential sort of manner which no _man_ ever succeeds in a.s.suming, save with a cigar in his mouth. John lit his, of course, but was less communicative, to my fancy, than usual. After asking me if I had "enjoyed a pleasant evening," and whether "I _preferred_ walking," he relapsed into a somewhat constrained silence. I too walked on without speaking. Much as I love the night, it always makes me rather melancholy; and I dare say we should have got to Lowndes Street without exchanging a syllable, had not some imp of mischief prompted me to cross-examine my cousin a little upon his _sejour_ in Wales, and to quiz him half spitefully on his supposed _penchant_ for pretty f.a.n.n.y Lloyd. John _rose_ freely in a moment.

"I know where you pick up all this nonsense, Kate," he burst out quite savagely; "I know where half the scandal and half the mischief in London originates! With that odious woman whose house we have just quitted, whose tongue cannot be still for a single moment; who never by any chance speaks a word of truth, and who is seldom so happy as when she is making mischief. I pity that poor decrepit husband of hers, though he ought to keep her in better order; yet it _is_ a hard case upon any man to be tied to such a Jezebel as _that_."

"The Jezebel, as you call her, John," I interposed quietly, "is my most intimate friend."

"That's exactly what I complain of," urged my cousin; "that's my great objection to her, Kate; that's one of the things that I do believe are driving me out of my senses day by day. You know I don't wish you to a.s.sociate with her; you know that I object extremely to your being seen everywhere in her company. But you don't care: the more I expostulate the more obstinate and wilful you seem to become."

It is my turn to be angry now.

"Obstinate and wilful indeed!" I repeated, drawing myself up. "I should like to know what right you have to apply such terms to _me_!

Who gave _you_ authority to choose my society for me, or to determine where I shall go or what I shall do? You presume on your relationship, John; you take an ungenerous advantage of the regard and affection which I have always entertained for you."

John was mollified in an instant.

"_Do_ you entertain regard and affection for me, Kate?" said he; "do you value my good opinion and consider me as your dearest and best friend?"