CHAPTER VII
IMPRESSIONS
Five o'clock came, and with it Leicester Dodson.
It had been very warm out all day; it was warm still, but Mr. Dodson did not look at all distressed, and his velvet lounging jacket hung loosely and comfortably upon his strong, muscular frame.
"Have you courage enough to face the weather?" he said, putting his head through the window frame, "or do you give in?"
"No," said Violet, laughing; "on the contrary, I feel quite brave. I will not keep you long. Will you take a seat while I get my hat?"
He entered, sauntered to a chair, and dropped into it, prepared to wait the three-quarters of an hour which ladies usually require for donning hat and cape.
But Violet was quick and impulsive in all her actions, and before ten minutes had passed he heard her voice on the stairs again, speaking to a servant.
Before she entered the room, however, the door opened, and Captain Murpoint came in.
"Oh, here you are, Mr. Dodson," he said. "Can you tell me at what time the post goes out?"
"Six o'clock," said Leicester.
"So soon?" returned the captain. "I am afraid I shall be compelled to deprive myself of the pleasure of accompanying you. I have some rather important letters to write, and shall barely have time to get through them."
"I am sorry for that," said Leicester Dodson, quietly telling a polite falsehood, for he was in reality rather glad than otherwise, and looked forward with no little satisfaction to a tête-à-tête with Violet.
"So am I," said the captain, and, as he spoke, he looked round about the room, as if searching for something.
"Lost anything?" asked the other, in his slow, indolent way.
"Y – es," said Captain Murpoint, "a letter. I have dropped it from my pocket, and I fancied I should see it in this room."
At that moment the door opened and Violet entered.
The captain ceased his hunt immediately, and, murmuring softly, "It's of no consequence," turned to Violet and told her that he should be compelled to remain at home.
"I am sorry," said Violet, echoing Leicester's words, and with as little truth.
And she passed out onto the lawn.
"I don't know whether James has harnessed the ponies properly," she said, doubtfully, as the groom appeared, leading up the pretty pair tandem fashion.
"No, he hasn't," said Leicester, after examining them.
And he quietly explained to the man how the operation should be performed.
Then he handed Violet into the little toy phaeton, and took the reins.
At first the ponies, unused to their novel positions and quite fresh after two days' rest, showed signs of rebellion, and started first to one side, then the other, and at last the leader ventured to attempt the feat of walking on his hind legs.
But Mr. Leicester's iron hand drew him to earth again, and, with a touch of the long whip, hinted to him that a very different driver than Miss Violet sat behind him.
After a few minutes they settled down more quietly, and, as the feathery phaeton was rattled down the well-kept road to the village, Violet's face flushed and her eyes sparkled with pleasure.
"How delightful!" she exclaimed; "and how easy it looks!"
"Come and try," said Mr. Leicester, and he pulled the ponies up until he had changed seats with her.
Then Violet found that tandem-driving was one of those feats which look easier to perform than they really are. Her hold on the reins was not tight enough; the artful little creatures knew her gentle touch, and the leader commenced his old trick, and, in spite of all Violet's skill, insisted upon turning round, as if he meant to enter the carriage and take a ride himself.
Mr. Leicester smiled, and Violet pouted.
"Hold the reins tighter," he said, "and give Master Dot – or Spot? which is it? – a clean, little cut on the left side."
She did so, and Master Dot immediately spun round to the right.
Then Mr. Leicester showed her how to keep him straight by whipping him on the right, and Violet managed to drive him straight for some little distance until they came to a sharp corner.
"Now, take care," said Mr. Leicester; but his warning came too late.
Dot cut the corner rather close, Spot, of course, cut it closer, and the phaeton would have been over, and its contents spilled like eggs, had not Mr. Dodson's hand closed on the small ones of Violet, and tugged the leader round.
For the second time Violet learned how hard and firm that hand was, and involuntarily she uttered a little, sharp cry of pain.
"I am so sorry!" said Leicester, and his voice, naturally so cold and grave, grew wonderfully gentle and anxious. "I did not mean to hurt you."
"No, no; it's nothing," Violet said, coloring with shame at her weakness. "I am really very grateful. You did not hurt me. May I keep the reins a little longer? I don't deserve to after such a silly mistake."
"Yes," he said, "there is a bit of straight road now."
He seemed so genuinely kind that Violet could not refrain from thanking him again.
"You are very good-natured, Mr. Dodson," she said. "I might have thought you proud if I had judged by first impressions."
"Why?" he asked.
"Why?" she repeated. "Are you sure that I shall not offend you?"
"Quite," he said, with a short laugh. "Pray, go on."
"Well, then, if you remember how abruptly you turned away from me that morning when you so foolishly and recklessly, but so heroically, risked your life for my paltry sunshade? You actually refused to shake hands," and she laughed, "and turned away with the cut direct."
He laughed, and looked up at her with a half-amused smile.
"I did, did I?" he said. "Come, I will be candid. I had judged you, not by first impressions, but by hearsay. The unkind things said of one always get repeated – one's friends always see to that. And I have heard some of the mighty civil things your aunt, and perhaps you had said of tallow chandlers in general, and ourselves and the Cedars in particular."
Violet crimsoned, and whipped Dot almost angrily for very shame.
"And," he exclaimed, laughing again, "I thought when you told me your name, 'Well, she shan't be compelled to know me because I picked up her sunshade,' and so I took myself off with all humility."
"Some one's darling sin is the pride that apes humility," answered Violet, with an arch smile.
"Exactly," said Mr. Leicester, "I did not choose that the acquaintanceship should be one of my commencing. If you chose to look down with contempt upon tallow melters – "
Violet stopped him, with a look almost of pain.
"You are unjust," she said, in a low voice. "And you forget that I never thought less of you for what you were. You are not a tallow melter – and – and – oh, I do not know what to say, save that I am not guilty of the meanness you lay to my charge."
"Forgive me," he said, gently and earnestly. "I was only half serious. I did not think so really. But," he added, laughing, "it is a fact that we made our money from tallow, and there's no getting over it. Ah! here is Captain Murpoint," he broke off, as the captain's tall and powerful figure stepped out on to the path beside the drive.
So sudden was his appearance, seeming to grow out of her thoughts, as it were, that Violet, who was by no means a nervous or sentimental young lady, half started, and certainly paled.
In starting, she tugged the reins.
Dot and Spot took the jerk as an excuse for a little freshness, and started off, with their heads down viciously.
Leicester, who had noticed her start, and the sudden pallor, caught hold of her hand, and soon pulled the sprightly ponies into a trot again.
But Violet's hands and his had met once more, and the contact had produced a strange thrill, which was as wonderful as that feeling which they had been speaking of, but it was certainly not one of antipathy.
Leicester stepped out, handed Violet to the steps; then, after patting the ponies, held out his hand.
"Will you not come in?" said Violet.
"No, thank you. It is nearly dinner time. I hope you are not tired."
"No," said Violet, giving him her hand, which he kept while she finished speaking. "No, and I am very much obliged. Good-by."
"Good-by," he said, and perhaps unconsciously he pressed her little hand as he released it.
Then he turned, and Violet, watching him, saw him stand for a moment to exchange a good-day with Captain Murpoint, then stride on.
It was nearly dinner time, as he had said, and he sauntered up to his room, and put himself into the hands of his valet with his usual indolence.
Then he came down to dinner, and ate it with rather more than his usual gravity, talking little, save to his mother, to whom he was always the perfection of knightly courtesy.
Once only he seemed cold, and that was when she said, "Leicester, we have been talking of returning the Mildmays' dinner party. What day would you like me to ask them?" for she always consulted her darling son on every matter, important or trifling.
"I do not care," he said; "I am going to town to-morrow, and I may not return for a week or two. You might ask them next week."
"Going to town," said Mrs. Dodson, ruefully. "Why my dear Leicester, you said you would stay a month with us!"
"I must go to-morrow, mother," he said, and she knew that it was useless to contend against the fiat when pronounced in that calm, cold tone.
After dinner he strolled out on to the cliffs and lit a cigar.
"Yes," he muttered, looking at the sea, lying like a great opal in the low sunset. "I will go to town; I am better there out of mischief. She is very pretty – beautiful, I think, if any woman's face did deserve the word; and there is something about her – is it her voice, or her look, or that swift turn of the head? – which moves me as never voice or look or gesture of woman moved me yet. She is a beautiful, bewitching snare, and, as I have no desire to be snared, as I am too selfish, too cynical, too philosophical to make any woman happy, I will fly. Yes, I will go to town before the danger grows greater." And, as to resolve and perform were nearly one with Mr. Leicester Dodson, to town he went, and Violet saw his dogcart rattling down to Burfield from her bedroom window.
He went to town, but, as we have seen, he could not be happy, contented, or even satisfied, and before the fortnight had passed, he was on his way back to Penruddie, with Bertie Fairfax accompanying him.
Fate stands at the crossroads of life and beckons with inexorable finger, and man, though he strive against the stern command and struggles to avoid that particular path up which the great fate beckons him, must yield at last and walk on to his happiness or his doom.
Fate beckons you, Leicester Dodson, and, though you proudly set your face against its decree, you cannot avoid the inevitable.
CHAPTER VIII
SYMPATHY OR ANTIPATHY?
The captain, as he opened his bedroom window, saw Mr. Leicester Dodson's departure, and was rather surprised.
Captain Murpoint was too shrewd an observer of human nature not to have noticed Mr. Leicester's evident partiality for Miss Violet's society, and, although it would seem to be antagonistic to the captain's plans that the young man should be hanging about the house, yet, in reality, he was quite willing that Violet's attention should be absorbed by handsome Mr. Leicester, or any one else, so that it was drawn for the present from Captain Murpoint.
He could not understand Mr. Leicester's sudden flight, and Mr. Starling, when interrogated, could not very much enlighten him.
Jem or "Starling," as the captain now called him, entered his master's bedroom with the water for the bath, and found the captain still in bed, but with his head resting on one strong hand, and his face turned dreamily to the window.
Starling grunted his morning salutation, and the captain nodded.
"Go to the window," he said, "and tell me if that young Dodson's dogcart has come back; if I have calculated correctly, it has just had about time enough to get to the station and back."
"Here it comes, captain."
"Without Mr. Leicester?"
"Without Mr. Leicester," replied Starling.
"Then he has gone to town," said the captain, springing out of bed and stretching himself thoughtfully. "Gone to town! What the deuce has he gone to town for?"
"That's what everybody wants to know," said Jem, from the next room, where he was spreading out the towels and pouring the water into the bath.
"Did you make friends with the people in the servants' hall at the Cedars?" asked the captain.
"I did, captain, obedient to your commands," said Jem with a wink. "And a very nice, genteel lot o' people they are, though I prefer the hall here, if there's any choice. Oh, yes, I walked up last night, permiscous like, and when they knew as I was your man they made me welcome, drawed me some of the best October and would 'a' opened a bottle of Madery, but I wouldn't hear on it – I allus was so modest. I had a cut of duck and a helpin' o' some sort o' cream with a long, furrin name – "
"Tush! I don't want to know what you had to eat and drink," interrupted the captain. "What did you hear?"
"Not much," he said, laying out the captain's ready-brushed morning suit. "I heard that Mr. Leicester was going up to London this morning, quite sudden like – and he ain't one of your impulse gents, neither. His man didn't know what was up, and depended to stop here for another month at the least. There wasn't anything awkward between the old people and the young 'un, neither, for the butler – which is a more high and mighty swell, in a bigger shirt front, than our chap – he heard Mr. Dodson beg o' Mr. Leicester to stop. But, no, he said he'd go, and gone he has, sure enough."
"And now you can go," said the captain. "Stay! did you find that piece of paper which I told you to look for in the drawing room?"
"No, captain, and I looked everywhere."
"Idiot!" said the captain, between his teeth, "let that be a warning to you never to put your clumsy paw to paper again. How do I know who may have picked that up, with its cursed, telltale sentence?"
"I beg pardon," said Jem, humbly, "but I thought I was doing right. This 'ere inspector was a man from London, and he might have spotted either of us – "
"Enough," said the captain, with a displeased frown.
"You were right to be cautious, and to give me warning, but you should have taken a better way in which to do it. Your grinning face and that stupid business of the letter were enough to arouse the suspicions of a child. Has the inspector gone?"
"Yes, captain," said Jem, "went last night. Found everythink satisfactory; the force in fine condition, and the reserve able and active. He! he!"
"What are you laughing at?" said the captain.
"There's only one policeman – bar the coastguard, which don't count – in the place," grinned Jem.
"Only one policeman – and the coastguard!" mused the captain.
Then he muttered, "All the better," and, dismissing his faithful servant, he prepared for his bath.
For a week Violet felt very dull, and the captain, who watched her closely behind his well-assumed simplicity and carelessness, found that all his amusing stories, songs and little pieces of acting failed to amuse her, and he was not surprised to hear Mrs. Mildmay say at breakfast one morning:
"My dear Violet, you want change of scene. You look tired, my child. If we can persuade Captain Murpoint to accompany us, we will go up to town for a week or two."
The captain bowed.
"I must be taking my flight soon, my dear madam. I have made a long stay."
Violet looked up with one of her frank, open glances.
"You will not go yet!" she said. "You will make this your home, Captain Murpoint, as you would have done if my father were master here."
The captain's eyes moistened, and his voice trembled with emotion as he bowed over to her in his courtly way.
"My dear Miss Mildmay," he said, in a low voice, "I express my gratitude for your generous, warm-hearted welcome, and, though I cannot consent to make the Park my home, I will stay a little longer, for I must confess that I am loath to go."
"Stay as long as you can – forever!" said Violet, in her impulsive way. "You are my father's best friend, and mine, therefore."
"Do not let me be a drag on any of your plans," said the captain, earnestly. "I am an old campaigner, and can make myself comfortable anywhere. This is a charming place, but if Mrs. Mildmay would like a change, pray, pray do not let me be a hindrance."
"There is plenty of room over and over again for you in Park Place," said Violet, smiling. "So you will be no hindrance, Captain Murpoint. But I do not know that auntie really means to go to town – do you, auntie?"
"Well, my dear – " said Mrs. Mildmay, with hesitating indecision.
"At least," laughed Violet, "you will wait a week to think over it. You and Captain Murpoint can sit in council while I take a drive. I am going to try Dot and Spot in tandem," and she ran from the room.
"Be careful, my dear!" Mrs. Mildmay called after her, and the girl's light laugh rang back in loving mockery.
But something occurred within the next half hour which put the projected journey to London on the shelf for a while.
As Dot and Spot were trotting down the steep road, in very high spirits and showing signs of rebellion, Violet saw two gentlemen walking slowly up the hill.
Her attention was so much absorbed by the ponies that she did not bestow more than a glance upon them at first, and it was not until she had got considerably nearer to them that she recognized in one Mr. Leicester Dodson.
Impulsive, as usual, she on the instant determined to change places with that gentleman in the matter of pride, and show him that she also could be inconsistent, therefore, when she came on a level with the gentlemen, she merely responded to the uplifting of Mr. Leicester's deerstalker by a cool, little nod, and whipped up Dot into a sharper trot.
Leicester, who had pulled up expecting a little parley, colored slightly, and to Bertie Fairfax's enthusiastic exclamation, "I say, Les, what a beautiful creature," replied, rather coldly:
"Do you think so? That is Miss Violet Mildmay."
Bertie glanced up at Leicester's face, and whistled, comically.
"By Jove! she gave you the cut direct, Les."
"I am sure, I don't know," said Mr. Leicester, with the most provoking gravity. "She did, most likely, if you say so, Bertie – you, who are so well versed in woman's wiles and smiles."
"Hem!" laughed Bertie, "you haven't made much impression in that quarter, Les, and – Hello!" he broke off, "those blessed ponies have started round, and here they come, neck or nothing! By Heaven! they'll be over that wall, trap and all, if she don't pull them in directly!"
Leicester turned round sharply, and, without a word, set off running across the road.
"Keep tight hold of the reins!" he cried, in his deep, musical voice, as the two ponies came dashing along, with their wicked, little heads thrown back and the tiny, toy phaeton swinging and rocking behind them. "Keep a tight hand on the reins, and don't be frightened," he added, as he glanced at Violet's face, which was pale, but set fast and firm with determination and courage.
She nodded slightly to show him that she heard and would obey, and he saw the tiny, little hands close fast upon the reins.
The next instant he made a spring at the pony with such force that the little animal was nearly knocked over, and dragged him to a standstill.
Snap went one of the traces, and up went Master Spot, but a round smack on the head from Leicester's hand quieted him, and then Leicester turned, with a smile, to Violet.
"You haven't acquired the art yet," he said, nodding laughingly. "I am afraid you do not use the whip enough."
Violet bit her lip with vexation for a moment in silence, then burst into a merry laugh, which had not a particle of fear in it.
"Tiresome little beast!" she said, "he would turn round! I did whip him, indeed, I did! But he was so obstinate, and so – and so – I thought I would let him go!"
Mr. Leicester smiled incredulously, and Violet, understanding the smile, laughed again.
"Well, I really do believe I could have pulled him in if I had tried a little harder!"
"Then you will not forgive me for interfering," he said.
Violet's smile changed immediately, and her beautiful eyes grew grave.
"I am only jesting," she said, in a low voice. "I know how kind you have been, and what you saved me from," and she glanced at the low wall, significantly.
"You must not try tandem alone just yet," he said.
At that moment, which was rather an awkward one, Bertie Fairfax came up, and Leicester hastened to introduce him.
Violet bowed to the fair-haired Bertie and, after a glance of examination, felt that she liked him.
"Is it sympathy or antipathy?" murmured Leicester, who was near her.
Violet flushed slightly. "Neither," she retorted, in as low a voice.
"The trace is broken," said Bertie. "You cannot drive the little beggar any farther, Miss Mildmay."
"No," said Leicester, who seemed to have forgotten the ponies. "I will cut the connection, and divide the little rascals. You can then drive Master Spot home, and I can put Dot in my pocket."
Violet laughed.
"Really, it is a shame to give you so much trouble," she said. "Can you not tie him to a post? I can send Tom down for him!"
"It is no trouble," said Leicester politely. "And, what is more, we were coming up to the Park. My mother and father have driven over to pay you a visit; my friend and I were to accompany them, but we preferred walking, and arranged to meet them."
"I hope I shall get home before they have gone," said Violet. "At least, you will let me take one of you up?"
But they both declined, and Violet started, leaving Leicester and Bertie to follow with the rebellious Dot.
"Well," said Leicester, with his half cynical smile, as Bertie Fairfax looked after the disappearing phaeton. "I know you are dying to pronounce your opinion."
"I like her," said Bertie. "I think she's the most beautiful girl I've seen – bar one," he added, sotto voce, "and I like the candid, fearless look of her face. Those violet, velvet eyes, too."
"Nonsense, they're brown," said Leicester, but, although his voice was mocking, Bertie knew that his praises had pleased his friend.
"You evidently think as much of her yourself, mon ami," he said, significantly, "or you wouldn't drag that little beggar a mile and a half in a midsummer sun! Leicester's reformed! The bear is tamed!"
"Pshaw!" said Leicester. "Can't a man do a civil thing once in a way but all you young puppies must yelp at him?"
"Young!" retorted Bertie. "I like that, old Methuselah! Why, hang it, I'm older than you, if I haven't such a grim mug."
Leicester laughed.
"Then you've more years than sense, Bertie; so hold your tongue, and come on. I'd give a shilling for a bottle of Bass. If this little beggar were a hand smaller we'd tie his legs, sling him across your walking-stick, and carry him home in triumph like a dead rabbit."