CHAPTER V
IN THE PARK
Close at hand, the trees in Hyde Park seemed to droop their branches, asif in sympathy with the gray aspect of the day, while afar, across thegreen, the sylvan guardians of the place had either receded altogetherin the gray haze or stood forth like shadowy ghosts. In the foreground,not far from the main entrance, a number of sheep and their youngnibbled contentedly the wet and delectable grass, and as some brightgown paused or whisked past, the juxtaposition of fine raiment and younglamb suggested soft, shifting Bouchers or other dainty French pastoralsin paint. The air had a tang; the dampness enhanced the perfumes, madethem fuller and sweeter, and a joyous sort of melancholy seemed to holda springtime world in its grasp.
Into this scene of rural tranquillity rode briskly about the middle ofthe morning Jocelyn Wray and others. The glow on the girl's cheeksharmonized with the redness of her lips; the sparkling blue eyes mockedat all neutral hues; her gown and an odd ribbon or two waved, as itwere, light defiance to motionless things--still leaves and branches,flowers and buds, drowsy and sleeping. Her mount was deep black, withfine arching neck and spirited head; on either side of the head, beneathears sensitive, delicately pointed, had been fastened a rose, badge offavor from a bunch nestling at the white throat of the young girl. Sherode with a grace and rhythmical ease suggestive of large experience inthe pastime; the slender, supple figure swayed as if welcoming gladlythe swing and the quick rush of air. Sometimes at her side, again justbehind, galloped the horse bearing John Steele, and, as they went at afair pace, preceded and followed by others of a gay party, the eyes ofmany passers-by turned to regard them.
"By Jove, they're stunning! It isn't often you see a man put up likethat."
"Or a girl more the picture of health!"
"And beauty!"
Unconscious of these and other comments from the usual curiouscontingent of idlers filling the benches or strolling along the paths,the girl now set a yet swifter gait, glancing quickly over her shoulderat her companion: "Do you like a hard gallop? Shall we let them out?"
His brightening gaze answered; they touched their horses and for somedistance raced madly on, passed those in front and left them far behind.Now Steele's eyes rested on the playing muscles of her superb horse,then lifted to the lithe form of Jocelyn Wray, the straight shoulders, abit of a tress, disordered, floating rebelliously to the wind.
As abruptly as she had pressed her horse to that inspiring speed, shedrew him in to a walk. "Wasn't that worth coming to the park for?" shesaid gaily.
He looked at her, at the flowers she readjusted, at the lips,half-parted to her quick breath.
"More than worth it."
"You see what you missed in the past," she observed in a tone slightlymocking.
"You were not here to suggest it," he returned quietly, with gaze onlyfor blue eyes.
She suffered them to linger. "I suppose I should feel nattered that asuggestion from little me--"
"A suggestion from little you would, I fancy, go a long ways with manypeople." A spark shone now in the man's steady look; the girl seemed notafraid of it.
"I am fortunate," she laughed. "A compliment from Mr. John Steele!"
"Why not say--the truth?" he observed.
She stroked her horse's glossy neck and smiled furtively at the soft,velvet surface. "The truth?" she replied. "What is it? Where shall wefind it? Isn't it something the old philosophers were always searchingfor? Plato, and--some of the others we were taught of in school."
He started as if to speak, but his answer remained unuttered; the man'slips closed tighter; a moment he watched the small gloved hand, then hisgaze turned to the gray sky.
"So you see, I call compliments, compliments," she ended lightly.
He offered no comment; the horses moved on; suddenly she looked at him.One of those odd changes she had once or twice noticed before had comeover John Steele; his face appeared too grave, too reserved; she mightalmost fancy a stormy play of emotion behind that mask of immobility.The girl's long lashes lowered; a slightly puzzled expression shone fromher eyes. It may be she had but the natural curiosity of her sex, thather interest was compelled, because, although she had studied this manfrom various standpoints, his personality, strong, direct in some ways,she seemed unable to fathom. The golden head tilted; she allowed animpression of his profile to grow upon her.
"Do you know," she laughingly remarked, "you are not very interesting?"
He started. "Interesting!"
"A penny for your thoughts!" ironically.
"They're not worth it."
"No?"
He bent a little nearer; she swept back the disordered lock; an instantthe man seemed to lose his self-possession. "Ah," he began, as if thewords forced themselves from his lips, "if only I might--"
What he had been on the point of saying was never finished; the girl'squick glance, sweeping an instant ahead, had lingered on some oneapproaching from the opposite direction, and catching sight of him, shehad just missed noting that swift alteration in John Steele's tones, thebrief abandonment of studied control, a flare of irresistible feeling.
"Isn't that Lord Ronsdale?" asked the girl, continuing to gaze beforeher.
A black look replaced the sudden flame in Steele's gaze; the handholding the reins closed on them tightly.
"Rather early for him, I fancy," she said, regarding the slim figure ofthe approaching rider. "With his devotion to clubs and late hours, youknow! Do you, Mr. Steele, happen to belong to any of his clubs?"
"No." He spoke in a low voice, almost harshly.
Her brow lifted; his face was turned from her. Had he been mindful hemight have noted a touch of displeasure on the proud face, that sheregarded him as from a vague, indefinite distance.
"Lord Ronsdale is a very old friend of my uncle's," she observedseverely, "and--mine!"
Was it that she had divined a deep-seated prejudice or hostility towardthe nobleman hidden in John Steele's breast, that she took this occasionto let him know definitely that her friends were her friends? "Even whenI was only a child he was very nice to me," she went on.
He remained silent; she frowned, then turned to the nobleman with asmile. Lord Ronsdale found that her greeting left nothing to be desired;she who had been somewhat unmindful of him lately on a sudden seemedreally glad to see him. His slightly tired, aristocratic face lightened;the sunshine of Jocelyn Wray's eyes, the tonic of youth radiating fromher, were sufficient to alleviate, if not dispel, ennui or lassitude.
"So good of you!" she murmured conventionally, as Steele droppedslightly back among the others who had by this time drawn near. "Toarrive at such an unfashionable hour, I mean!"
His pleased but rather suspicious eyes studied her; he answered lightly;behind them now, he who had been riding with my lady could hear theirgay laughter. Lord Ronsdale was apparently telling her a whimsicalstory; he had traveled much, met many people, bizarre and otherwise, andcould be ironically witty when stimulated to the effort. John Steele didnot look at them; when the girl at a turn in the way allowed her glancea moment to sweep aside toward those following, she could see he wasriding with head slightly down bent.
"Good-looking beggar, isn't he," observed the nobleman suddenly, hisgaze sharpened on her.
"Who?" asked the girl.
"That chap, Steele," he answered insinuatingly.
"Is he?" Her voice was flute-like. "What is that noise?" abruptly.
"Noise?" Lord Ronsdale listened. "That's music, or supposed to be!Unless I am mistaken, _The Campbells are Coming_," he drawled.
"The Campbells? Oh, I understand! Let us wait!"
They drew in their horses; the black one became restive, eyed withobvious disapproval a gaily bedecked body of men swinging smartly alongtoward them. At their head marched pipers, blowing lustily; behindstrode doughty clansmen, heads up, as became those carrying memories ofbattles won. They approached after the manner of veterans who felt thatthey deserved tributes of admiration from beholders: that in
the pipingtimes of peace they were bound to be conquerors still.
Louder shrieked the wild concords; bare legs flashed nearer; brightcolors flaunted with startling distinctness. And at the sight and sound,the girl's horse, unaccustomed to the pomp and pride of martial display,began to plunge and rear. She spoke sharply; tried to control it butfound she could not. Lord Ronsdale saw her predicament but was powerlessto lend assistance, being at the moment engaged in a vigorous effort toprevent his own horse from bolting.
The bagpipes came directly opposite; the black horse reared viciously;for the moment it seemed that Jocelyn would either be thrown or that theaffrighted animal would fall over on her, when a man sprang forward anda hand reached up. He stood almost beneath the horse; as it came down ahoof struck his shoulder a glancing blow, grazed hard his arm, tearingthe cloth. But before the animal could continue his rebellious tactics ahand like iron had reached for, grasped the bridle; those who watchedcould realize a great strength in the restraining fingers, the unusualpower of Steele's muscles. The black horse, trembling, soon stood still;the bagpipes passed on, and Steele looked up at the girl.
"If you care to dismount--"
"Thank you," she said. "I'm not afraid. Especially," she added lightly,"with you at the bridle!"
"Few riders could have kept their seats so well," he answered, withill-concealed admiration.
"I have always been accustomed to horses. In Australia we ride a greatdeal."
"For the instant," his face slightly paler, "I thought something wouldhappen."
"It might have," she returned, a light in her eyes, "but for a timelyhand. My horse apparently does not appreciate Scotch airs."
"Ugly brute!" Lord Ronsdale, a dissatisfied expression on his handsomecountenance, approached. "A little of the whip--" the words werearrested; the nobleman stared at John Steele, or rather at the bare armwhich the torn sleeve revealed well above the elbow.
The white, uplifted arm suddenly dropped; Steele drew the cloth quicklyabout it, but not before his eyes had met those of Lord Ronsdale andcaught the amazement, incredulity, sudden terror--was it terror?--intheir depths.
"Told you not to trust him, Jocelyn!" Sir Charles' loud, hearty voice atthe same moment interrupted. "There was a look about him I didn't likefrom the beginning."
"Perhaps he needs only a little toning down to be fit," put in CaptainForsythe, as he and the others drew near. "A few seasons with thehounds, or--"
"Chasing some poor little fox!" said the girl with light scorn.
"One might be doing something worse!"
"One might!" Her accents were dubious.
"You don't believe in the chase, or the hunt? Allow me to differ; peoplealways must hunt _something_, don't you know; primeval instinct! Used tohunt one another," he laughed. "Sometimes do now. Fox is only asubstitute for the joys of the man-hunt; sort of sop to Cerberus, as itwere. Eh, Ronsdale?"
But the nobleman did not answer; his face looked drawn and gray; withone hand he seemed almost clinging to his saddle. John Steele's back wasturned; he was bending over the girth of his saddle and his featurescould not be seen, but the hand, so firm and assured a moment before,seemed a little uncertain as it made pretext to readjust a fastening orbuckle.
"Why, man, you look ill!" Captain Forsythe, turning to Lord Ronsdale,exclaimed suddenly.
"It's--nothing--much--" With vacant expression the nobleman regarded thespeaker; then lifted his hand and pressed it an instant to his breast."Heart," he murmured mechanically. "Beastly bad heart, you know, andsometimes a little thing--slight shock--Miss Wray's danger--"
"Take some of this!" The captain, with solicitude, pressed a flask onhim; the nobleman drank deeply. "There; that'll pick you up."
"Beastly foolish!" A color sprang to Lord Ronsdale's face; he heldhimself more erect.
"Not at all!" Sir Charles interposed. "A man can't help a bad liver or abad heart. One of those inscrutable visitations of Providence! But shallwe go on? You're sure you're quite yourself?"
"Quite!" The nobleman's tone was even harder and more metallic thanusual; his thin lips compressed to a tight line; his eyes that lookedout to a great distance were bright and glistening.
"Are you ready, Mr. Steele?" Jocelyn Wray waited a moment as the othersstarted, looked down at that gentleman. Her voice was gracious; its softaccents seemed to say: "You may ride with me; it is your reward!"
For one restored so quickly to favor, with a felicitous prospect of gaywords and bright glances, John Steele seemed singularly dull andapathetic. He exhibited no haste in the task he was engaged in;straightened slowly and mounted with leisure. Once again in the saddle,and on their way, it is true he appeared to listen to the girl; but hisresponses were vague, lacking both in vivacity and humor. It wasimpossible she should not notice this want of attention; she bit herlips once; then she laughed.
"Do you know, Mr. Steele, if I were vain I should feel hurt."
"Hurt?" he repeated.
"You haven't heard what I have been saying." Her eyes challenged his.
"Haven't I?"
"Deny it."
He did not; again she looked at him merrily.
"Of course, I can't afford to be harsh with my rescuer. Perhaps"--in thesame tone--"you really did save my life! Have you ever really saved anyone--any one else, shall I say?--you who are so strong?"
A spasm as of pain passed over his face; his look, however, was not forher; and the girl's eyes, too, had now become suddenly set afar. Was shethinking of another scene, some one her own words conjured to mind? Hermood seemed to gain in seriousness; she also became very quiet; and soalmost in silence they went on to the entrance, down the street, to herhome.
"_Au revoir_, and thank you!" she said there, regaining her accustomedlightness.
"Good-by! At least for the present," he added. "I am leaving London,"abruptly.
"Leaving?" She regarded him in surprise. "To be gone long?"
"It is difficult to say. Perhaps."
"But--you must have decided suddenly?"
"Yes."
"While we have been riding home?" Again he answered affirmatively; theblue eyes looked at him long. "Is it--is it serious?"
"A little."
"Men make so much of business, nowadays," she observed, "it--it alwaysseems serious, I suppose. We--we are moving into the country in a fewweeks. Shall I--shall we, see you before then?"
"To my regret, I am afraid not."
"And after"--in a voice matter-of-fact--"I think aunt has put you downfor July; a house party; I don't recall the exact dates. You will come?"
"Shall we say, circumstances permitting--" "Certainly," a littlestiffly, "circumstances permitting." She gave him her hand. "_Aurevoir!_ Or good-by, if you prefer it." He held the little glovedfingers; let them drop. There was a suggestion of hopelessness in themovement that fitted oddly his inherent vigor and self-poise; shestarted to draw away; an ineffable something held her.
"Good luck in your business!" she found herself saying, half-gaily,half-ironically.
He answered, hoarsely, something--what?--rode off. With color flaminghigh, the girl looked after him until Lord Ronsdale's horse, clatteringnear, caused her to turn quickly.
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