The dressing of herself, the arranging of her sidesaddle on Lightning Speed, the starting for the celebrated gorge, would take her altogether about half-an-hour, the gorge being some distance from the Palace of the Kings.
At half-past eleven, therefore, she might safely get up and prepare for her task. Every other girl in the school was long in bed and sound asleep. The servants had retired to their rooms, the teachers had gone to their rest, for to-morrow was to be a great day, as the Duke himself was expected to present the lockets to the six successful candidates for the prizes. The great Ardshiel would be at the school to-morrow at mid-day, and Mrs Macintyre thought she had better go to bed early. She was always the last to sit up in the Palace of the Kings; but to-night she went to her room at sharp eleven, a little weary, a little perplexed, a little sorry, for she had read Leucha's vindictive essay, and felt that she could not possibly keep such a girl any longer in the school.
CHAPTER XXVI.
HOLLYHOCK'S DEED OF VALOUR.
Little did any one in that great house suspect what was going on during those hours devoted to peaceful slumber. Mrs Macintyre was dreaming of the Duke, and of the great honour he was about to confer on her school. Leucha, worn-out and unhappy, was sleeping peacefully at last. Every girl in the school was at rest, with the exception of the one girl who had yet to perform her feat of valour. There was, however, one exception to the intense peace of the school, and that exception was Magsie, who, although she never imagined such an awful catastrophe as might occur, still was full of a latent uneasiness with regard to Miss Hollyhock. Magsie slept, of course, because she was tired; but she woke again because her dreams were bad. They were all about bonnie Miss Hollyhock and Lightning Speed. She felt so anxious that after some time she rose softly, left the other servants, and crept out into the moonlight night.
It was now past midnight, and the moon was setting. Magsie's steps first took her in the direction of the stables. She peeped into one stall after another. There was no sign anywhere of Lightning Speed. This was quite sufficient for the brave Scots lass. She made up her mind and acted accordingly.
Meanwhile Hollyhock, a little before half-past eleven o'clock, had risen very gently, and carefully adjusted her habit and her little scarlet cap, which she was fond of wearing when she rode with Dumpy Dad. Her scarlet ribbons kept her hair tied tightly back—those long, thick, magnificent black locks of hers. As a rule, when she rode with her father she wore her hair unbound, floating wildly in the breeze; but she thought Lightning Speed would like her best to-night in her present attire. She had chosen an old habit of dark Lincoln green. She glanced at herself for a moment in the glass. Why would her head keep aching, aching, when she looked so well, when her cheeks were so bright and her great black eyes so sparkling?
It is true that when she touched her forehead she felt it feverishly hot, but she could not be in any way ill; that was impossible. She had never looked better, and looks would sometimes show signs of illness. How bad, for instance, poor Leuchy had looked after she, Hollyhock, had played the prank on her; how withered up, like an apple all overripe—her eyes so dim, her scanty locks so faded! Well, she must not think of Leuchy now; only she would have been a little happier if Leuchy had given her the kiss she had asked for.
The maids of England were cold. She, Hollyhock, could not understand them, could not attempt to fathom them. She crept softly downstairs, gathering her habit over her arm.