Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER IX.

  ADELAIDE.

  The next afternoon Lord Welter and Charles rode up to the door atRanford. The servants looked surprised; they were not expected. Hislordship was out shooting; her ladyship was in the poultry-yard; Mr.Pool was in the billiard-room with Lord Saltire.

  "The deuce!" said Lord Welter; "that's lucky, I'll get him to break itto the governor."

  The venerable nobleman was very much amused by the misfortunes of theseingenuous youths, and undertook the commission with great good nature.But, when he had heard the cause of the mishap, he altered his toneconsiderably, and took on himself to give the young men what was for hima severe lecture. He was sorry this had come out of a drunken riot; hewished it ... which, though bad enough, did not carry the disgrace withit that the other did. Let them take the advice of an old fellow who hadlived in the world, ay, and moved with the world, for above eightyyears, and take care not to be marked, even by their own set, asdrinking men. In his day, he allowed, drinking was entirely _derigueur_; and indeed nothing could be more proper and correct than thewhole thing they had just described to him, if it had happened fiftyyears ago. But now a drunken row was an anachronism. Nobody drank now.He had made a point of watching the best young fellows, and none of themdrank. He made a point of taking the time from the rising young fellows,as every one ought to, who wished to go with the world. In his day, forinstance, it was the custom to talk with considerable freedom on sacredsubjects, and he himself had been somewhat notorious for that sort ofthing; but look at him now: he conformed with the times, and went tochurch. Every one went to church now. Let him call their attention tothe fact that a great improvement had taken place in public morals oflate years.

  So the good-natured old heathen gave them what, I daresay, he thoughtwas the best of advice. He is gone now to see what his system ofmorality was worth. I am very shy of judging him, or the men of histime. It gives me great pain to hear the men of the revolutionary eraspoken of flippantly. The time was so exceptional. The men at that timewere a race of giants. One wonders how the world got through that timeat all. Six hundred millions of treasure spent by Britain alone! Howmany millions of lives lost none may guess. What wonder if there werehell-fire clubs and all kinds of monstrosities. Would any of the presentgeneration have attended the fete of the goddess of reason, if they hadlived at that time, I wonder? Of course they wouldn't.

  Charles went alone to the poultry-yard; but no one was there except thehead keeper, who was administering medicine to a cock, whose appearancewas indictable--that is to say, if the laws against cock-fighting wereenforced. Lady Ascot had gone in; so Charles went in too, and wentupstairs to his aunt's room.

  One of the old lady's last fancies was sitting in the dark, or in agloom so profound as to approach to darkness. So Charles, passing out ofa light corridor, and shutting the door behind him, found himself unableto see his hand before him. Confident, however, of his knowledge oflocalities, he advanced with such success that he immediately fellcrashing headlong over an ottoman; and in his descent, imagining that hewas falling into a pit or gulf of unknown depth, uttered a wild cry ofalarm. Whereupon the voice of Lady Ascot from close by answered, "Comein," as if she thought she heard somebody knock.

  "Come up, would be more appropriate, aunt," said Charles. "Why do yousit in the dark? I've killed myself, I believe."

  "Is that you, Charles?" said she. "What brings you over? My dear, I amdelighted. Open a bit of the window, Charles, and let me see you."

  Charles did as he was desired; and, as the strong light from withoutfell upon him, the old lady gave a deep sigh.

  "Ah, dear, so like poor dear Petre about the eyes. There never was ahandsome Ravenshoe since him, and there never will be another. You werequite tolerable as a boy, my dear; but you've got very coarse, verycoarse and plain indeed. Poor Petre!"

  "You're more unlucky in the light than you were in the darkness,Charles," said a brisk, clear, well-modulated voice from behind the oldlady. "Grandma seems in one of her knock-me-down moods to-day. She hadjust told me that I was an insignificant chit, when you made yourgraceful and noiseless entrance, and saved me anything further."

  If Adelaide had been looking at Charles when she spoke, instead of ather work, she would have seen the start which he gave when he heard hervoice. As it was, she saw nothing of it; and Charles, instantlyrecovering himself, said in the most nonchalant voice possible:

  "Hallo, are you here? How do you contrive to work in the dark?"

  "It is not dark to any one with eyes," was the curt reply. "I can see toread."

  Here Lady Ascot said that, if she had called Adelaide a chit, it wasbecause she had set up her opinion against that of such a man as Dr.Going; that Adelaide was a good and dutiful girl to her; that she was avery old woman, and perhaps shouldn't live to see the finish of nextyear; and that her opinion still was that Charles was very plain andcoarse, and she was sorry she couldn't alter it.

  Adelaide came rapidly up and kissed her, and then went and stood in thelight beside Charles.

  She had grown into a superb blonde beauty. From her rich brown crepehair to her exquisite little foot, she was a model of grace. The nosewas delicately aquiline, and the mouth receded slightly, while the chinwas as slightly prominent; the eyes were brilliant, and wereconcentrated on their object in a moment; and the eyebrows surmountedthem in a delicately but distinctly marked curve. A beauty she was, suchas one seldom sees; and Charles, looking on her, felt that he loved hermore madly than ever, and that he would die sooner than let her know it.

  "Well, Charles," she said, "you don't seem overjoyed to see me."

  "A man can't look joyous with broken shins, my dear Adelaide. Aunt, I'vegot some bad news for you. I am in trouble."

  "Oh dear," said the old lady, "and what is the matter now? Somethingabout a woman, I suppose. You Ravenshoes are always--"

  "No, no, aunt. Nothing of the kind. Adelaide, don't go, pray; you willlose such a capital laugh. I've got rusticated, Aunt."

  "That is very comical, I dare say," said Adelaide, in a low voice; "butI don't see the joke."

  "I thought you would have had a laugh at me, perhaps," said Charles; "itis rather a favourite amusement of yours."

  "What, in the name of goodness, makes you so disagreeable and crossto-day, Charles? You were never so before, when anything happened. I amsure I am very sorry for your misfortune, though I really don't know itsextent. Is it a very serious thing?"

  "Serious, very. I don't much like going home. Welter is in the samescrape; who is to tell her?"

  "This is the way," said Adelaide; "I'll show you how to manage her."

  All this was carried on in a low tone, and very rapidly. The old ladyhad just begun in a loud, querulous, scolding voice to Charles, whenAdelaide interrupted her with--

  "I say, grandma, Welter is rusticated too."

  Adelaide good-naturedly said this to lead the old lady's wrath fromCharles, and throw it partly on to her grandson; but however good herintentions, the execution of them was unsuccessful. The old lady fell toscolding Charles; accusing him of being the cause of the whole mishap,of leading Welter into every mischief, and stating her opinion that hewas an innocent and exemplary youth, with the fault only of being tooeasily led away. Charles escaped as soon as he could, and was followedby Adelaide.

  "This is not true, is it?" she said. "It is not your fault?"

  "My fault, partly, of course. But Welter would have been sent downbefore, if it hadn't been for me. He got me into a scrape this time. Hemustn't go back there. You mustn't let him go back."

  "I let him go back, forsooth! What on earth can I have to do with hislordship's movements?" she said, bitterly, "Do you know who you aretalking to?--a beggarly orphan."

  "Hush! don't talk like that, Adelaide. Your power in this house is verygreat. The power of the only sound head in the house. You could stopanything you like from happening."

  They had come together at a conservatory door; and she put her backagainst it,
and held up her hand to bespeak his attention moreparticularly.

  "I wish it was true, Charles; but it isn't. No one has any power overLord Ascot. Is Welter much in debt?"

  "I should say, a great deal," was Charles's reply. "I think I ought totell you. You may help him to break it to them."

  "Ay, he always comes to me for that sort of thing. Always did from achild. I'll tell you what, Charles, there's trouble coming or come onthis house. Lord Ascot came home from Chester looking like death; theysay he lost fearfully both there and at Newmarket. He came home quitelate, and went up to grandma; and there was a dreadful scene. She hasn'tbeen herself since. Another blow like it will kill her. I suspect mylord's bare existence depends on this colt winning the Derby. Come andsee it gallop," she added, suddenly throwing her flashing eyes upon his,and speaking with an animation and rapidity very different from thecold stern voice in which she had been telling the family troubles."Come, and let us have some oxygen. I have not spoken to a man for amonth. I have been leading a life like a nun's; no, worse than anynun's; for I have been bothered and humiliated by--ah! such wretchedtrivialities. Go and order horses. I will join you directly."

  So she dashed away and left him, and he hurried to the yard. Scarcelywere the horses ready when she was back again, with the same stem, coldexpression on her face, now more marked, perhaps, from the effect of themasculine habit she wore. She was a consummate horsewoman, and rode thefurious black Irish mare, which was brought out for her, with ease andself-possession, seeming to enjoy the rearing and plunging of thesour-tempered brute far more than Charles, her companion, did, who wouldrather have seen her on a quieter horse.

  A sweeping gallop under the noble old trees, through a deep valley, andpast a herd of deer, which scudded away through the thick-strewn leaves,brought them to the great stables, a large building at the edge of thepark, close to the downs. Twenty or thirty long-legged, elegant,nonchalant-looking animals, covered to the tips of their ears withcloths, and ridden each by a queer-looking brown-faced lad, were in theact of returning from their afternoon exercise. These Adelaide's mare,"Molly Asthore," charged and dispersed like a flock of sheep; and then,Adelaide pointing with her whip to the downs, hurried past the stablestowards a group they saw a little distance off.

  There were only four people--Lord Ascot, the stud-groom, and two lads.Adelaide was correctly informed; they were going to gallop the Voltigeurcolt (since called Haphazard), and the cloths were now coming off him.Lord Ascot and the stud-groom mounted their horses, and joined our pair,who were riding slowly along the measured mile the way the horse was tocome.

  Lord Ascot looked very pale and worn; he gave Charles a kindly greeting,and made a joke with Adelaide; but his hands fidgeted with his reins,and he kept turning back towards the horse they had left, wonderingimpatiently what was keeping the boy. At last they saw the beautifulbeast shake his head, give two or three playful plunges, and then comestriding rapidly towards them, over the short, springy turf.

  Then they turned, and rode full speed: soon they heard the mightyhollow-sounding hoofs behind, that came rapidly towards them, devouringspace. Then the colt rushed by them in his pride, with his chin on hischest, hard held, and his hind feet coming forward under his girth everystride, and casting the turf behind him in showers. Then Adelaide'shorse, after a few mad plunges, bolted, overtook the colt, and actuallyraced him for a few hundred yards; then the colt was pulled up on abreezy hill, and they all stood a little together talking andcongratulating one another on the beauty of the horse.

  Charles and Adelaide rode away together over the downs, intending tomake a little detour, and so lengthen their ride. They had had no chanceof conversation since they parted at the conservatory door, and theytook it up nearly where they had left it. Adelaide began, and, I maysay, went on, too, as she had most of the talking.

  "I should like to be a duchess; then I should be mistress of the onlything I am afraid of."

  "What is that?"

  "Poverty," said she; "that is my only terror, and that is my inevitablefate."

  "I should have thought, Adelaide, that you were too high spirited tocare for that, or anything."

  "Ah, you don't know; all my relations are poor. _I_ know what it is; _I_know what it would be for a beauty like me."

  "You will never be poor or friendless while Lady Ascot lives."

  "How long will that be? My home now depends very much on that horse; oh,if I were only a man, I should welcome poverty; it would force me toaction."

  Charles blushed. Not many days before, Marston and he had had a battleroyal, in which the former had said, that the only hope for Charles wasthat he should go two or three times without his dinner, and be made toearn it, and that as long as he had a "mag" to bless himself with, hewould always be a lazy, useless humbug; and now here was a young ladyuttering the same atrocious sentiments. He called attention to theprospect.

  Three hundred feet below them, Father Thames was winding along under thedowns and yellow woodlands, past chalk quarry and grey farm-house,blood-red beneath the setting sun; a soft, rich, autumnal haze was overeverything; the smoke from the distant village hung like a curtain ofpearl across the valley; and the long, straight, dark wood that crownedthe high grey wold, was bathed in a dim purple mist, on its darkestside; and to perfect the air of dreamy stillness, some distant bellssent their golden sound floating on the peaceful air. It was a quiet dayin the old age of the year; and its peace seemed to make itself felt onthese two wild young birds; for they were silent more than half the wayhome; and then Charles said, in a low voice--

  "Dear Adelaide, I hope you have chosen aright. The time will come whenyou will have to make a more important decision than any you have madeyet. At one time in a man's or woman's life, they say, there is a choicebetween good and evil. In God's name think before you make it."

  "Charles," she said, in a low and disturbed voice, "if a conjurer wereto offer to show you your face in a glass, as it would be ten yearshence, should you have courage to look?"

  "I suppose so; would not you!"

  "Oh, no, no, no! How do you know what horrid thing would look at you,and scare you to death? Ten years hence; where shall we be then?"