MISS GRAHAM ‘STROKED ME UPON THE NECK.’
I felt by the touch that Miss Graham was driving me—a little experience soon tells a horse who is behind him; and we soon entered upon a quiet part of the road, when the gentle strain relaxed, and I was allowed to have my own way. I trotted on, with an occasional walk, for an hour or more, and then the reins tightened, and I was turned towards home.
All the way Nellie prattled to her father, and all her talk was what she would do next summer. Next summer she would be so well and happy. Archibald—that was her brother—would take his degree and be home for a holiday; and Harry,—here her voice quivered a little—who loved her, and was over the sea, would be back again. Next summer was to be everything to her;—but she had entered upon her last summer here! To all this Mr. Graham said little; but in every word he uttered I detected a ring of sorrow and compassion: he knew what many others knew—that with her the day was far spent, and the night coming on. Oh, how I pitied them both! and I pitied them the more for the love I bore them—so kind, so gentle, so tender to me, who had known the rough road of life, and felt the thorns and briars which grow on every side. This day was but the type of many. If the sun shone and the wind was soft we invariably went out: not always the same road, but at all times seeking quiet thoroughfares, where I was allowed to travel as I pleased. A happy time for me—I had indeed fallen upon pleasant places. Well fed, well cared for, tenderly spoken to, treated as a horse should be, the days passed like hours, and the weeks like days, and so the summer fled. With the autumn came a change: our drives soon decreased in number, and at last entirely stopped. This was what I had feared—what I had looked forward to with dread and sorrow. My young mistress’s days were numbered, and she was—to use one of the tenderest expressions from the lips of man—going home. Her father knew, and all around her knew, that there was no hope; but this doctor was sent for, and that doctor was sent for, and took their fees, until the last. The only exercise I got was with Roberts, who took me out for a canter two or three times a week; and it was through the neighbours, who stopped the lad, to inquire how Miss Nellie was, that I learnt what I did about her. The death so long threatening came at last. The time is scored deep upon my memory, and the night my darling mistress passed away I shall never forget. Her brother—who was studying hard, so they said—was kept in ignorance of her condition almost to the last. It was her wish, I believe—one of the many unselfish thoughts of hers to which I could bear witness; and so when he came, the poor flickering flame of life was nearly gone. In the afternoon of the well-remembered day I heard Roberts tell the gardener that Miss Nellie was not expected to live throughout the night. This aroused my already absorbing interest, and touching with a ruder touch than I had known before the cores of my heart, kept me alive to every word and movement around me. The evening passed on, and the sun set amidst a mass of wind-tossed clouds, and with the night came storm and rain. It raged until midnight, and then the heavens cleared, and the stars came out with their twinkling faces looking down upon the wondering earth, emblems of peace, and rest, and hope. I was gazing at them through my half-open stable door, when Roberts came in and threw himself upon the straw, weeping bitterly; and the sorrow of the boy told me that all was over!
CHAPTER XI.
ANOTHER LOSS AND A DISAPPOINTMENT.
What I felt that night I do not care to tell—the sorrow of the time was too deep for words. I loved my mistress; she had come upon me like sunshine after storm—her very touch was balm to my wounded spirit—and she was gone! Roberts made a deal of noise over his sorrow, and I have no doubt he felt the loss; but his wound was not so deep as mine, I warrant you.
They buried my mistress quietly, as she wished; and then another misfortune came upon me. Mr. Graham was taken ill. Mr. Archibald did not go back to college, but remained with his father; and from this I argued that the illness was of a very serious nature. Then came a dread upon me of what was to come, and I was very unhappy indeed.
I saw very little of Mr. Archibald, and what I did see was not pleasing to me. He appeared to be very proud and imperious, and talked to everybody in a very commanding way. As for me, he only came once into the stable, and then he positively laughed at me, called me a ‘broken-down hack,’ and asked Roberts why I was not sent to the knacker’s.
‘Miss Nellie was very fond of Blossom, sir,’ replied Roberts; ‘he ain’t much to look at, but he ain’t a bad horse—he is very willing, sir.’