Chapter III: A Heavy Penalty

CAPTAIN TORRANCE made no mistake when he spoke of the great beauty of Kathleen Mountford's mother, and of its reproduction in the girl herself.

Mrs. Mountford was under twenty when she became a wife. She was a poor, but well-born Irish girl, named Kathleen Dillon, whom Mr. Mountford met when he was past forty, and regarded by all his friends as a confirmed bachelor. After a very short acquaintance the two were married, and he proved a most devoted and indulgent husband to the young wife who was less than half his own age.

Mrs. Mountford was proud of her conquest, and truly loved her husband, but she was of an impetuous and somewhat wilful disposition. She would often take advantage of Mr. Mountford's almost unlimited indulgence, and liked to show that she had only to ask and to have, or to have without the asking, whatever she set her mind upon, whether wisely or otherwise. In time, however, Mr. Mountford realised that he might be more truly kind in refusing than in granting some of his wife's demands, and that her real happiness would be best furthered by the exercise of his own sober judgment. Then followed a sort of struggle for mastery. Mrs. Mountford had been so long used to follow the bent of her own will, that she chafed under the slightest opposition. Sometimes, when her silence led Mr. Mountford to think that she agreed with him, she would take the first opportunity of setting his orders at defiance. If he showed displeasure, she would try him sorely by keeping out of his sight, or when in it, answering only by monosyllables and resolutely declining to share in anything he might propose.

Probably Mrs. Mountford punished herself quite as much as she did her husband. For, with her lively disposition and impetuosity of temper, such a state of things was no light trial. A few hours of it, and her lovely face would look like that of a troubled child. Her eyes would fill with tears, her lips would tremble, and she would look at her husband with an expression half penitent, half reproachful, as if mutely asking—

"How can you be so cruel, and treat my little faults so seriously? I am only a child compared with one who is so wise as you."

One pleading pitiful look from those wonderful eyes, and Mr. Mountford was certain to yield unconditionally. His arms would be extended, the young wife would fly to them, and as he clasped her to his breast she would sob out complaints of his unkindness.

"You know I never want to vex you, Kenneth," she would say. "But I am just a spoiled child, and you have helped to make me worse. You will have to be ever so patient with me, and you know you ought to be, because you are older, and so very wise. When you were so cross and looked grave, I felt perfectly crushed. Oh, Kenneth, how could you be so hard?"

Mr. Mountford might conscientiously feel that he had been anything but cross or harsh, considering that his wife had deliberately disobeyed commands which were wholly for her own good. He might be certain that he was the injured party, that he ought to insist on obedience to his will, especially when it involved no privation worth the name. But his intense love for his wife made him as wax in her hands, and while conscious that he had right on his side, he was full of remorse at the thought of having pained a creature so loving and beautiful, and so like a child in her wilfulness.

After such an outbreak there would be peace for a time. Home would be a little heaven, blessed too, at length, with music of a kind unknown in paradise, that of a baby voice.

The birth of Kathleen, which did not take place until three years after her parents' marriage, brought added sunshine to the home. Mr. Mountford had hoped for a son, but was more than satisfied with the baby daughter whose face was a reflection of her mother's. Husband and wife were more devoted to each other than ever, and during Kathleen's early days Mrs. Mountford was willing to live more quietly, and gave herself up without regret to the new sweet cares her child had brought her. But when the little one was three, and there was no further addition to her family, Mrs. Mountford began to resume her old life, and longed for pleasures outside the sphere of home. Not that she wearied of her little one, but her watchfulness over Kathleen only occupied a small portion of her time, and she was incapable, owing to differences in tastes and education, of entering into many of her husband's pursuits.

Mr. Mountford was doubly indulgent, on account of the difference in age between himself and his wife. He was older than his years, she younger than hers, and he felt it alike a privilege and a duty to give her every lawful pleasure natural to her youth, without considering himself in any way.

Mrs. Mountford was a graceful, but somewhat daring rider, and her husband had delighted to mount her in fitting fashion. The horse she had ridden for a couple of years met with an accident, became lame, and was condemned as unfit for her further use. A new one was bought, and she was full of admiration at its appearance, and eager to try if its other qualities equalled its looks.

"I shall try the new horse to-morrow morning, Kenneth," she said. "He is rightly named Prince, for he is a magnificent animal. How good you are to replace poor Rajah with such another royal quadruped! You must have been sadly extravagant though, for I am sure only a high price can have bought him."

Mrs. Mountford had risen from her seat, and was about to rush towards her husband in her usual impulsive fashion, and pay him for his gift by a shower of kisses. But a word stopped her on the way.

"Never mind the price, darling. If Prince suits you, he will be well worth all I have paid for him. But you must not ride him for a day or two. His temper must be well tested before I trust my treasure on his back."

A shade of annoyance passed over Mrs. Mountford's face, and she answered quickly, "Who so fit to test the horse's temper as myself? You say he has been used to carrying a lady."

"They say so from whom I bought him, dear; but horse-dealers have been known to conceal a fault which was not to be found out except on closer acquaintance. If you were less precious to me, I should be less careful of your safety, perhaps. Nay, I will not say that. I trust I should be incapable of exposing any human being to risk of life. I would rather peril my own."

"But, Kenneth, you know how I can ride. When I was a mere child, my father would let me mount any horse he had, no matter what its temper, and say, 'If Kitty cannot ride him, no one can.' I am not afraid either of Prince or for myself."

"But I am afraid for you, my darling. Think now, if anything went wrong for want of precaution on my part, what would become of our child and me? The light of my life would be extinguished."

Mr. Mountford looked at his wife with a world of honest love in his eyes, but his voice trembled at the bare thought of such a misfortune as his words suggested.

"No fear, Kenneth. I can manage the horse well enough, and I mean to try."

She answered with a glance of defiance, in no way moved by the tender words, because they clashed with the indulgence of her own whim.

"You shall try, dear, as soon as I am satisfied that you can do so with safety. And now come, darling, and pay me in your own sweet way for your new steed."

Mrs. Mountford, however, hung back, and with a little impatient toss of her head replied, "You know the old saying, Kenneth, 'There are only two bad paymasters, those who pay in advance, and those who never pay at all.' You must wait until Prince is mine, before you ask for his price from me."

"I do not know how he can be more yours, seeing that I have paid for him."

"He is yours no doubt, Kenneth. He will only be mine when I am permitted to use him."

"Which shall be as soon as—" began Mr. Mountford, but his wife did not wait for the rest of the sentence. Without even resuming her seat or holding further conversation with her husband, she swept from the room. If she had given one look behind her, the sight of Mr. Mountford's face might have moved her. It was so full of sorrow, and all for herself. He might well have been angry, for he had spent a large sum to give her pleasure, and if he had bidden her stay her hand before taking possession of Prince, it was only to insure her safety, and she well knew this.

There was bitter disappointment, too, for the loving husband. The pair had been much more united of late, and consequently, far happier. Mrs. Mountford's old wilfulness had apparently softened down, and she had manifested greater confidence in her husband's judgment, and willingness to fall in with it.

Even in this moment of renewed trouble Mr. Mountford was chiefly anxious for his wife's pleasure.

It was the eve of the great meet at Hollingsby, and, as on the morning just described, the event of the season to which every one was looking eagerly forward. Mr. Mountford knew the keen delight with which his wife anticipated this gathering, and he had ever been proud to see her the centre of admiring eyes, as they rode to Hollingsby together.

How disappointed she would be that the new purchase had come too late for her to use! What could be done in the short time that remained? Anything rather than she should not take her usual place.

A few moments' thought, and Mr. Mountford went to his wife's room to tell her of his plan. She was not there, or in the nursery, and one of the servants said, "Mrs. Mountford is out, sir. I don't think she's off the place, for she wasn't dressed for a proper walk."

Mr. Mountford instinctively turned towards the stables, and met his wife on the threshold.

"I have been looking at your new horse, Kenneth," she said. "He really improves on acquaintance, so far as appearance goes," she added, with marked emphasis on the last words.

Mr. Mountford noticed this, but made no comment.

"I have been thinking, dear, that you might ride my hunter to-morrow, and I will take the other horse, which is as good in everything but looks."

"I shall do nothing of the kind, Kenneth. I may be selfish, but I am not so selfish as to deprive you of your usual mount. I shall not accompany you to Hollingsby. Still, I must not forget my manners. Thank you for offering me your animal."

Mrs. Mountford dropped a demure little curtsey, then turned towards the house, without heeding whether her husband followed or not. She had given him a fresh sting, she knew, but she was not in the mood to care for having hurt his feelings. As to the husband, how could he help being displeased?

"She must take her own wilful way," he decided. "For once she shall punish herself; and I know it will be no light punishment for her to stay away from the meet to-morrow."

Accordingly, Mr. Mountford made no further allusion to the subject; and when the time came he left the house after an affectionate farewell, to which his wife responded, as if she were perfectly contented to see him set out alone. He did not notice the look of determination in her face, or the mischievous light in her eyes. He was only glad that there were neither tears nor reproaches.

A few minutes after his departure, the new horse, saddled and ready for a lady's use, was led round by the groom, and Mrs. Mountford appeared in riding-dress ready to mount it.

"I beg your pardon, madam," said the groom, touching his hat, "but are you sure there's no mistake about taking this horse out? I hope I know my place, but the master spoke so particular to me, and said the new horse was on no account to be ridden by anybody without his orders."

"I am not anybody, James. I suppose you know that Prince has been bought specially for my use, and naturally Mr. Mountford would not wish it to be used by any one else. We talked about the animal last night, and I told him I should try Prince this morning."

"Of course, madam, you know best, and if you and my master settled it, no doubt it will be all right. He cannot blame me."

"Why should you be blamed for doing as I tell you?" asked Mrs. Mountford sharply. "Have you ever been found fault with for obeying me?"

"No, madam. I would not have said a word, only the master was so very particular in giving the order. He seemed anxious to make sure of Prince's temper by more than hearsay. And besides, I never knew him change his mind about any order he had given without letting me know, until now, and I've lived fifteen years with him."

"When your master comes back you can ask him whether I told him or not, that I should ride Prince this morning, and see what he will say to you. Long service will hardly excuse your impertinence even in his eyes. When I join him at the appointed place, I will prepare him for your question."

"I've done it," said James, to a stable-boy who had listened open-mouthed to the conversation, wondering the while how anybody dared cross the mistress.

"She'll do you no harm. Everybody says that she just flies up for a minute, and then it's all over."

"I didn't mean that I was afraid of the mistress. I'm only afraid that, after all, I've done wrong in letting her have the new horse. I wish I'd locked the stable door and set my back against it, and shouted the master's orders straight at her, instead of doing as she told me. I should be almost glad if she were to get a bit of a tumble, only it would hurt him worse than her."

In the meanwhile Mrs. Mountford was taking a roundabout route to Hollingsby, so as to approach the meeting-place by another entrance, and not to arrive until after her husband. She had some qualms of conscience, but Prince was so easy to ride, and looked such a perfect animal, that the enjoyment was worth risking something for.

"Kenneth would feel angry at first, but—" and then a laugh followed the thought, as Mrs. Mountford looked back on the many occasions when the witchery of her ways, joined to his deep affection, had driven the cloud from his brow, and in place of fault-finding, she had met with loving words and caresses. At the worst he would only preach a little, and she was used to that. He was the dearest, best of men, only anxious about her, and graver of speech and ways, as was natural to one about twenty years her senior.

Mr. Mountford was answering inquiries about his wife, and listening to regrets on account of her absence, when a neighbour exclaimed, "Why, Mountford, you said your wife was not coming. She is here, and what an animal she is riding! A beauty to look at, but somehow I think I have seen him before, and—"

The speaker hesitated, and Mr. Mountford, hiding the surprise and indignation which agitated him, replied hastily, "She has changed her mind and followed me. I hardly thought she would have trusted herself on her new horse, and she refused to take mine, and let me ride another." In an anxious whisper he added, "I hope you know nothing against the animal. I had the best of characters with him, but he is untried, so far as my ownership goes."

"I really am not sure that I know the horse," was the somewhat hesitating reply. "In any case, if I ever saw him before, he had a lady on his back, and with Mrs. Mountford's perfect horsemanship you can hardly be anxious. She can ride anything."

Mr. Mountford thanked the speaker, and set out to join his wife. He was justly displeased, but displeasure was overborne by anxiety, and all he could think of was his wife's safety. She saw him coming, and, impelled by a spirit of mischief, evaded him again and again, showing off her horse and turning laughing glances at her friends, as if to invite them to share in her amusement.

It would be useless to tell the thoughts which occupied Mr. Mountford's mind. He felt powerless. He would not say a word which would betray the real state of the case. He would watch over his wilful darling, and hope for the best.

Later in the day that gay company saw a pitiful sight. A horse, with the bit between his teeth, and a lady on his back, was tearing at breakneck speed towards one of the most dangerous spots at which a leap could be made.

An agonised husband was following as best he might, with the sense that only a miracle could save his wife from death.

A little later still, and Mrs. Mountford lay a senseless heap on the other side of a barrier from which the most daring riders had thought it no shame to turn aside, and the horse was careering madly onward at his will.

Mrs. Mountford was not killed, but beside several lesser injuries, there was one to the spine, which rendered it improbable that she would ever walk again. And what seemed almost more terrible to herself, her eyes had come in contact with an outstretching bough, and all the skill that could be brought to bear upon them would neither preserve nor restore her sight.

Mr. Mountford's distress and self-reproach were sad to witness. It might have been thought that he had little cause to blame himself, seeing that he had striven to hedge his beautiful wife round from harm in every possible way. But true love makes, if it cannot find, excuses for the faults of its object, and is willing to share the blame, though itself guiltless, and to endure the suffering which is the result of them.

Whilst Mrs. Mountford's life was in danger her husband harassed himself with undeserved reproaches.

"Knowing her temperament as I did, I ought not to have left her. She is so young still, and what in the eyes of older people seems blamable, in hers was a girlish frolic to be laughed over and readily forgiven. I thought my orders to James were so positive that he would never dream of disobeying them, and that she would be unable to ride Prince, if she thought of doing so. But I forget that whilst I was head and master she was mistress, and that I had never brooked disobedience to her orders. If I had only stayed at home to watch over her, all would have been well. She might have been angry and pouted a little, but I could have borne these trifles, as I had often done before."

One thought brought an additional sting with it. Mr. Mountford had ascertained by what arguments his wife had induced the groom to bring out Prince for her use, and he knew that it was by an implied falsehood she had succeeded.