Chapter Thirteen.
Learning to Ride.
The riding-lessons duly began the next day, and, continuing each morning of the week, proved a veritable godsend to the four young people, in providing amusement for hours which might otherwise have hung somewhat heavily on their hands. The season was yet too young for outdoor games, and in the early stages of their mutual acquaintanceship it was difficult to keep up a perpetual flow of conversation. Some occupation of general interest was thus badly needed, and this was supplied by the delightful canters over the moors—delightful, despite the drawbacks which were inseparable from inexperience.
On the first morning the girls were kept sternly in hand by the careful groom, each taken in turn for an amble along a quiet road under his own supervision; while the other strolled about, feeling very fine and large as she held up the skirt of her habit, and nonchalantly flicked her whip to and fro.
From the safe vantage of the ground also it was amusing to watch Jack Melland’s plungings to and fro, and offer him good advice as to the management of his steed. Jack, needless to say, disdained the groom’s good offices, and set forth confident of being able to master any horse by the sheer force of his manhood. His seat was not elegant, certainly, and for once he was at a distinct disadvantage beside Victor, who looked his best on horseback, and was evidently an experienced rider.
On the third day the horses were led to the broad road, crossing the well-treed park, and, after half an hour’s patient trotting to and fro, Ruth was started on her first independent canter, which was fated to have an ignominious end; for the horse, impatient of restraint, increased its pace to a gallop, which swiftly left the groom behind and sent its rider’s composure to the winds. Her foot slipped from the stirrup, she dropped her whip, clung wildly to the pommel, and, regardless of dignity, screamed for help at the pitch of her voice. It seemed an eternity of time, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes, before Victor overtook her, and leaning forward, seized the reins and brought both horses to a halt.
The groom came running up behind, followed by Jack, jogging painfully up and down on his saddle, while Mollie puffed and panted in the rear. Their faces were all keen with alarm, but fear changed to amusement at the sight of Ruth with hat cocked rakishly at one side and a thick coil of hair hanging snake-like down her back. She looked piteously for comfort, and, meeting only smiles, drew herself up with what was intended to be an air of haughty disdain; but it is difficult to look haughty when with every moment fresh hairpins are falling to the ground, and with the descent of fresh coils your hat is continually assuming a still more impudent angle.
“You do look a sight!” cried Mollie with sisterly candour, and Ruth beckoned imperiously to the groom to help her to dismount.
“Take me down! I’ve had enough of this for one morning. You must give me another horse to-morrow, Bates. I’ll never trust myself on this hateful creature again. No, thank you, I prefer to walk on my own feet.” She jumped to the ground and stood twisting up her hair, her cheeks aflame with mingled fright and annoyance—a sight, indeed, as Mollie had remarked, though the young men’s translation of the term was not perhaps precisely the same as her own.
“I’ll put in a thousand hairpins next time,” she said angrily, as she fastened the coils to the best of her ability, and straightened the rakish hat. “You had better see that your hair is safe, Mollie, before you have your turn. I am going to sit down on the grass and jeer at you for a change. It’s so easy to be superior when you are doing nothing yourself!”
“I shan’t hang on to my pommel, anyway, and I won’t call, ‘Help, murder, thieves!’ whatever happens,” cried Mollie lightly. “I am going round this curve, so you can all watch and see how well I do it!”
She flicked her horse’s side as she spoke with quite a professional air of unconcern, and started off at a brisk canter, holding herself resolutely erect, despite the ever-increasing pain in the small of her back. Echoes of “Bravo! bravo!” followed her down the path and goaded her to increased exertion. A second flip on Prince’s back sent him forward at such a surprising increase of speed that, involuntarily, she gripped the pommel; then, remembering her resolve, let go her hold to hang on more and more tightly to the reins.
Prince tossed his head and gave an expostulatory amble. Mollie set her lips and pulled the stronger. She was not conscious that the right hand pulled more strongly than the left, but that it did so was proved by the fact that the horse gradually abandoned the path and directed its course across the grass. The watchers behind gave cries of warning as they saw what was happening, but in her agitation Mollie mistook their meaning for more applause and dashed headlong on her way.
She was so much occupied in keeping her seat that she had no eyes to discover danger ahead, but the groom looked with dismay at the low-spreading trees on right and left, and raced across the grass to intercept her progress. He was too late, however. Maddened by the incessant dragging of the reins Prince galloped ahead, skirting so closely a clump of trees that it was only by crouching low over the saddle that Mollie escaped accident. The watchers drew deep breaths of relief, but renewed their anxiety as once more horse and rider disappeared from sight behind a giant elm, whose branches hung threateningly towards the ground.
Ruth gripped her habit in both hands and sped across the grass after the groom; the two young men galloped ahead; and from one and all came a second cry of alarm, as a moment later Prince sounded his appearance careering wildly along riderless and free.
What were they going to see? A helpless form stretched on the ground; a white unconscious face; a terrible, tell-tale wound? A dozen horrible pictures suggested themselves one after the other in those breathless seconds; but when the fatal spot was reached there was no figure upon the ground, senseless or the reverse; no Mollie was seen to right or left.
It seemed as if the earth had opened and swallowed her up, until a feeble squeak made the rescuers lift their eyes suddenly to the heart of the tree, where a black skirt and two small kicking feet were seen swinging to and fro in the air. Another step forward showed the whole picture, gauntleted hands clutching wildly to a bough, and a pink agonised face turned over one shoulder, while a little pipe of a voice called out gaspingly—
“Catch me! hold me! take me down! oh, my arms! I’m falling, falling, I’m falling! oh, oh, oh—I’m falling down!” And fall she did, so suddenly and violently that the groom, although a stoutly built man, tottered beneath her weight.
The ordinary heroine of fiction is so frail and ethereal in build that when she faints away, under a stress of emotion, the hero gathers her lovely form in his arms and carries her for a couple of miles with delightful ease; but Mollie Farrell was a healthy, well-grown girl; and for one agonising moment it appeared as if the sequel to the adventure was to be an ignominious tumble to the ground of rescuer and rescued.
The moment passed, the groom steadied himself with an involuntary “Whoa!” and Mollie turned to confront her friends, swaying painfully to and fro, with crossed hands pressing against each shoulder.
“Oh, my arms! my arms! They are torn out of their sockets! I know they are! The pain is really hideous!”
“What happened? How did you manage to perform such an acrobatic feat?” cried Jack, now that anxiety was appeased, unable to resist a smile at the remembrance of the pretty, comical picture, and the undignified descent to the ground; but Mollie snapped him up sharply, her sense of humour absolutely eclipsed by the pain she was suffering.
“It wasn’t a feat! I saw the bough before me and I thought I should be killed, and I put out my hands to save myself and—I don’t know how it happened; but the next moment that horrid, wicked animal slipped from under me, and my arms were jerked nearly out of my body, and I was left dangling in mid-air. It’s perfectly hateful of you all to stand there and laugh! I might have been killed outright if it hadn’t been for Bates.”
“You were only a yard or so from the ground; you could have dropped down yourself without making a fuss. I kept my seat at any rate, and I didn’t howl half so loudly!” said Ruth self-righteously. “What made you do anything so mad as to ride in among all those trees?”
“I didn’t! It was the horse; he would go, whatever I did,” protested Mollie feebly: whereupon Bates shook his head with solemn disapproval.
“We’ve got to be very thankful as matters is no worse,” said the alarmed groom. “I shall have a fine lecturing from the squire when he hears of this, but you will bear me witness as it was against my wishes. If I’d had my way you would never have ventured off by yourselves, for another week at least, but there was no gainsaying you. I’m thinking you’ll have had about enough lesson for to-day, and I must look after those horses. To-morrow—”
“To-morrow we’ll be good and docile, and do as you tell us. My nerves are too shaken to be disobedient; but don’t be afraid; you shan’t be scolded for what isn’t your fault,” said Ruth with her pretty smile. Bates touched his cap and walked off, mollified, while the girls turned sadly homeward. Jack and Victor offered their escort, but, finding it impossible to disguise all traces of amusement, were promptly snubbed and bidden to go and be superior by themselves.
“I do hate men! horrid, patronising creatures!” cried Mollie pettishly, as she limped onwards. “They think themselves so grand because they are stronger than we are, and have no tiresome skirts to hamper them. I don’t like riding half as much as I expected. I’m so stiff and sore, I should like to go to bed for a month. I shall lie down this afternoon. I’ll get a nice book, and pull the sofa up to the window, and have tea brought up to me; and I just hope it will rain and pour, and they will have nothing to do and be bored to death, and then they will miss me, and be sorry that they were so rude. Laughing, indeed, when I was in danger of my life, before their very eyes!”
“You were safe enough before they laughed, and you did look funny hanging in mid-air! You didn’t think it was cruel to laugh at me, and I was just as much frightened as you were!” retorted Ruth; and thereafter a frigid silence was maintained until the Court was reached.
At lunch Mr Farrell appeared with a clouded brow, and vouchsafed only monosyllabic replies when addressed. It was evident that something had displeased him, and, though no reference was made to the adventures of the morning, the young people had discovered by now that he possessed a mysterious power of knowing all about their actions, in sight or out of sight, and felt correspondingly ill at ease. When the meal was over and the servants had left the room, the storm burst suddenly. The sunken eyes gleamed with an angry light, and the tired voice sounded unusually loud and threatening.
“Has neither of you two young men the sense or the prudence to prevent a lady from running a foolish risk? I am informed that Ruth was in danger of having a serious accident this morning. I am not personally able to look after her safety, and she was possibly ignorant of her own folly in attempting more than she could accomplish; but I had imagined that in my absence she had two sufficient protectors—one of whom, at least, I understand to be an accomplished horseman.”
Victor flushed deeply, and the lids fell over his tell-tale eyes.
“No one regrets Miss Ruth’s fright more than I do, sir. She had been such an apt pupil that I did not imagine that there was any danger in trying a little canter on her own account. Bates disapproved of it, but I am afraid I sided against him. I can only promise to be more careful in future.”
“It was no one’s fault but my own, Uncle Bernard,” interrupted Ruth eagerly. “I was conceited and thought I could do anything I liked, and I have learnt a lesson—that’s all! I was frightened, but I hung on so tightly to the pommel that I don’t think there was any real danger of falling. I really will be careful not to run any more risks.”
“I trust you will. I feel responsible for your safety while you are under my roof, and it will be a severe strain on my nerves if I cannot rely on your discretion. Are you feeling any ill effects from your fright? Can Mrs Wolff help you in any way, or perhaps the doctor—”
Ruth gave an involuntary exclamation of surprise and protest, and the colour rushed into her cheeks. It was so surprising, so extraordinary that Uncle Bernard should betray such concern for her safety and actually suggest sending for a doctor on her behalf. Her heart beat high with the conviction that she was, indeed, his favourite, his Chosen, and that therefore her safety was all-important for the success of his scheme.
She turned her grey eyes upon him with a liquid glance of gratitude, as she faltered out words of acknowledgment.
“Oh no, indeed, it is quite unnecessary! Thank you so much all the same. I am vexed with myself for having upset you by being so headstrong, and didn’t hurt myself a bit.”
“That is well, then!” Mr Farrell rose from the table and turned slowly towards the door. As he did so he found himself suddenly confronted by another face—a bright-eyed, mutinous girl’s face, so transparently charged with speech that he stopped short, uttering an involuntary inquiry—
“Well! what is it? What have you got to say?”
Mollie’s lips parted, her head tilted to the side.
“I was in danger, too! much more than she was. I did tumble off! I hung on to the branch of a tree. I might have been injured most dreadfully.”
“Ah–ah!” said Mr Farrell slowly. He turned his head aside, and his lips twitched uncertainly. “You! But you, my dear Mary, can take such uncommonly good care of yourself!”