“Would you like to give him a piece, Miss Christie?” she asked.
But I would not have bestowed such an attention on a horse of Mr. Reade’s for worlds; and, leaving the child and her four-footed friend to continue their conversation, I walked away to gather some flowers for the tea-table, as it was the day for renewing them.
I had my hands half full by the time I heard the voices of the gentlemen at the window and the grinding of soft gravel under the horse’s hoofs as Mr. Reade mounted him. I was near the bottom of the drive, pulling off some small branches of copper beech to put among the flowers, when I heard Mr. Reade ride by behind me. I did not even look round until he called out, “Good-afternoon, Miss Christie;” and then I just turned my head over my shoulder and said stiffly, “Good afternoon,” and went on with my task. He had half pulled up his horse. I dare say he thought I wanted to talk to him. I was not going to let him make such an absurd mistake as that. So he rode on to the gate, and then he stopped, and presently I heard him utter impatient ejaculations, and I looked and saw that he was fumbling with his whip at the fastening of the gate.
“How stupid he is not to get off and open it with his fingers!” I thought contemptuously. “It is quite an easy fastening too. I believe I could do it on horseback directly.”
However, he still continued to make ineffectual efforts to raise the heavy latch, but each time the restive horse swerved or the whip slipped, until I stood watching the struggle intently, and grew quite excited and half inclined to call out to him “Now!” when the horse stood still for a minute. It seemed to me that he deliberately missed all the best opportunities, and I was frowning with impatience, when he suddenly looked up and his eyes met mine. There was nothing for it then but in common civility to go and open the gate for him myself; so I walked up the drive very reluctantly and opened it wide without a smile.
“Thank you, thank you—so much obliged to you! I wouldn’t have given you so much trouble for worlds. If only this brute would stand still!”
“Pray don’t mention it. It is no trouble at all,” I said icily, occupied in keeping my armful of flowers together.
And he raised his hat and rode off at a walking pace, while I shut the gate and turned to go down the drive again. I had such a curiously hurt and disappointed feeling—I could not tell why; but I supposed that, being a dependant, I was naturally very sensitive, and it was surely a slight on Mr. Reade’s part not even to speak to me when we were all in the drawing-room.
“I dare say he wouldn’t have let me open the gate for him if I hadn’t been only a governess,” I thought, as a lump came into my throat. “I wish I hadn’t—oh, I wish I hadn’t! I wish I had let him get off his horse, or jump over it, or anything rather than make me play groom for him.”
And the flowers I was looking at began to grow misty, when again I heard hoofs behind me and the latch of the gate go, and, glancing round, I saw Mr. Reade on horseback inside the gate. He had opened it without any difficulty this time. He seemed to look a little embarrassed, “ashamed of his own clumsiness the first time,” I thought severely; and, jumping off his horse, he led him towards me, saying—