Nurse Elisia. Fenn George Manville
we’re late,” said Mr Elthorne, with a look at Aunt Anne.
“That means it is my fault, Mr Beck,” said the lady; “but never mind, my dear, sit down and have some more. Sailors always have good appetites.”
“Oh, well, just a drop of coffee,” said the young man, for Isabel had quickly filled a cup, and was holding it out to him. “Thanks, Miss Elthorne; but really I did not mean – ”
“You are on the vicar’s cob?” said Mr Elthorne quickly, as he noted his daughter’s heightened colour, and the young man’s hesitation and evident pleasure.
“Try some of this game pie, Beck,” cried Alison, pushing over a plate. “Aunt Anne finished the kidneys.”
“Ally, my dear.”
“Oh, thanks,” said the visitor, taking the plate as he settled himself at the table. “Cob, sir? Oh, no; a friend sent me over one of his horses. I have had it these three days.”
A curious look of trouble crossed Isabel’s countenance, and she sat watching the speaker as he went on: “That’s the worst of being ashore. Everyone is so kind. I am always spoiled, and it takes me a month to get over it when I get back to my ship.”
“And when do you go?” said Mr Elthorne.
“This day fortnight, sir.”
“For six months, isn’t it?”
“There is no certainty, sir, I’m sorry to say. We may be ordered on to Japan afterward.”
“Isabel, my dear, I am sure Mr Beck will excuse you.”
“Eh? Oh, yes, certainly,” said the visitor with his lips, but with a denial of the words in his eyes.
“Go and put on your riding habit, my dear. Aunt Anne will pour out the coffee.”
“Yes, papa,” said the girl; and she rose, and, after exchanging glances with their visitor, left the room.
“Oh, yes, I’ll pour out the coffee,” said Aunt Anne, changing her seat. “You are very fond of riding, Mr Beck, are you not?”
“Well, ye-es,” said the young man, laughing, and with an apologetic look at his host and friend; “I like it very much, but I always seem such a poor horseman among all these hard riders, and feel as if I ought to congratulate myself when I get back safe.”
“Oh, well,” said Mr Elthorne condescendingly, “you would have the laugh at us if you got us to sea. Did you see anything of Sir Cheltnam?”
“No; I came by the lower road.”
“Here he is – they are, I ought to say,” cried Alison, jumping up and going to the window.
“Eh?” ejaculated Mr Elthorne, rising too, and joining his son at the window to watch a party of three coming across the park at a hard gallop – the party consisting of two ladies and a gentleman, with one of the ladies leading, well back in her saddle, evidently quite at her ease.
“Humph,” muttered Mr Elthorne; and then in a low voice to his son: “Of course. If you had had any brains you would have ridden out to meet them, and not left them to another escort.”
“Oh, I shall be with them all day, sir, and – Ah Saxa, you foolish girl,” he cried excitedly, of course with his words perfectly inaudible to the member of the group whom he was addressing. “The horse will rush that fence as sure as I’m here. Oh, hang all wire and hurdles!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Beck, starting from the table as Alison opened the French window and stepped out. “My word, how those two girls can ride.”
“Like Amazons, sir,” said Mr Elthorne proudly, as he watched the party, now coming over the closely cropped turf at quite a racing pace; and his voice was full of the excitement he felt. “Will she see it, Al, my boy? Yes, she rises – cleared it like a swallow. Bravo! With such a lead the others are safe to – ”
“Well done! Well over!” cried Alison, from outside, as he began clapping his hands.
“Capital! Bravo!” cried Mr Elthorne, following his son’s example, as he now stepped outside to meet the party who were rapidly coming up after skimming over the hurdle which formed part of the ring fence of the estate.
“All safe over, Mrs Barnett,” said the vicar’s son, returning to the table.
“Then they don’t deserve to be, Mr Beck,” said the lady. “I do not approve of girls being so horribly masculine. If our Isabel were like that, I should feel as if I had not done my duty to her since her poor mother died.”
“But she is not like that,” said the visitor, after a quick glance at the open window.
“No, my dear, not a bit. I hate to see young ladies such tomboys. But there – poor girls! – no mother – no father.”
“And no Aunt Anne to guide them,” interpolated the visitor.
“Thank you, my dear. It’s very nice of you to say so. I’m afraid I’m not clever, but I do try to act a mother’s part to dear Isabel. I don’t know, though, what I shall do when Neil and Alison marry those two. They don’t like me a bit, and, between ourselves, I really don’t like them.”
“Morning, daddy,” came in a loud, breathless voice from the outside. “What do you think of that?”
“Morning,” came in another voice; and the word was repeated again in the deep tones of a man, and supplemented by the snortings of horses.
“Morning, my dears. Capital! But very imprudent. I will not have you trying to break that pretty little neck – nor you neither, Dana. Burwood, you should not have encouraged them.”
“I? That’s good, Mr Elthorne. They both took the bit in their teeth, and all I could do was to follow.”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” cried the second voice. “What a fuss about a canter. Come, you folks, are you ready?”
“How’s Aunt Anne?”
“Good gracious me! Is the girl mad?” cried that lady, as there was the crunching of gravel, the window was darkened, a horse’s hoofs sounded loudly on the step, and the head and neck of a beautiful animal were thrust right into the room, with the bright, merry face of a girl close behind, as its owner stooped to avoid the top of the window and peered in.
“Hallo! There you are. Good-morning! We’ve had such a gallop. Where’s Isabel? Hallo, sailor, how are you?”
“My dear child, don’t – pray don’t,” cried Aunt Anne. “You’ll be having some accident. Suppose that horse put his foot through the glass.”
“Good job for the glazier. Here Tom Beck, give Biddy some lumps of sugar.”
“Bless the child!” cried Aunt Anne. “Oh, here’s Isabel. Mr Beck, take the sugar basin, and back that dreadful animal out.”
The young sailor obeyed her to the letter, as Isabel entered to look on laughingly, while the other touched the skittish mare upon which she was seated, so that it might join in crunching up the sweet pieces of sugar with which they were fed in turn.
“Morning, parson,” said the new arrival with the deep-toned voice, to Tom Beck, as the young lieutenant went on sugaring the two steeds. “Thought you were off to sea again.”
“Did you?” said Beck, meeting his eyes with a lump of sugar in his hand, and with rather a stern, fixed look, from which the new arrival turned with a half laugh.
“Yes; you sailors are here to-day and gone to-morrow.”
“Exactly,” said Beck; “but this is to-day and not to-morrow.”
“Mr Beck – take care!”
It was Isabel who cried out in alarm, but her warning was too late, for the handsome mare which Dana Lydon rode had stretched out its neck and taken the lump of sugar the young lieutenant was holding; and as he turned sharply, it was at the sudden grip, for the greater