CHAPTER SEVEN.
A YOUNG LADY NOT IN LOVE.
"I do believe it's Reginald Trevor."
Sabrina said this in rejoinder, now certain it was not the man she hadclimbed that hill in hopes of meeting.
"I'm sure of it," affirmed Vaga, in confident tone as before. "If Icouldn't tell him, I can the horse--the light grey he always rides. Andthat's his dress--the colour at least. I don't think he has manychanges, exquisite as he is, or we'd have seen some of them atHollymead."
She made this remark with a smile of peculiar significance.
"Oh! yes; 'tis he," assented the sister, her eyes still upon him. "I'msure now, myself. The horse--yes, the dress too. And, see! a red plumein his hat--that's enough. I wonder where he's bound for--surely notHollymead!"
It was then the grave look already alluded to showed itself in her eyes."Perhaps you can tell, sister?" she added, interrogatively.
"Sabrina! why do you say that? How should I be acquainted with MrTrevor's movements or intentions--any more than yourself?"
"Ha--ha! What an artful little minx you are, Vag! A very mistress ofdeception!"
"You'll make me angry, Sab--I'm half that already."
"Without cause, then, or reason."
"Every reason."
"Name one."
"That you should suspect me of having a secret and keeping it from you."
"Goodness gracious! How just you are in your reproaches--you, who butthis very moment have been accusing me of that selfsame thing! I, allcandour, all frankness!"
Vaga was now flung back, as a sailor would say, on her "beam ends."For, in truth, she had made herself amenable to the charge.
"Oh! you innocent!" cried Sabrina, pressing her triumph. "Though youare three years younger than I, you're quite as old about some things,and this is _one_ of them."
"This what?"
"This that; the thing, or man, if he may be so called, we see ridingdown yonder road."
"You wrong me, sister; I've no secret concerning him. I never cared forRej Trevor in the way you appear to be hinting at--not three straws."
"Are you serious in what you say, Vag? Tell me the truth!"
There was an earnestness in the way the question was put--tone, air,everything--that bespoke more than a common interest about the answer.
It came, causing disappointment, with some slight vexation. For Vaga,thinking she had been badgered long enough, and, remembering, moreover,how very reticent the other had just shown herself, determined on havinga _revanche_. It was altogether in consonance with her nature; thoughshe had no idea of advantage beyond that of mere fun.
"Curiosity on the rack!" she triumphantly retorted. "What you've justbeen dooming me to! How does it feel, sister Sab!"
"Sister Sab" made no response; in turn being fairly conquered andcornered. But her silence and submissive look were more eloquent thanany appeal she could have made. And, responding to them, her conquerorrelentingly asked:
"Are you very, _very_ desirous of knowing how the case stands betweenmyself and Master Reginald Trevor?"
"I am, indeed. And when you've told me, I'll give you the reason."
"On that condition I'll tell you. He is nothing to me more than anyother man. And when I add that no other man is anything either, you'llunderstand me."
"But, sister dear, do you mean to say you _love_ no one?"
"I mean to say that--flat."
"And never have?"
"That's a queer question to be asked; above all by you, you who so oftenpreach the virtue of constancy, crying it into my ears! If I ever hadloved man, I think I should love him still. But as it chances, I don'tquite comprehend what the sensation is; never having experienced it.And more, I don't wish to; that is, if it were to affect me as it seemsto do you."
"What do you mean, Vaga?" asked the more sage sister, bristling up atthe innuendo. "Love affect me! You're only fancying! Nothing of thesort, I assure you."
"Oh! yes; much of the sort; though you might not yourself perceive it.Everybody else does, at least I do--have for a very long time--eversince he went off to the wars."
"What he?"
"Again counterfeiting. And vainly. Well, I won't gratify you by givinghis name this time. Enough to say that ever since you last saw him youhaven't been like you used to be. Why, Sab, I can remember when youwere as full of frolic as myself, or Hector here. Yet, for the last twoyears you've been as melancholy as a love-sick monkey. True, there'sbeen a little brightening up in you of late--no doubt due to thatletter. Ha--ha--ha!"
Sabrina laughed too, despite the unmerciful way she was being bantered.The allusion to "that letter" was not unpleasant. Its contents, verygratifying, had restored her heart's gladness and confidence. Not thatshe had ever doubted her lover's fealty, but only had fears for hislife. She said nothing, however, leaving the other to rattle on.
"And now, Miss Prim-and-Prudery, I want your reason for prying into mysecrets, after being so chary of your own; I demand it."
"Dear Vaga! you shall have it and welcome. After what you say, thereneed be no shyness in my telling you now. I was anxious about you onfather's account, and my own, too, as your sister."
"Anxious about me! For what?"
"Your relations with yonder individual."
She nodded towards the horseman with the red feather in his hat.
"Very good of father and you to be so concerned about me; but don't youthink I can take care of myself? I'm getting old enough to do that."
She was only a little over seventeen, but believed herself quite as mucha woman as Sabrina, who was three years her senior. She had the proud,independent spirit of one, and brooked no control by her older sister;on the contrary, rather exercised it herself. She was her father'sfavourite; a circumstance that would appear strange to those acquaintedwith his character. Hence, in part, her assumption of superiority.
"Of course you can," returned Sabrina, assentingly. "And I'm glad ofit."
"I suppose, then, it's owing to your and father's united solicitude onmy behalf that Master Rej Trevor hasn't shown his face at Hollymead forthe last couple of weeks."
"I've had nothing to do with it, Vaga."
"Which seems to say that somebody has, then. I suspected as much, byyour having said nothing about it. As you seem to know something, Sab,you may as well tell it me."
"I will--all I know. Which is, that father has forbidden his visits toHollymead. I only learnt it from our maid Gwenthian. It appears, thatthe last time Mr Trevor was at the house, she overheard a conversationbetween father and him; father telling him as much as that he would beno more welcome there."
"And what answer did the fine gentleman make? I suppose theeavesdropping Gwenthian heard that, too."
There was such evident absence of all emotion on the part of her whointerrogated, she could not well be making believe. The other, seeingshe was not, responded with confidence,--
"Nothing, or nothing much, except in mutterings, which the girl failedto catch the meaning of. But the nature may be imagined from the way hewent off--all scowling and angry, she says."
"Gwenthian has never mentioned the circumstance to me; which I take itis a little strange on her part."
She thought it so, for of the two she was more a favourite with thewaiting maid than her sister, and knew it. Between her and Gwenthian--aForest girl of quick wit and subtle intelligence--many confidences hadbeen exchanged. Therefore her wonder at this having been withheld.
"Not at all," rejoined Sabrina, entering upon a defence of Gwenthian'sreticence. "There was nothing strange in her keeping it from you. Shesupposed it might vex you--told me so."
"Ha--ha--ha! How thoughtful of her! But it don't vex me--luckily, no--not the least bit; and Gwenthian should have known that, as you knownow, Sab. Don't you?"
"I do," answered Sabrina, in full conviction. For Vaga's laugh was soutterly devoid of all regret at what had been revealed to her, no onecould suppose
or suspect there was within her breast a thought ofReginald Trevor, beyond looking on him in the light of a mereacquaintance. To prove this it needed neither her rejoinder, nor theemphasis she gave it, saying,--
"_I don't care that for him_!" the _that_ being a snap of her fingers.
"I wish father had but known you didn't."
"Why?"
"Well, it might have saved him the scene Gwenthian was witness to; andwhich must have been rather painful to both. After all, it may havebeen for the best. But, worst or best, I wonder where Master Trevor ismaking for now? It can't be Hollymead."
"Not likely, after what you've told me. But we shall soon see--at leastwhether he be coming up this way."
Both were familiar with the Forest roads--had ridden if not walked themall--knew their every turning and crossing. Where that from Mitcheldeandescended into the Drybrook valley it forked right and left at the fordof the little stream where now there is a bridge known as the "Nail."Left lay the road to Coleford, right, another leading back out of theForest by the Lea Bailey. And between these two branchings a thirdserpentined up the slope for Ruardean, over the ridge on which theystood.
While they were still regarding the horseman on the grey, and his groombehind, two other horsemen came in sight, riding side by side on thesame slope, just commencing its descent. Again Sabrina's eyes flashedup with delight--that must be her expected one--riding alongside hisservant.
While indulging in this pleasant conjecture, she was surprised at seeingstill another pair of mounted men, filing out from under the trees, sideby side also, and following the first two at that distance and with theair which seemed to proclaim them servitors.
"It may not be he, after all!" she reflected within herself, her browagain shadowing over. "He said he would be alone with only Hubert,and--"
Her reflections were brought to an abrupt termination by seeing the greyhorse, after plunging across the stream, turn head uphill in thedirection of Ruardean.
There was no time to make further scrutiny of the _quartette_ descendingthe opposite slope. In twenty minutes, or less if he meant speed, he onthe grey would be up to them; and if Reginald Trevor, that would beawkward, whether on his way to Hollymead or not.
It was Sabrina who now counselled hastening home; which they did with aquick free step their country training and Forest practice had madeeasy, as familiar, to them.