The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Don’t trouble your head about the matter,” remarked Sister Aline. “It’s a ridiculous invention of the groom.”

  “No, I believe it to be true,” said Mildred. “I thought something unpleasant would come of this expedition. They both seemed so anxious about it.”

  “Why didn’t you go with them?” asked Sister Aline.

  “I should only have been in the way,” replied Mildred. “Besides, I have resolved never to ride out again.”

  “There you are wrong,” said Sister Aline. “This could not have happened if you had made one of the party.”

  “I’m not sure of that,” replied the other. “They don’t mind me. No doubt the explanation of this incident will be that Rose was so dreadfully frightened by the thunder, that she didn’t know what she was about, but I don’t believe it.”

  “Pray pardon me, Madame, for the bétise I have committed,” implored Georgette. “I blame myself exceedingly for mentioning the circumstance to you. But I still believe the two persons were Lady Talmash and the Comte.”

  “Make no more excuses. Where is your master? In the drawing-room?”

  “No, Madame,” replied Georgette, looking rather embarrassed. “Monsieur and the Comte have gone with the ladies in the open carriage to Brereton Hall.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Mildred.

  “Perhaps they may have come back by this time, Madame, shall I see?”

  “No, no,” cried her mistress. “But you needn’t stay here.”

  As soon as Georgette had withdrawn, Sister Aline took her friend’s hand, and said to her in an affectionate tone, “Pray don’t view this silly matter in a serious light. It means nothing, I’m certain. Rose must have been dreadfully frightened by the storm, and Tom, no doubt, grossly exaggerated what he beheld. As to the two gentlemen driving out with the ladies to Brereton Hall, that means nothing. But if you desire to be happy, you must really dismiss all feelings of jealousy, for which there is no cause. Rose regards you as a sister and would never deceive you; but little circumstances will occur — as they have occurred to-day — that may throw an air of suspicion on the most blameless conduct. For my own part, I don’t believe half that was told by the groom to Georgette, but I quite acquit him of any design to make mischief.”

  “Yes, I am sure he didn’t intend that,” said Mildred; “neither did Georgette — she spoke without consideration and only meant to amuse us. I will do my best to cure myself of this causeless jealousy. It certainly does interfere with my happiness. Apart from any such feelings I am very much attached to Rose and regard her as a sister.”

  “I know it,” replied Sister Aline. “Now pray attend to what I am about to say, and act upon it. You have taken a resolution not to ride on horseback again. There you are wrong. By adhering to it, you will lose a great deal of your husband’s society and voluntarily surrender your proper place by his side to others. Besides, I shall not flatter you when I say that no one here rides so well as you do. Your worthy father is of the same opinion and constantly regrets your disappearance. By resuming equestrian exercise in moderation — mind, I say, in moderation — you will please both him and your husband.”

  “I will consider your counsel, dear Sister,” said Mildred. “But I am really afraid that the resumption of horse exercise will bring me ill-luck. I know you will deem me weak and superstitious to indulge such a notion, but I cannot help it.”

  “What kind of ill-luck do you apprehend?” asked Sister Aline.

  “I know not,” replied Mildred. “But if I should become as vain and foolish as I was formerly, I would pot answer for myself and I therefore think I ought to avoid temptation.”

  “Undoubtedly, unless you feel strong enough to resist it. But in my opinion you have obtained perfect control over yourself and have nothing to fear.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.”

  At this moment the door opened, and Stanley came in. His wife seemed pleased to see him.

  “Georgette tells me you have been inquiring about me,” he said. “I have just been to Brereton with Lady Talmash and Rose. They seemed to have quite recovered their spirits. I have promised to take them out again some early day, provided you will go with us — but not otherwise.”

  “I will think the matter over and let you know my decision to-morrow.”

  “I’ve just been urging her to ride out with you,” remarked Sister Aline.

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” replied Stanley. “Use your influence and all difficulties will vanish. But I’m glad she didn’t go with us to-day, for all pleasure was spoiled by the storm.”

  “Was it a very bad storm?” asked Sister Aline.

  “Very bad,” he replied. “I never beheld a worse. Rose and myself had really a most miraculous escape from destruction; but she was well-nigh frightened to death. I shall avoid trees in future. So you may safely promise to accompany us on our next excursion.”

  “Will you let me ride by your side and not leave me to the care of other persons?” asked Mildred.

  “I will,” he replied.

  “That is a great inducement,” she said. “But I can’t promise now.”

  Stanley looked puzzled, but turning to Sister Aline said, “I calculate on your aid.”

  He then quitted the room.

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  MILDRED AGREES TO RIDE OUT WITH STANLEY ALONE.

  No one could have suited Mr. Warburton better than Lady Starkey. She quite understood his tastes and habits, and laid herself out to please him. With all the visitors she was extremely popular, being very affable and obliging; and the whole household was devoted to her. Perhaps the only person she did not really like was Sister Aline, but she always behaved to her with the greatest possible kindness and consideration, and they had never had the slightest misunderstanding. Sister Aline, indeed, had a very great respect for her.

  Hitherto, Lady Starkey had maintained her good looks and she always dressed remarkably well. Nothing had surprised her more than Mildred’s remarkable recovery, and whether she was altogether pleased by it may be doubted; but at any rate she behaved very well and allowed no sign of annoyance to appear.

  For Rose her affection was quite maternal. Having secretly calculated upon a union between her niece and Stanley, her disappointment that it was thwarted must have been excessive. Still, she indulged secret hopes that the marriage might yet take place. But these hopes were visionary. Mildred was now in perfect health and in point of beauty surpassed Rose. But both aunt and niece, though they said nothing to each other, entertained the opinion that Rose was preferred.

  Unquestionably she was very much admired by some of the gentlemen who visited Beaucliffe, and who could not fail to be struck by her beauty and attractive manner; but she gave none of them encouragement and the notion began to be entertained that she had some previous engagement — just as it was understood that Lady Talmash was engaged to the Comte de Clairvaux. Stanley, therefore, had no cause for uneasiness.

  Mildred, as we have shown, tried to conquer her jealousy, but was not entirely successful. Whenever she became tranquil some fresh excitement occurred, and she felt quite sure that any resolutions she might form, as to self-control, would be broken. In short, after a good deal of consideration, she came to the conclusion that an equestrian party would not suit her, and resolved to decline it.

  Seeing Stanley on the lawn, next morning, she went out to him, and said, “I must really beg you to excuse my accompanying you and a riding party for the present. You’re very good to ask me, but I think I’m best out of the way.”

  “Well, well! just as you please! If you would rather not go, don’t But you mustn’t desert me altogether.”

  “The very first time I can prevail upon myself to appear on horseback again, shall be with you,” said Mildred to Stanley. “Have you fixed where you’ll go?”

  “I had thought of Vale Royal.”

  “Ah! that will be a charming excursion!”

  “I’ll
keep it for you, if you like, and take them to Rostheme Mere.”

  “No, keep Rostheme for me.”

  “As you please. There are twenty lovely places to which I can take you, as you know. But it is useless to decide on any of them until you have made up your mind to accompany me.”

  “I’ll give you my decision before long,” she rejoined. “But tell me why you are so anxious to have me with you? I should have thought Rose would be a more agreeable companion.”

  “I want to see you on horseback again,” he replied; “and satisfy myself that you really can ride as well as you used to do, for I can scarcely believe it Remember it’s a very long time since I saw you in the saddle and you may have lost your nerve.”

  “I scarcely think so,” she replied confidently. “Well, I’m glad you entertain that opinion, at all events,” he replied. “But I shall never feel quite satisfied of your perfect restoration till I see you by my side. Your father says the same thing. ‘When once she has taken a glorious gallop’ — those were his words— ‘such a gallop as she used to take in former days, I shall be content, but not till then.’”

  “Well, I’ve listened to what you have to say,” she rejoined. “Now, hear me. My objection to riding, at least, to hunting, is that it encourages feelings of vanity and display, and these I have conquered. Why should I revive them? Why should I expose myself to temptation? I was no better, no happier, when I was constantly on horseback, but I thought more of myself and was gratified by the admiration I excited. My dear father was excessively proud of me, and encouraged me, thus increasing the mischief. All my errors are attributable to this training and to the foolish course I pursued. You saw what I was like when you first beheld me. You know what I became. There is an intoxication in the praises bestowed upon a fearless rider that turns the head, and I constantly suffered from it. Can you wonder that I had resolved never again to run so great a risk?”

  “I cannot — I do not—” rejoined Stanley. “But you entirely mistake me. I am not like your worthy father. I do not wish you to resume your former practices. Were you to tell me that you meant to enter the hunting-field again, I would dissuade you from doing so — but a quiet ride — such as I propose — can do no harm.”

  “There is no telling what it may lead to,” said Mildred. “I would rather remain on the safe side. I will never hunt again. On that I am resolved.”

  “I do not ask you to hunt,” rejoined Stanley. “I ask you merely to accompany me in my rides on horseback, and you ought not, in my opinion, to have any difficulty in complying with the request.”

  “I should not mind riding with you alone,” said Mildred. “But I object to others.”

  “What can that matter?” he asked, looking rather displeased. “They wouldn’t interfere with you.”

  “I am not so sure of that,” she replied. “If I accede to your request, I must stipulate that we ride out alone.”

  “That would be rather awkward, and would look as if you objected to some of the others.”

  “I can’t help that. I shan’t interfere with them — they mustn’t do so with me.”

  “Well, when will you make a start?”

  “In the course of a month — but I cannot fix a day.”

  “Why not?”

  “I still feel nervous. But I won’t keep you in suspense longer than I can help.”

  “Now mind, you have made a promise, and must fulfil it.”

  “I will,” she replied, hastening to the house, and entering by the French window.

  A few minutes later, Lady Talmash and Rose made their appearance. They had just come from Brereton.

  “What news?” inquired Lady Talmash. “Does Mildred go with us on our excursion?”

  “No,” he replied. “She will only ride out with me alone.”

  CHAPTER XL.

  AGAIN ON HORSEBACK.

  “How is it that Mildred refuses to ride out with us, I wonder?” said Lady Talmash. “Can she be jealous?”

  “I should think not,” replied Rose. “But her feelings must have wonderfully changed. At one time, she liked nothing so much as praise for her splendid horsemanship. Now she affects to care nothing about it — but I think she does. Stanley was to take her out alone for a short ride this morning. I’m curious to hear how they got on.”

  “Oh! they’ll get on very well, depend upon it,” said Lady Talmash.

  This conversation took place in the entrance-hall of Brereton, where the two ladies met, when they came downstairs, and they now proceeded to the front door, which was left open, and showed them Stanley and Mildred riding up to the house.

  “There they are, I declare,” cried Rose. “Quite alone — no groom with them.”

  And the two ladies hastened forward to greet them.

  Mildred looked remarkably well in her riding habit — never better. She was likewise very well mounted, though not on her famous hunter. Both ladies told her how delighted they were to see her on horseback again, and their looks left no doubt as to their sincerity.

  “Why, you are quite like your former self!” cried Lady Talmash, “only handsomer!”

  “Yes, I positively declare I never saw you looking better!” exclaimed Rose. “Stanley must be congratulated on what he has accomplished.”

  “After such a good beginning, I hope you mean to take a gallop every morning,” said Lady Talmash.

  “It shan’t be my fault if we don’t,” replied Stanley. “And I think Mildred is pleased.”

  “Yes, I confess I’m better satisfied than I expected to be,” she replied.

  “Ere long, I hope you’ll take us out with you?” said Rose.

  “I can make no promise,” replied Mildred, gravely. “I mean to go on very quietly.”

  “Well, follow up the course you have commenced this morning, at any rate,” said Lady Talmash. “Horse exercise, I am sure, will do you good. You have always been accustomed to it.”

  “I shall go on, I dare say, now that I have started,” rejoined Mildred. “But when I first went out, this morning, I was full of uneasiness, lest I should be led into my former errors. But I soon found I was greatly changed.”

  “You view the matter much too seriously,” said Lady Talmash.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Mildred. “Formerly, the healthy exercise of hunting was a minor consideration with me. I thought only of display — of showing off before a crowded field. Now I can resist the temptation. ‘At least, I hope so.”

  “I have no doubt of it,” said Rose.

  “But I don’t mean to put myself to the test, if I can help it,” rejoined Mildred. “Stanley has promised to look carefully after me when I am on horseback, and keep me out of all scrapes.”

  “Oh! you’ll get into none,” he rejoined, laughing. “But come. We must be making our way to Beaucliffe. We shall see you after breakfast.”

  At this moment Mrs. Brereton appeared at the door, followed by Minshull.

  “Stop a minute,” she cried. “I want to say a word to you.”

  “You will be surprised to see me on horseback again, after all I have said,” exclaimed Mildred, moving towards her.

  Mrs. Brereton regarded her with admiration as did the old butler, who could not repress his delight.

  “Why, you look better than you ever did; don’t she, ma’am?” he cried.

  “She looks exceedingly well, and I’m rejoiced to see her on horseback again,” remarked his mistress.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased,” said Mildred to the old lady. “I was rather afraid, but now all’s right.” Then leaning forward, she added in a whisper, “No more hunting.”

  “I’m glad of it,” cried Mrs. Brereton approvingly.

  “Now for Beaucliffe,” cried Stanley, making his way to the gate.

  Aware that his daughter had ridden out that morning for the first time since her illness, Mr. Warburton was looking out for her return; and when Stanley and Mildred entered the long drive leading to the mansion, they found him there.
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br />   The smile that illumined the worthy Squire’s countenance as he gazed at his daughter, while holding her bridle, was delightful to see. For a moment he could not speak, but he soon recovered, and drawing near her, said, “Now, you have really gladdened my heart. I seem to behold you again as you were when all was bright. Keep as you now are, and I shall desire nothing more.”

  “But don’t ask me to hunt again, dearest Papa, for I can’t obey you.”

  “I won’t ask you to do anything that may be disagreeable to you,” he rejoined. “I simply wish to express the pleasure I feel in seeing you again on horseback.”

  “I think we have made a most agreeable commencement,” said Stanley. “We shall certainly succeed, if we are not in too great a hurry.”

  “Don’t expect too much of me, dearest Papa — that is all I ask,” said Mildred.

  “You have begun excellently,” he rejoined, “and I am glad you have conquered your foolish prejudices.”

  Amongst those who welcomed Mildred on her return was Georgette. She was standing in front of the mansion with Tom the groom, and quite clapped her hands with delight as Mildred came up. Tom likewise expressed his satisfaction, though in a more decorous manner, as he assisted his young mistress to dismount. Lady Starkey was present, and knowing she should please the Squire, was enthusiastic in her praise of Mildred’s appearance. The Comte de Clairvaux and Sir Randal also came forward, and showered compliments upon her, but she escaped from them and hurried up-stairs.

  “You have made a famous start, I see,” said Sir Randal to Stanley.

  “Yes, I have done well enough to-day,” replied the other. “But I doubt whether I shall be able to go on.”

  “Don’t despair!” cried the Comte. “Don’t despair!”

  When Mildred came down to breakfast — after taking off her riding-habit with Georgette’s aid — she met with a second warm reception, and prompted, probably, by Stanley and the Squire, everybody told her she must “go on.”

  She smiled at the anxiety displayed, but made no promise; and those who preferred the request, thought compliance doubtful.