Ralph Clavering: or, We Must Try Before We Can Do. Kingston William Henry Giles
deserve it. I’ve ordered Sugar-plum round to the stable to get a feed of corn while we are at luncheon, and in an hour he’ll be ready again. Apple-blossom will be ready for you, and we’ll have a capital ride after all.”
Lilly said that she should like to ride, and soon afterwards luncheon was announced. The young people took it by themselves, for Mr Clavering was from home, and there were no guests in the house. Ralph tossed off a couple of glasses of sherry, scolding the butler for not quite filling them. “Good stuff after a gallop this cold weather,” he observed.
Lilly shook her head. “You could do very well without that,” she remarked.
“Oh, you girls know nothing,” he answered contemptuously. “I could drink twice as much, and not be the worse for it.”
In spite of Lilly’s entreaties he took one or two more glasses, evidently for the sake of teasing her. Lilly found it difficult not to show her vexation. Ralph was in one of his obstinate humours. He had never been restrained when a child, and every day he found the task of restraining his temper become harder and harder. He owned this to his cousin. “Try, Ralph, what you can do,” she answered. “Unless you try you cannot hope to succeed.”
“Impossible,” he answered petulantly. “It is absurd to suppose that I’m not to get into a rage every now and then. It is gentlemanly, it is manly.”
“Oh, Ralph, what nonsense!” exclaimed Lilly. “Which is the most manly, to guide your pony along the road, or let it run away with you, flinging out at everybody it meets, and throwing you at last?”
“That’s nothing to do with my getting into a rage if I please,” said Ralph. But he looked as if he fully comprehended the simile; and as Lilly saw that he did so, and had no wish to irritate him, she changed the subject. Soon after this the ponies were brought to the door. Lilly, who had got on her riding-skirt, sprang lightly on Apple-blossom, Ralph not even offering to assist her, and away the two cousins galloped down the avenue. Ralph’s good humour did not return for some time, in spite of all Lilly could do. At length her lively remarks and the fine fresh air gradually brought it back, and this encouraged her to talk on. They had a delightful and a very long ride. Sometimes they galloped over the level sward through a fine extensive forest in the neighbourhood, and through the deciduous trees, now destitute of leaves. There were many hollies and firs and other evergreens, which gave a cheerful aspect to the scene, and with the blue sky overhead they scarcely remembered that it was winter. Sometimes they got on a hard piece of road, and had a good trot for a couple of miles, and then they reached some fine open downs, when, giving their little steeds the rein, away they galloped as hard as hoof could be laid to the ground, with the fresh pure air circulating freely round them. Now they had to descend and to pass along lanes full of ruts and holes, where they had carefully to pick their way, and then they crossed some ploughed fields till they once more reached a piece of turf by the road-side. On the turf, Ralph was again able to make his pony go at the pace which best suited his taste, Lilly easily keeping up with him. Once more in the forest, they galloped as fast as ever along its open glades.
“This is first-rate,” cried Ralph. “There never was a finer day for riding.”
“Oh, indeed it is,” responded Lilly. “This is a beautiful world, and I always think each season as it comes round the most delightful.”
“I don’t trouble my head about that,” said Ralph, giving his pony a switch. “I know when it is a fine day, and I enjoy it.”
Lilly had discovered that Ralph always carefully fenced off from any subject which he thought might lead to serious reflection. She waited her time to speak to him, hoping it might come. Soon after this they again reached the high road. Several times Ralph’s pony, which had gone through a good deal of work that morning, attempted to stop, and when Ralph urged him on he stumbled.
“Sugar-plum must be tired,” observed Lilly.
“Let us walk our ponies home.”
“No, I hate everything slow,” cried Ralph, hastening on the pony. “If the beast can’t go he won’t suit me, and so he shall soon find who is master.”
Lilly again entreated him to pull up, but he would not listen to her. At some distance before them appeared a figure in a red cloak. Lilly perceived that it was an old gipsy woman with a child at her back. In a copse by the road-side there was a cart with a tent and a fire before it, from which ascended into the clear calm air a thin column of smoke. The old woman was making her way towards the camp, not hearing apparently the tramp of the pony’s hoofs.
“Take care, take care, Ralph,” cried Lilly; “you will ride over that poor old woman if you gallop on.”
“I don’t care if I do,” said Ralph, angry at being spoken to. “She’s only a wretched old gipsy woman.”
“A fellow-creature,” answered Lilly. “Oh, Ralph, take care.”
Ralph galloped on till his pony was close up to the old woman, at a spot where the ground was rough, and there was a somewhat steep descent. He could scarcely have intended actually to ride over the old woman. Just then she heard the pony’s hoofs strike the ground close behind her. She started on one side, and the pony dashed on, shying as he did so. The animal’s foot at that moment struck against a piece of hard clay, and already almost exhausted, down he came, throwing his rider to a considerable distance over his head on the ground. Lilly slipped off her well-trained little pony, which stood perfectly still while she ran to her cousin’s assistance. Ralph’s countenance was pale as death. He groaned heavily, and was evidently much hurt. His pony, as soon as it got up, trotted off to a distance to avoid the beating its young master might have bestowed.
Lilly cried out to the old gipsy woman, who, although she could not hear, saw and understood her gestures. The old woman stood at a distance gazing at the scene, and then slowly and unwillingly came back. Lilly, as she watched Ralph’s countenance, became more and more alarmed. She endeavoured, by every gesture she could make use of, to intimate that she wanted assistance. The old woman knelt down by the lad, and putting her hand on his brow, and then on his arm, gave a grunt, and rising with more agility than could have been expected, hobbled off towards the gipsy camp. Lilly would have run on herself for help, but she dared not leave her cousin on the ground, lest a carriage coming rapidly down the hill might run over him. She anxiously watched the old woman as she approached the tent. No one came forth, and she feared that all the gipsies might be absent, and that no help could be procured. She was herself, in the meantime, not idle. She placed Ralph’s head on her lap, loosened his neckerchief, and chafed his temples, but her efforts were vain; he still remained unconscious, and she fancied that he was growing rather worse than better. Lilly knew that she could not lift him, though she longed to be able to carry him even as far as the green bank by the road-side. She was in despair, and could not refrain from bursting into tears. At last a thin dark man, with long elf-locks, accompanied by two boys as wild-looking as he was, and still more ragged, came running up.
“Ah! my pretty lady, don’t take on; your brother has still life in him,” he exclaimed when he saw Ralph. “Here, you Seth, lift up the young master’s legs; and Tim, you be off after his pony. Be quick, like lightning, in a hurry.”
Without more ado he raised Ralph from the ground, and bore him in his arms towards the tent. Lilly followed, leading Apple-blossom. They soon reached the gipsy tents. In one of them was a heap of straw. Ralph was placed on it. Lilly saw that the sooner medical aid could be procured the better. Still she did not like to leave him in charge of such doubtful characters as the gipsies.
“You will take care of him, and I will hurry home to bring assistance,” she said to the gipsy.
“Whatever you like, pretty mistress, for your sake we will do,” was the gallant answer.
Lilly mounted Apple-blossom, and galloped on to the Hall. Great was the consternation her news caused. Mrs Clavering was so ill that no one ventured to tell her of the accident. Mr Clavering was away from home, and the butler and housekeeper were out on a visit. Lilly found that she must decide what was to be done. She ordered the carriage to be got ready, and then she sat down and wrote a note to the doctor, which she sent off by a groom. By that time the carriage