The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER III

  A KNIGHT COMES RIDING

  NEXT morning Lloyd found that her exalted mood had faded away with thestars. Any fire must pale before the broad light of day, and hervestal-maiden fervour had given place to a very lively but mundaneinterest in the brother-in-law's brother.

  She was glad to hear at breakfast that he liked tennis, was a goodhorseman, that private theatricals were always a success when he had ahand in them. She stored away in her memory for future use, theinformation that he had lived several years in Spain and Mexico, andspoke Spanish like a native, that unlike Jameson he was prouder of hisCastilian ancestors than his English ones, and that two of his fads werecollecting pipes and rare old ivory carvings.

  "DREW REIN A MOMENT AT THE GATE, TO LOOK DOWN THE STATELYAVENUE."]

  The more she heard about him the less sure she felt of being able tokeep her promise to Gay. It began to seem presumptuous to her that amere school-girl should imagine that she could exert any influenceover such an accomplished man of the world as he evidently was. All thatday she pictured to herself at intervals how she should meet him andwhat she should say. It was a new experience for the haughty Princesswho had always been so indifferent to the opinions of her boy friends.Gay's request had made her self-conscious. Fortunately she had a glimpseof him before he saw her, which helped her to adjust herself to the roleshe wanted to assume.

  The morning after his arrival in the Valley, he and Ranald rode past theLocusts, and drew rein a moment at the gate, to look down the statelyavenue which was always pointed out to strangers. Lloyd watched theirapproach from behind a leafy screen of lilac bushes. The gleam of a wildstrawberry had lured her over there from the path, a few minutes before.Then the discovery of a patch of four-leaf clovers near by had temptedher to a seat on the grass. She was arranging the long stems of theclovers in a cluster when the sound of hoof-beats made her look up.

  So thickset were the lilacs between her and the road that not a glimpseof her white dress or the flutter of a ribbon betrayed her presence, andthey paused to admire the avenue, unknowing that a far prettier picturewas hidden away a few yards from them, in full sound of their voices--agirl half lying in the grass, with June's own fresh charm in her glowingface, and the sunshine throwing dappled leaf shadows over her soft fairhair. The mischievous light in her hazel eyes deepened as she watchedthem.

  "'The knights come riding two by two,'" she quoted in a whisper, closelyscrutinizing the stranger.

  "He rides well, anyhow," was her first thought. The next was that helooked much older than Gay's description had led her to imagine.Probably it was because he wore a moustache, while Rob and Malcolm andAlex and Ranald were all smooth-shaven. Maybe it was that same blackmoustache, with the gleam of white teeth and the flashing glance of hisblack eyes that gave him that dashing cavalier sort of look. Howwonderfully his dark face lighted up when he smiled, and how distinctlyone recalled it when he had passed on. And yet it wasn't a handsomeface. She wondered wherein lay its charm.

  Gay's words recurred to her: "So fiery and impetuous he would riderough-shod over anything that stood in his way to get what he wants."

  "He looks it," she thought, raising her head a trifle to watch them outof sight. "I'm afraid I can't do as much for him as Gay expects for I'llsimply not stand his putting on any of his lordly ways with _me_."Gathering up her clovers, she started back to the house, her head heldhigh unconsciously, in her most Princess-like pose.

  Some one else had watched the passing of the two young men on horseback.From his arm chair on the white pillared porch, old Colonel Lloydreached out to the wicker table beside him for his field-glass, to focusit on the distant entrance gate.

  "I don't seem to place them," he said aloud. "It looks like young Waltonon the roan, but the other one is a stranger in these parts."

  Then as he saw they were not coming in, he shifted the glass to otherobjects. Slowly his gaze swept the landscape from side to side, till itrested on Lloyd, sitting on the grass by the lilac thicket, sorting herlapful of clovers.

  Something in her childish occupation and the sunny gleam of the proudlittle head bowed intently over her task, recalled another scene to theold Colonel; that morning when through this same glass he had watchedher first entrance into Locust. Was it fourteen or fifteen years ago? Itseemed only yesterday that he had found her near that same spot coollyfeeding his choicest strawberries to an elfish looking dog. Time hadgone so fast since his imperious little grand-daughter had come into hislife to fill it with new interests and deeper meaning. Yes, it certainlyseemed no longer ago than yesterday that she was tyrannizing over him inher adorable baby fashion, making an abject slave of him, whom every oneelse feared. And now here she was coming towards him across the lawn, atall, fair girl in the last summer of her teens. Why Amanthis was noolder than she when he had brought her home to Locust, a bride. And nodoubt some one would be coming soon, wanting to carry away Lloyd, thelight of his eyes and the life of the place.

  It made him angry to think of it, and when she stopped beside his chairto give him a soft pat on the cheek her first remark sent a jealoustwinge through him.

  "So _that's_ who the stranger was with young Walton," he responded."_Humph!_ I don't think much of him."

  "But grandfathah, how could you tell at such a distance?" laughed Lloyd."It isn't fair to form an opinion at such long range. You'd bettah comewith us tonight again ovah to the Cabin, and make his acquaintance.There's to be anothah housewahming, especially for him. Kitty and Ranaldare engineering it. They've invited all the young people in theneighbourhood--sawt of a surprise you know. At least they call it that,although Gay and Lucy are expecting us. Even Rob is going, for Kittywaylaid him as he got off the train yestahday evening, and talked himinto consenting."

  "I'm glad of that," answered the old Colonel heartily. "'All work and noplay makes Jack a dull boy.' This last year has been hard on the lad.The Judge tells me he's never left the place a single night since hisDaddy died. He just grinds along in that hardware store all day, and isinto his law books as soon as he gets home. He's getting to be an oldman before his time. I'm glad your little friend Gay is here thissummer, on his account, if for no other reason. She'll draw him out ofhis shell if anybody can. I remember how much he seemed to be taken withher that Christmas Vacation she spent in the Valley."

  Lloyd gaped at him in astonishment. "Why grandfathah! I nevah dreamedthat you noticed things like _that_!"

  "I certainly do, my dear," he answered playfully. "I was young myselfonce upon a time. It's easy to recognize familiar landmarks on a roadyou've travelled. But why," he said suddenly in a changed tone, "if Imay be so bold as to ask, _why_ is this young Texan to be ushered intothe valley with this blare of trumpets and torchlight effect? Is heanything out of the ordinary?"

  "No, but it will make him feel that he hasn't dropped down into a pokyinland village with nothing doing, but into a lovely social whirlinstead. They want him to be so pleased with the place that he'll besatisfied to stay all summah."

  It was almost on the tip of her tongue to tell why his family were sodesirous of keeping him with them, but another scornful "_humph!_"checked her. For some unaccountable reason the old Colonel seemed tohave taken a dislike to this stranger, and she knew that thisinformation would deepen it to such an extent, that he would not wanther to have anything to do with him.

  "He'd be furious if he knew what I promised Gay," she thought, "for hetakes such violent prejudices that the least thing 'adds fuel to theflame.' He might not want me to let him call heah or anything."

  "What do you keep saying '_humph!_' to me foh?" she asked saucily,"when I'm trying to tell you the news and am so kind and polite as toask you to go to the pahty with us. It's dreadful to have such an oldogah of a grandfathah, who makes you shake in yoah shoes every time heopens his mouth."

  Her arm was round his neck as she spoke, and her cheek pressed againsthis. The caress drove away every other thought save that it was good tohave his little Colonel h
ome again, and he gave a pleased chuckle as shewent on scolding him in a playful manner that no one else in the worldever dared assume with him. But all the while that she was twisting hiswhite moustache, and braiding his Napoleon-like goatee into a funnylittle tail, she was thinking about the evening, and the indifferent airwith which she intended to meet Leland Harcourt. She would have to beindifferent, and oblivious of his existence as far as she couldpolitely, because Gay had told him that she was unapproachable andunattainable. She would talk to Rob most of the evening, she decided.She was glad that she would have the opportunity, for she had not seenhim since coming home. He had called at The Locusts the night after herreturn from school, but that was the night she had stayed at the Cabinwith Gay, and she had missed him.

  "Did you know that your trunks came while you were at the post-office?"asked the Colonel presently. Owing to some mistake in checking theirbaggage in Washington, Lloyd's trunks had been delayed, and she had beenwearing some of Betty's clothes the two days she had been at home.

  "Why didn't you tell me soonah?" she asked, springing up from her seaton the arm of his chair. "I've been puzzling my brains all mawning ovahwhat I could weah tonight." Hastily gathering up the handful of cloversthat she had dropped on the wicker table, she ran upstairs. Everythingin her pink bower of a room was in confusion. Her Commencement gown layon the bed like an armful of thistledown, with her gloves and lace fanbeside it. On the mantel stood the little white slippers in which shehad tripped across the rostrum at Warwick Hall to receive her diplomafrom Madam Chartley's hands. Now the diploma with its imposing red sealsand big blue satin bow, was reposing on top of the clock on the samemantel with the slippers, and from the open trunks which Mom Beck wasunpacking, a motley collection of books, clothing, sorority banners andschool-girl souvenirs flowed out all over the floor.

  The old coloured woman was garrulous this morning. Her trip toWashington "with all her white folks, to her baby's Finishment" (shecouldn't understand why it should be called Commencement), had been theevent of her life; and when she could get no one else to listen, shetalked to herself, recounting each incident of her journey with unctuousenjoyment.

  She was on her knees now before one of the trunks, talking so earnestlyinto its depths, that Lloyd, entering the room, looked around to see whoher audience could be. At the sound of Lloyd's step the monologue cameto a sudden stop, and the wrinkled old face turned with a smile.

  "What you want me to do with all these yeah school books, honey, now youdone with 'em fo' evah?"

  "Mercy, Mom Beck! don't talk as if I had come to the end of every thing,and am too old to study any moah! I expect to keep up my French andGerman all next wintah, even if I am a debutante. Don't you remembahwhat Madam Chartley said in her lovely farewell speech to thegraduating class? What's the good of taking you to Commencement, ifthat's all the impression it made?"

  A pleased cackle of a laugh answered her. "Law, honey, I couldn't listento speeches! I was too busy thinkin' of Becky Potah in her black silkdress that ole Cun'l give me for the grand occasion, an' the purplepansies in my bonnet. The queen o' Sheby couldn't held a can'le to me_that_ day."

  She was off on another chapter of reminiscences now, but Lloyd paid noattention. As she picked up the books and found places for them on thelow shelves that filled one side of the room, she felt as if she wereassisting at the last sad rites of something very dear; for each pagewas eloquent with happy memories of her last year at school. Everyscribbled margin recalled some pleasant recitation hour, and most of thefly-leaves were decorated by Kitty's ridiculous caricatures. She andKitty had been room-mates this last year.

  In order to find place for these books, which she had just brought home,she had to carry a row of old ones down to the library. They werejuvenile tales, most of them, which she laid aside; girls' stories thathad once been a never failing source of delight. She could remember thetime (and not so very long ago, either) when it had seemed impossiblethat she could out-grow them. And now as she trailed down stairs with anarmful of her old favourites, she felt as if the shadowy figure of herchildhood, the little Lloyd that used to be, followed her withreproachful glances for her disloyalty to these discarded friends.

  On her way back to her room for a second armful, she stopped outsideBetty's door for a moment, hoping to hear some noise within, which wouldindicate that Betty was not at her desk. There was so much that shewanted to talk to her about. One of the things she had looked forward tomost eagerly in her home-coming was the long, sisterly talks they wouldhave together. Now it was a disappointment to find her so absorbed inher writing that she was as inaccessible as if she had withdrawn into acloister.

  "I'll be glad when the old book is finished," thought Lloyd impatientlyas she tip-toed away from the door. To her, Betty's ability to write wasa mysterious and wonderful gift. Not for anything would she haveinterrupted her when "genius burned," but she resented the fact that itshould rise between them as it had done lately. Even when Betty was notshut up in her room actually at work, her thoughts seemed to be on it.She was living in a world of her own creating, more interested in thecharacters of her fancy than those who sat at table with her. Sincebeginning the last chapter she had been so preoccupied andabsent-minded, that Lloyd hardly knew her. She was so unlike the oldBetty, the sympathetic confidante and counsellor, who had beeninterested in even the smallest of her griefs and joys.

  If Lloyd could have looked on the other side of the closed door justthen, the expression on Betty's face would have banished every feelingof impatience or resentment, and sent her quietly away to wait andwonder, while Betty passed through one of the great hours of her life.

  With a tense, earnest face bent over the manuscript, she reached theclimax of her story--the last page, the last paragraph. Then with athrobbing heart, she halted a moment, pen in hand, before adding thewords, _The End_. She wrote them slowly, reverently almost, and thenrealizing that the ambition of her life had been accomplished, looked upwith an expression of child-like awe in her brown eyes. It was done atlast, the work that she had pledged herself to do so long ago, backthere in the little old wooden church at the Cuckoo's Nest.

  For a time she forgot the luxurious room where she sat, and was back atthe beginning of her ambition and high resolves, in that plain oldmeeting house in the grove of cedars. Again she tiptoed down the emptyaisle, that was as still as a tomb, save for the buzzing of a wasp atthe open window through which she had climbed. Again she opened thelittle red book-case above the back pew, that held the remnants of ascattered Sunday-school library. The queer musty smell of thetime-yellowed volumes floated out to her as strong as ever, minglingwith the warm spicy scent of pinks and cedar, from the graveyard justoutside the open window.

  Those tattered books, read in secret to Davy on sunny summer afternoons,had been the first voices to whisper to her that she too was destined toleave a record behind her. And now that she had done it, they seemed tocall her back to that starting place. Sitting there in happy reverie,she wished that she could make a pilgrimage back to the little church.She would like to slip down its narrow aisle just when the afternoon sunwas shining yellowest on its worn benches and old altar, and dropping onher knees as she had done years ago in a transport of gratitude, whispera happy "Thank you, God" from the depths of a glad little heart.

  Presently the whisper did go up from her desk where she sat with herface in her hands. Then reaching out for the last volume of the whiteand gold series that chronicled her good times, she opened it to where ablotter kept the place at a half written page, and added this entry.

  "June 20th. Truly a red-letter day, for hereon endeth my story of'_Aberdeen Hall_.' The book is written at last. Two chapters are stillto be copied on the typewriter, but the 'web' itself is woven, and readyto be cut from the loom. I am glad now that I waited; that I did notattempt to publish anything in my teens. The world looks very differentto me now at twenty. I have outgrown my early opinions and ideals withmy short dresses, just as Mrs. Walton said we would. Now
the critics cansay 'Thou waitedst till thy woman's fingers wrought the best that laywithin thy woman's heart.' I can say honestly I have put the very bestof me into it, and the feeling of satisfaction that I have accomplishedthe one great thing I started out to do so many years ago, gives me morehappiness I am sure, than any 'diamond leaf' that any prince couldbring."

  Such elation as was Betty's that hour, seldom comes to one more thanonce in a life-time. Years afterward her busy pen produced far worthierbooks, which were beloved and bethumbed in thousands of libraries, butnone of them ever brought again that keen inward thrill, that wave ofintense happiness which surged through her warm and sweet, as she satlooking down on that first completed manuscript. She was loath to lay itaside, for the joy of the creator possessed her, and in the first flushof pleased surveyal of her handiwork, she humbly called it good.

  She went down to lunch in such an uplifted frame of mind that she seemedto be walking on air. But Betty was always quiet, even in her mostintense moments. Save for the brilliant colour in her cheeks and theunusual light in her eyes there was no sign of her inward excitement.She slipped into her seat at table with the careless announcement "Well,it's finished."

  It was Lloyd who made all the demonstration amid the familycongratulations. Waving her napkin with one hand and clicking two spoonstogether like castanets, she sprang from her chair and rushed around thetable to give vent to her pleasure by throwing her arms around Betty ina delighted embrace.

  "Oh you little mouse!" she cried. "How can you sit there taking it socalmly? If I had done such an amazing thing as to write a book, I'd haveslidden down the ban'istahs with a whoop, to announce it, and comewalking in on my hands instead of my feet.

  "Of co'se I'm just as proud of it as the rest of the family are," sheadded when she had expended her enthusiasm and gone back to her seat,"but now that it's done I'll confess that I've been jealous of that oldbook evah since I came home, and I'm mighty glad it's out of the way.Now you'll have time to take some interest in what the rest of us aredoing, and you'll feel free to go in, full-swing, for the celebration atthe Cabin tonight."

  All the rest of that day seemed a fete day to Betty. Her inward glowlent a zest to the doing of even the most trivial things, and sheprepared for the gaieties at the Cabin, as if it were her ownentertainment, pleased that this red-letter occasion of her life shouldbe marked by some kind of a celebration. It was to do honour to the dayand not to the Harcourt's guest, that she arrayed herself in her mostbecoming gown.

  Rob dropped in early, quite in the old way as if there had never been acessation of his daily visits, announcing that he had come to escort thegirls to the Cabin. Lloyd who was not quite ready, leaned over thebanister in the upper hall for a glimpse of her old playmate, intendingto call down some word of greeting; but he looked so grave and dignifiedas he came forward under the hall chandelier to shake hands with Betty,that she drew back in silence.

  The next instant she resented this new feeling of reserve that seemed torise up and wipe out all their years of early comradery. Why shouldn'tshe call down to him over the banister as she had always done? she askedherself defiantly. He was still the same old Rob, even if he had grownstern and grave looking. She leaned over again, but this time it was thesight of Betty that stopped her. She had never seen her so beaming, sopositively radiant. In that filmy yellow dress, she might have posed asthe Daffodil Maid. Her cheeks were still flushed, her velvety brown eyesluminous with the joy of the day's achievement.

  Lloyd watched her a moment in fascinated admiration, as she stoodlaughing and talking under the hall light. Then she saw that Rob wasjust as much impressed with Betty's attractiveness as she was, and waslooking at her as if he had made a discovery.

  His pleased glance and the frank compliment that followed sent a thoughtinto Lloyd's mind that made her wonder why it had never occurred to herbefore. How well Betty would fit into the establishment over at Oaklea.What a dear daughter she would make to Mrs. Moore, and what a joy shewould be to the old Judge! Rob seemed to be finding her immenselyentertaining. Well, there was no need for her to hurry down now. Shecould take her time about changing her dress.

  Lloyd could not have told what had made her decide so suddenly that herdress needed changing. She had put on a pale green dimity that she likedbecause it was simple and cool-looking, but now after a glance into themirror she began to slip it off.

  "It looks like a wilted lettuce leaf," she said petulantly to herreflection, realizing that nothing but white could hold its own whenbrought in contact with Betty's gown. That pale exquisite shade ofglowing yellow would be the dominating colour in any place it might beworn.

  "I must live up to Gay's expectations," she thought, "so white it shallbe, Senor Harcourt!"

  His dark face with its flashing smile rose before her, and stayed in theforeground of her thoughts, all the time she was arraying herself in herdaintiest, fluffiest white organdy. Clasping the little necklace ofRoman pearls around her throat, and catching up her lace fan, she sweptup to the mirror for a last anxious survey. It was a thoroughlysatisfactory one, and with a final smoothing of ribbons she smiled overher shoulder at the charming reflection.

  "Now I'll go down and practise my airs and graces on Rob and Betty forawhile. But I'll leave them in peace after we get to the Cabin, for ifthere should be any possibility of their beginning to care for eachothah, I wouldn't get in the way for worlds. Now _this_ is the way I'llsail in to meet Mistah Harcourt!"

  Thus it happened that the hauteur with which she intended to impress himwas in her manner when she swept in to greet Rob. It was not meant forRob but it had the same effect as if it were, making him feel as if shewished to drop the friendly familiarity of their school days, and meethim on the footing of a recent acquaintance. He had been looking forwardall year to her home-coming, and now it gave him a vague sense ofdisappointment and injury, that she should be as conventionallygracious to him as if he were the veriest stranger. His eyes followedher wistfully, as if looking for something very precious which he hadlost.

  Wholly unconscious of the way she was spoiling the evening for him Lloydwent on playing the part of Serene Highness, laid out for her. Never toGay's admiring eyes had she seemed more beautiful, more the fairunattainable Princess, than she was in her meeting with Leland Harcourt.Gay wanted to pat her on the back, for she saw that she had made thevery impression expected of her. Long practice had made Gay quick ininterpreting Leland's slightest change of expression, and she was wellpleased now with what she read in his face.

  But to Lloyd, the dark, smiling eyes, regarding everything with aslightly amused expression, showed nothing more than the superficialinterest which ordinary politeness demanded of him. He made some prettyspeech about the Valley and his pleasure in meeting its charming people,and then stood talking only long enough to make her feel that Gay wasright in her estimate of him. He was entertaining, even fascinating inhis manner, more entertaining than any man she had ever met. But just asshe reached this conclusion she found herself handed over in someunaccountable way to some one else, and that was the last of hisattention to her that night.

  He seemed immensely entertained by Kitty, and much interested in Bettyand the fact that she had finished writing a book that very day. Gayheralded her advent with that news. Lloyd could overhear little scrapsof conversation that made her long to have a share in it. His reparteewas positively brilliant she found herself thinking; the kind that onereads of in books, but never hears elsewhere.

  For the first time in her life Lloyd felt herself calmly anddeliberately ignored, just as she had planned to ignore him.

  "Maybe it's because Gay told him that I would be so indifferent," shethought, "and he doesn't think it worth the effort to put himself out tomake me be nice to him. I don't care."

  Nevertheless a little feeling of disappointment and pique crept in tospoil her evening also, for in the limited wisdom of her school-girlexperiences she did not recognize that this worldly-wise young man wasignoring her because
he was interested; that he had only adopted her owntactics as the surest way of gaining his end.