Chapter VI: A Rejected Trophy

IN a few seconds after Mr. Jem Capes had called attention to his presence by means of the knocker, a neat kitchen-maid opened the door of the servants' entrance to the Hall. The sight of a trim, female figure pleased Captain Torrance's messenger. He was young, and, according to his own notions, good-looking, and with plenty to say for himself, therefore well calculated to make a favourable impression. He glanced admiringly at the girl, and, with a full consciousness of the absurdity of the remark, said—

"You are the lady's-maid here, I believe, miss?"

"You are mistaken," was the quiet reply. "I am a kitchen-maid; but if you want to see Cameron, who is Miss Mountford's own maid, I will let her know."

"I have no desire to see any face but yours, and I'm sure I couldn't find a prettier, if I had my pick of all in the house. I mean, of course, amongst them that are in service here. It isn't for such as me to pass an opinion about the ladies."

The girl heard this flattering speech with an unmoved countenance, and, much to Mr. Jem Capes's surprise, ignored it entirely when next addressing him.

"Please to tell me what you want, or whether you wish to see any of the men-servants. There are none of them in the house just now," she said.

The groom's face fell at the ill-success of his insinuating looks and compliments, and he answered, rather sharply, "I want nothing with servants—men or girls. I have had enough of one outside, the coachman, I think, who is about as sweet as a sloe or a crab-apple."

"You are speaking about my father. What is your message, please?"

Probably Jem Capes never felt so angry and humiliated as he did at this moment, when, for the second time, Patty Mountain, ignoring alike his compliments to herself and his impertinent allusion to her father, asked his business.

"My message is for your mistress, young woman," he replied in a sullen tone. "The gentleman who sent this note and something along with it, said I must give it into her own hand. What I have to ask you is, can I see the lady?"

"I cannot tell, but I will find out;" then, after civilly requesting the groom to take a seat, Patty disappeared, in order that the inquiry might be made.

Capes was not sorry when he saw another servant in place of Patty, but the new-comer proved to be older and still more staid-looking.

"You have brought something for my mistress, I believe," she said. "Miss Mountford cannot see you, but if you will send the note by me, she will answer it now, or forward a reply, if a message will not be sufficient."

"I was told to give it and the other article into her own hand; but if so be she will not see me, of course you shall take the note, and I'll wait here," said Capes, resuming his seat. "I dare say the lady will see me, though, when she has read the letter."

Capes waited what he thought an unconscionable time, but at length the messenger reappeared.

"This is the answer," she said, "and I am to tell you to please take back the other article. The note will explain."

"You don't mean that I'm to take the—the—what Captain Torrance sent—back with me. You must have made a mistake. You'd better ask again," replied Capes, unable to believe his ears.

"There's no mistake. I have told you exactly what my mistress, Miss Mountford, said."

"But she has not seen the captain's present."

"I know that. I can only tell you what message she sent. She made it very plain to me."

Capes almost snatched the note from the bearer's hand, put on his hat, and without another word left the house. He closed the door behind him with a bang, and once outside, gave further vent to his feelings in words which shall not be repeated in full, though part of them may.

"To think of me being so done out of everything. The captain will be so angry he'll be fit to strike me, though he'd better not. I've done my best and been beaten all round, by coachman and his girl, the waiting-maid and the mistress. But what aggravates me beyond anything is, that the finest brush of the day should have been in a way flung back in the captain's face. Such a compliment as it was for him to send it, when the lady was not present at all. I reckoned on a sovereign from her at the very least."

Capes's anticipations of what his master would say were more than realized, for the captain broke into a perfect tempest of anger after reading Miss Mountford's note, and, very unreasonably, blamed the messenger for what was no fault of his.

Captain Jack had thought to please Kathleen by sending her the fox's brush with the following note:—

"DEAR MISS MOUNTFORD,"
"Every one who caught a glimpse of you this morning
was filled with regret at the thought that you were
prohibited from joining in the real pleasure of the
day. I think I may venture to say that no one felt
this more than myself. To be 'so near, and yet so far,'
in touch with, and not permitted to share in what had
brought so many of your friends together, must have
been a trial indeed. I know what it was for me even
to witness your disappointment. I am venturing to send
you the finest trophy of to-day's sport—the brush of a
magnificent animal. I trust you will honour it with a
glance, then send it back by my man, that I may have it
fittingly mounted for you, as a souvenir of the first
meet of the Hollingsby Hunt this season."
"I am, dear Miss Mountford,"
"With much respect, faithfully yours,"
"JOHN TORRANCE."
"Monk's How, November 4."

Kathleen's reply was simple and straightforward.

"DEAR CAPTAIN TORRANCE,"
"I am most grateful for your kind thought of me,
and for your intended present. I know that many girls
would greatly value such a trophy, but in my case it
would cause only pain to possess it. Believe me, you
are mistaken in supposing that I shall ever feel
disappointment in connection with the Hollingsby Hunt.
I was pleased to see such a gathering for once, and I
greatly admired it as a picture. Beyond this, it can
never have the smallest charm for me, and I think it
more than probable that I shall never again be present
at a meet."
"With renewed thanks for the compliment you have
paid me, and best wishes,"
"I am, sincerely yours,"
"KATHLEEN DILLON MOUNTFORD."

"Hollingsby Hall, November."

A second perusal of this note left Captain Torrance in a better temper.

"I see it all now," he thought. "I was a fool to send such a present to her. She must know the story of her mother's mishap on the field, whether she knows how it came about or not. Naturally, she hates the thought of a woman actually joining in the hunt, though, this morning, I could have been certain that she was pouting because she could not show off on that handsome mare of hers."

"At any rate, she must feel that I have paid her the greatest compliment a hunter could, whether she takes his offering or leaves it. I must give Capes the tip I promised him, after all. He will be disappointed at not receiving one from the fair hands of Miss Mountford."

Captain Jack laughed with keen enjoyment at the idea of his messenger's indignation at a double loss.

Half an hour later Capes was mollified by receiving the promised douceur from his master, together with a few conciliatory words.

"You did your best, no doubt. It was really I who made a mistake in offering such a present to a lady who takes no interest in the hunt. I shall send you with it to Mr. Stapleton, and ask him to present it to his wife. Only mind, Jem. Not a word must be breathed about Miss Mountford's having had the first chance of it."

"Hope I know better than that, sir," replied Capes, touching his hat and looking sagaciously at his master.

Captain Jack was fully convinced that Kathleen would not allude to the incident, and that Mrs. Ellicott and her daughter would be far from wishing that any one should know of even this slight correspondence between Miss Mountford and himself. So in a few minutes Capes was on his way to Oakwood with a note to Mr. Stapleton, in which the captain begged that gentleman to present the brush to his wife, as the most graceful and the bravest lady-rider on the field that day. And, with the offering, he asked Mr. Stapleton to express the hope, on his behalf, that she would for many years grace the Hollingsby Hunt with her presence.

Captain Torrance could be sufficiently punctilious on occasion, and with all his faults there was a dash of chivalry in his composition. Besides, he had the memory of the faithful heart which was all his own during that short married life of his. In every young wife and mother he seemed to see a reflection of his own lost Adela, and pretty Mrs. Stapleton, with her little daughter, called forth all the best traits in Captain Jack's character. Hence the respectful message sent through the husband, and the offering which gave all the pleasure at Oakwood which it had failed to give at Hollingsby Hall.

Capes returned to his master in high glee with a note of thanks, and with his own pocket the heavier by the sovereign which he had given up as lost.

Both master and man were well pleased. The former was rejoicing that Kathleen's rejection of his offering had opened for him a new way of approach to her, and Capes, as he fingered his douceurs in gold and silver, said to himself, "Better luck next time. If I am not mistaken, the master is not real sorry for what has happened, and he's not the one to be daunted by a slap in the face from a girl. He'll find a way of paying her out some day."

In Kathleen's present mood, she was hardly likely to make a secret to her own people of Captain Torrance's letter. She was too full of self-reproach, and a deep sense of the goodness of those whose only desire had been to keep from her a story that must pain her if told, to allow of concealment on her part now.

So Mrs. Ellicott, Geraldine, and Aylmer Matheson all saw Captain Jack's letter, and the last-named, not being present at the time, was told exactly what answer Kathleen had sent. All were hopeful that the slight intercourse between Monk's How and Hollingsby Hall would become slighter still, and perhaps die away altogether.

Kathleen continued to be very gentle in manner for some time after, and there was a look of thoughtfulness, occasionally of sadness, on her face not usually seen there.

Aylmer Matheson, who was ever most careful not to take advantage of his position as guardian, in order to force himself into his ward's presence with unreasonable frequency, was cheered by the gentle welcome which Kathleen gave him. One evening she called him "Aylmer," for the first time since his father's death, which had made him her sole male trustee. His quick glance of pleasure, as he replied, brought a bright colour to Kathleen's cheek, and this in turn made the young man's heart beat rapidly.

On his homeward way Aylmer began again to picture happy possibilities. He asked himself a thousand questions about Kathleen's changed manner, and wondered if her alternate shyness, coldness, and frankness towards him might, after all, be favourably interpreted.

"A proud girl like Kathleen would never allow any man to think that he was preferred above others," thought he. "One has heard of cases where girls have treated those they loved best almost with scorn, and kept them at the greatest possible distance, lest they should betray their feelings. But this has been when they imagined their affection was not reciprocated. I have kept aloof from Kathleen, for I could not bear that any human being should accuse me of taking advantage of my position. No one shall say that I have striven to entrap my ward into an engagement during her minority. She must be absolutely her own mistress before I make any open attempt to gain her affections, though she can hardly be ignorant of my love for her."

After coming to this conclusion, Aylmer Matheson began to harass himself with doubts as to the wisdom of this mental decision. There was another side to be considered. If he held himself aloof, others would not, and Kathleen might be wooed and won in the meanwhile by some one of whom no true friend of hers could approve. The "some one" always took the face and form of Captain Torrance in Aylmer's cogitations, and whilst he would have been generous enough to resign his own pretensions in favour of a good man to whom Kathleen had given her heart, he was by no means inclined to yield them in favour of Captain Jack.

"I must think of Kathleen's welfare, rather than of my own pride. Surely my character is sufficiently well-known by all for whose good opinion I need care, to prevent me from being misjudged. No one could well accuse me of mercenary motives, since I have abundant means of my own, and Westhill is unencumbered. I would not touch a penny of Kathleen's money. All should remain entirely at her own disposal after marriage, as it will be when she comes of age a year hence. Am I to allow a profligate spendthrift, whose past career will not bear looking into, to win this girl, who is beautiful, innocent, and rich, because I am afraid of what the world might say if I strove to gain her affections whilst she is still my ward?"

The conflict was a severe one, and all through the small hours Aylmer Matheson debated with himself as to the course he ought to adopt. He knew one thing of which the dwellers in the little world around him were in ignorance, and so was Kathleen herself.

When Mr. Mountford had associated him with his father and Mrs. Ellicott in the guardianship of Kathleen, it will be remembered that a conversation took place between the elders as to the possibility of a marriage between Aylmer and his young ward in the distant future. Then Mr. Matheson confidently asserted that to his son, their positions as guardian and ward would prove a barrier to any nearer union, as Aylmer would put aside every thought of self in relation to Kathleen.

Mr. Mountford then expressed his opinion of the young man's worth in the strongest terms, but shortly before his death he said a few words to Aylmer himself.

After again commending Kathleen to his care, he added, "Remember, Aylmer. If when my child is grown-up, you and she desire to enter into the sweetest and closest of all relationships, you must recall our conversation of to-day, and feel assured that had her father been living, his consent and blessing would have been given, and his dearest wish fulfilled by such a union. But I know you, my dear boy, and that you will place Kathleen's happiness before your own. I desire, therefore, that unless you have given her your whole heart and won hers in return, you will never allude to this conversation. Afterwards, if all go well, Kathleen will be the happier for knowing that you would have been the man of all others to whom I would have given my only child, had I lived to see her married."

The memory of these words was most cheering to Aylmer, but they could not be used to further his suit. Indeed, he would have scorned to owe its acceptance to any influence, save that of a whole-hearted love on the part of Kathleen.

Aylmer finally decided to watch and wait for a while, and he was rewarded for his patience by a little season of greater happiness than he had known for a long time past.

It was hardly likely that the effect produced on Kathleen by hearing her mother's story would pass away all at once. The girl seemed to have made a great effort at self-conquest, and, since that memorable evening, had caused Mrs. Ellicott no heart-aches by her fits of wilfulness.

Aylmer spent more time at the Hall, and no face beamed a brighter welcome or gave him a sweeter smile of greeting than did Kathleen's.

Geraldine rejoiced—as only an unselfish nature can rejoice—at the new state of things. She had divined Aylmer's secret, and succeeded in hiding her own.

As to Captain Torrance, nobody seemed to know what had become of him, except that he had left home two days after the meet, and taken his boy with him. Everybody wondered at this, for it was seldom indeed that Captain Jack absented himself from Hollingsby during the hunting-season.

Kathleen never mentioned him, which was, perhaps, a less favourable sign for Aylmer than he took it to be. Aylmer himself might well be forgiven for wishing that the captain's absence would be indefinitely prolonged, though there were a good many others who hoped that he would soon return with a replenished purse.

So the time passed until the first week in and Aylmer spent the interval in a fool's paradise from which he was soon to be rudely ejected.