The Runaways: A New and Original Story. Gould Nat

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СКАЧАТЬ London and South-Western line, between Waterloo and Windsor. She had never heard of the place before, although she must have passed it on her way to Sunningdale for the Ascot week. Irene was given to making up her mind on the spur of the moment, and she did so in this case. She sat down at her desk, took her private cheque-book out, and sent the unknown and mysterious Felix Hoffman a cheque for five pounds.

      "Easily imposed upon, I suppose that is what the majority of people would say; at any rate, if it is an imposition it is an uncommon one. I have a good mind to go up to London and on to Feltham just to spy out the land. I will ask the Squire about it. He will not call me a fool, he is far too polite, but he'll probably think I am one."

      She sealed the letter and placed it in the postbag, locking it, and thus hiding her missive from prying eyes. Irene trusted her servants, but she understood human nature, and knew curiosity was well developed in the domestic maiden.

      Passing into the room she used as a studio, she took the painting of Random from the easel and placed it in a more favourable light.

      She criticised it, and was more than satisfied she had done the horse justice. The colouring was right, not hard, or harsh; the coat was not too glossy, yet it showed signs of health. The head was as perfect as it well could be. The left eye – the horse had his head turned three-parts round – was perhaps a shade too dull. She took up her palette, and with a couple of light touches altered it to her satisfaction.

      "I think he will like it, and not merely because I have done it, but because it has merit."

      She placed it in her portfolio, and adjusted the straps to suit her shoulders, so that it would not interfere with her riding. She rang the bell, and Mrs. Dixon, the housekeeper, appeared.

      "Has anyone called, Dixon?"

      "No; we need not look out for visitors in this weather."

      Dixon was a privileged person; she had been in command at Anselm Manor long before Warren Courtly's mother died, and Irene declined to have her removed, although her husband would have been pleased to see the back of her.

      Martha Dixon had a strong affection for Irene, although she would not abate a jot of her sternness or abrupt manner under any consideration. She also knew that Warren Courtly had been anything but a saint before he married, but that was none of her business.

      "I suppose this is a gentle hint that I ought not to be riding about this weather?" said Irene, smiling.

      Martha Dixon smiled back at her mistress and said, in a soft tone —

      "If you take care of yourself it will do you no harm, and I know it's precious lonely at the Manor. How did you find the Squire?"

      "He looks wonderfully well, but it was a bad night for him last night."

      "Then he remembers; he has forgotten nothing?"

      "And never will. He thinks Ulick will come back on the anniversary of the night he left home, and he has steeled himself to wait another year," said Irene.

      "That minx Janet is at the bottom of it all. A regular little flirt; I have no patience with 'em," said Martha.

      "Poor Janet, she has suffered for her wrongdoing, perhaps she is not to blame."

      "Mr. Ulick ought to have packed her off somewhere and remained at home," she said.

      "He was too much of a man to do that," said Irene. "Do you know, Dixon, I met Eli as I came here, and his faith in Ulick is as strong as ever?"

      "It does him credit, but he knows different in his heart."

      "You are mistaken; he believes Ulick is not guilty of wronging his daughter, I am sure of it."

      "I wish it would come true," said Martha.

      "I must go now," said Irene. "Please order my horse."

      This being done, Martha Dixon fixed the picture firmly on Irene's back, and fastened the straps.

      "The Squire will be pleased with that; it was Mr. Ulick's favourite horse."

      "I believe that is why he was glad when I chose Random," said Irene, as she walked to the door and quickly mounted Rupert.

      "If any letters come, shall I send them to Hazelwell?" asked Martha.

      "No," replied Irene; then added quickly, as she thought of the mysterious Felix Hoffman, "on second thoughts, perhaps you had better do so, but I may ride over again in a day or two. Mr. Courtly writes that he will not be back for a week."

      She rode quickly away, and Martha Dixon watched her until she was out of sight.

      "I have nothing to say against Mr. Warren," muttered Martha, as she shut the door, "but I wish Mr. Ulick had not got into a mess. She'd have been happier with him, although I say it, as shouldn't."

      CHAPTER V

      HONEYSUCKLE'S FOAL

      It was New Year's Eve, and Eli Todd was passing through a series of varying emotions. A stranger watching him might, with considerable excuse, have put him down as a lunatic. No sooner was he comfortably seated in his armchair by the cosy fire than he jumped up again suddenly, seized his hat, and dashed out into the wintry night.

      After a quarter of an hour's absence he returned, settled down again, commenced to doze and, waking with a start, rushed out of the house in the same erratic manner as before.

      The cause of these proceedings on the part of Eli was the mare, Honeysuckle. Never was a man placed in such a predicament, all on account of a mare, as Eli Todd on this occasion. It wanted four hours to midnight, and every moment the studmaster expected Honeysuckle's foal would come forth into the cold and heartless world an hour or two before the New Year. It was enough to drive him to despair. This would in all probability be Honeysuckle's last foal, but the Squire had already made up his mind that "what's last is best."

      Blissfully ignorant was the Squire of the throes of anxiety his trusty servant was enduring. It was his firm belief that Honeysuckle would not foal until the middle of January at the earliest, and Eli had not undeceived him.

      "I do wish you would keep still and not worry yourself," said Mrs. Marley. "It can do no good, the mare will get on quite as well without you; leave it to nature."

      "Much you know about it," grumbled Eli. "Leaving it to nature is all very well, but you ought to know that nature requires a little assistance at times."

      "You never take advice," she replied.

      "I do when it is good," was the effectual reply.

      Again Eli Todd opened the door, and a cold blast struck him in the face. A light was burning in Honeysuckle's box across the yard, and he plodded through the snow to it.

      His head man was inside sitting in a chair, looking drowsy, and nodding.

      Eli thought he had better go to bed, and said he would take his place.

      "I'll call you if I want you," he said, and the man thanked him as he went out.

      Eli sat in the chair watching the old mare and frequently looking at his watch. He had never wished time to fly so rapidly before.

      Honeysuckle was restless, and from time to time looked at him with her big, soft eyes СКАЧАТЬ