by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER IX.--A TRYSTING-PLACE.
Rachel had a very restless fit on. She was a child full of impulses,with spirits wildly high one day and proportionately depressed the next;but the restlessness of her present condition did not resemble thecapricious and ever-changing moods which usually visited her. The uneasyspirit which prevented her taking kindly to her lessons, which took thecharm from her play-hours and the pleasure even from Kitty's society,had lasted now for months; it had its date from a certain lovelysummer's evening. Had Aunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine known more aboutwhat their little niece did on that occasion, they might have attributedher altered mood to an over-long ride and to some physical weakness.
But Rachel was wonderfully strong; her cheeks bloomed; her dark eyessparkled; and the old ladies were interested just now in some one whomthey considered far more important than Rachel. So the little girlneglected her lessons without getting into any very serious scrapes, andmore than once rode alone into the forest on Surefoot without beingreprimanded. Rachel would steal away from Kitty and from little Phil,and would imperiously order Robert to saddle her pony and to ride withher just a very little way into the forest; but then the groom was notonly allowed, but requested to turn off in another direction, and Rachelwould gallop as fast as possible past Rufus' Stone, and on as far asthat lovely glade where she had sat and gathered bluebells in thesummer. She always dismounted from Surefoot here, and standing with herback to an old oak tree, waited with intense expectancy. She never wentfurther than the oak tree; she never went down a narrow path which ledto a certain cottage clothed completely in green; but she waited, withher hands clasped and her eyes fixed eagerly on the distant vista offorest trees. Sometimes her eyes would sparkle, and she would clap herhands joyfully and run to meet a prim-looking old woman who came forwardthrough the shades to meet her. Sometimes she returned home withoutseeing anybody, and on these occasions she was apt to be morose--snappishto Kitty, rude to Mrs. Lovel and Phil, and, in short, disagreeable toevery one, except perhaps her gentle Aunt Katharine.
The old ladies would vaguely wonder what ailed the child, and MissGriselda would hope she was not going to be famous for the Lovel temper;but as their minds were very full of other things they did not reallyinvestigate matters.
One frosty day about the middle of November, when Phil and his motherhad been quite four months at Avonsyde, Rachel started off earlier thanusual for one of her long rides. The forest was full of a wonderfulmystical sort of beauty at all times and seasons, and now, with thehoar-frost sparkling on the grass, with the sun shining brightly, andwith many of the autumn tints still lingering on the trees, it seemedalmost as delightful a place to Rachel as when clothed in its fullsummer glory. The little brown-coated winter birds chirped cozily amongthe branches of the trees, and hundreds of squirrels in a wealth ofwinter furs bounded from bough to bough. Rachel as usual dismissed herfaithful attendant, Robert, and galloping to her accustomedtrysting-place, waited eagerly for what might befall.
On this particular day she was not doomed to disappointment. The oldservant was soon seen approaching. Rachel ran to her, clasped her handsround her arm, and raising her lips to her face, kissed heraffectionately.
"Ah, you are a good Nancy to-day!" she exclaimed. "I was here onSaturday and here on Wednesday, and you never came. It was very unkindof you. I got so tired of standing by the oak tree and waiting. Well,Nancy, is the lady quite well to-day?"
"Middling, dearie; middling she ever is and will be until she claims herown again."
"Oh, you mysterious old woman! You are trying to make me desperatelycurious, but I don't believe there is anything in your talk. You worryme to keep a tremendous secret, and there's nothing in it, after all.Oh, of course I'm keeping your secret; you needn't pretend to be sofrightened. And when am I to see the lady of the forest, Nancy?"
"Now, my dear, haven't I told you until I'm tired? You're to see hercome your thirteenth birthday, love. The day you are thirteen you'll seeher, and not an hour sooner."
Rachel stamped her foot angrily.
"I shan't have a birthday till the beginning of May!" she said. "It's ashame; it's a perfect, perfect shame!"
Old Nancy pushed back a rebellious curl from the child's bright head.
"Don't you fret, my pretty," she said tenderly. "The lady wants to seeyou a deal--a sight more than you want to see her. The lady has passedthrough many troubles, and not the least is the waiting to see yourpretty face."
Rachel began eagerly to unbutton her habit, and taking from a littlepocket just inside its lining a tiny bag, she pulled out a small ringand thrust it into Nancy's hand.
"There," she said, "that's the most precious thing I have, and I give itto her. It's all gold, and isn't that a beautiful pearl? I used to wearit on my finger when I wanted to be very grand, but I'd rather she hadit. Perhaps she won't feel so lonely when she wears it, for she willremember that it was given to her by a little girl who is so sorry forher, and who loves her--yes, isn't it queer?--although we have never met.You know, Nancy," continued Rachel, "I can quite sympathize with lonelypeople, for to a certain extent I know what it means. I miss my motherso very much. When I'm grown up, Nancy, I'm going all round the wideworld looking for her."
"Bless you, darling!" said old Nancy. "Yes, I'll give the ring and yourpretty message. And now, love, tell me, how is the little gentlemangetting on? Have the old ladies made him their heir yet?"
"Not quite yet, Nancy; but they like him--we all like him. He is a dearlittle boy, and Aunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine make such a fuss abouthim. Do you know that a week ago I saw Aunt Griselda actually put herarms about his neck and kiss him! She kissed him three or four times.Wasn't it wonderful? for she's such a cold person. I think people can'thelp being fond of little Phil, though he's not exactly pretty. I heardAunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine say that when they do really feelcertain that he is the right heir they are going to have a great,tremendous party, and they will present him to every one as the heir ofAvonsyde, and then immediately afterward he is to be sent to apreparatory school for Eton. Oh, won't Kitty cry when he goes away!"
"Do you make out that the ladies will soon come to a decision, MissRachel?" inquired the old servant in a dubious tone. "It's a wonderfulimportant matter--choosing an heir. Are they likely to settle it all in ahurry?"
Rachel laughed.
"I don't know," she said. "Phil has been with us for four months now;they haven't been in such a hurry. I do hope it will be soon, for I wantthe party. Now, good-by, Nancy; I'll come to see you before long again.Be sure you give my ring to the lady of the forest."
"One moment, missy," said old Nancy, stretching out her hand and drawingthe young girl back to her side. "One moment, Miss Rachel Lovel; I'mfain to see that little boy. Could you manage to bring him this way,missy? Could you manage it without nobody finding out? Is he the kind oflittle fellow who wouldn't tell if you asked him earnest, most earnest,not? I'd like to see him and the lady; but no matter, Miss Rachel, Imisdoubt me that you could manage a clever thing like that."
"Oh, couldn't I?" said Rachel, her eyes sparkling. "Why, I'd like it ofall things! I can easily coax Phil to come here, for he's perfectly wildabout squirrels and animals of all kinds, and I never saw such a lot ofsquirrels as there are in the oaks round here. Phil has got a pony too,and he shall come for a ride with me, and Robert of course can come totake care of us. Oh, I'll manage it; but I didn't know you were such acurious woman, Nancy."
The sun was already showing signs of taking its departure, and Racheldid not dare to prolong her interview another moment.
