Chapter XV: The Squire's Accident

"GRANDFATHER, I want to ask you a favour."

Damaris and Sir Mark were breakfasting together. It was a lovely morning, the beginning of April. It was hardly an opportune moment, for Sir Mark was always short-tempered when the hunting ceased, and he had taken his last run the day before.

"What is it? More money?" he asked shortly.

"Oh dear no! It is only to ask you if you will mind my having a friend to stay with me. I have heard from her, and she has been ill of the flu and has been ordered to the country to have a thorough rest."

"We don't want the flu brought here."

"Oh, she is well from that. I say a friend, but she's really a cousin; I have not known her for very long."

"Now, look here, Damaris! What did I tell you about your father's relations? I'll have nothing to do with them. Most certainly I shall not have them here as our guests. I am surprised that you should ask such a thing!"

"But why should you condemn her when you haven't seen her? I know you would like her. She is clever, and nice in every way."

Sir Mark uttered an expletive which sounded like an oath; he thumped his fist down on the table, and grew almost purple in the face. Damaris, remembering her aunt's warnings that she was not to let him become excited, was filled with contrition.

"I'm sorry, grandfather. I hoped you would let me have her. You will not mind, of course, if I get her lodgings in the village?"

"She shall not enter this house; you quite understand? I'm master here, and I shall see that I'm obeyed."

"I always mean to obey you," Damaris said gently.

Sudden silence fell between them. Sir Mark's anger faded away as quickly as it came, but Damaris did not like to see the pinched grey shadows that stole over his face. He occupied himself with his newspaper and letters for the rest of the meal. When it was over, Damaris went swiftly round to him.

"Please forgive me," she said sweetly.

"All right; all right; but remember you are a Murray now, not a Hartbrook. I would you did not bear the name. It is loathsome to me."

Damaris checked the sigh that rose within her. She could never get accustomed to hear her father's name slighted, and was keenly disappointed that she might not ask Nellie to the house. Miss Hardacre had written to her and told her how unwell Nellie was, and how she could not be persuaded to go away from town.

Later in the day, she met Stuart when she was out with the dogs on the common. She did not often see him in the week. He and Barbara and Lord Ennismore were all working at the model village, and pushing the building on with all their might and main. But every Sunday Stuart came over to lunch. The Squire looked for him. He sat with him after lunch in the smoking-room till tea-time, then he attached himself to Damaris. They went to evening church together, and sometimes took a stroll before it.

And Damaris began to look for his coming. He might say he did not want to be her friend, but he proved a very sympathetic listener, and a good comrade in the best sense of the word.

Now, as he rode across the common, he pulled up at the sight of her.

"Anything wrong?" he inquired, with a quick glance at her face.

Damaris smiled, but her misty eyes betrayed her.

"Nothing that matters," she said. "I only wanted something, and made grandfather angry by asking for it. Oh, I can tell you in a moment. A cousin of mine is ill and has nowhere to rest. She is not well off, and I thought of the empty rooms at the Hall, so comfortable and sunny, and longed to have her. Of course, as she is a Hartbrook, it is impossible. I shall try to get her lodgings in the village—only she is very proud—and she will persist in paying, and I did not want her to have any expenses."

"If I see a way out of your difficulty, I'll drop you a line," said Stuart cheerfully.

Damaris laughed. His bright face always did her good.

"I don't think even you can help me in this case," she said.

"Well, now, will you do something for me? Get the Squire to ask young Lancaster over to dine one night. He finds his evenings dull, and the Squire always likes young chaps about him."

"I'll ask him, of course," said Damaris promptly. "I haven't met him yet. What is he like? And is he getting on at Fallerton? Does he like it there?"

"He would if my dear aunt left him more alone. She bullies him a bit, and throws me at his head till he hates the sight of me."

"Oh, I know. That is how I feel when grandfather quotes Aunt Barbara. And yet I really love her."

They parted, and Damaris pursued her way.

The next day came a note from Mrs. Bonnycott asking Damaris for Nellie's address.

"I want help badly for a bazaar that I'm responsible for, and, from what I hear, your cousin would just suit me. I am going to ask her on a visit. I know I shall end my days by being in bondage to a tyrannical companion. I feel I want somebody to talk to when things go wrong. I really meant to have you, only you disappeared so quickly and then turned up in another guise."

Damaris was astonished at Stuart's promptness in befriending her, but was very doubtful whether Nellie would accept such an invitation.

However, in a few days' time, Nellie wrote to her saying that Mrs. Bonnycott had written her such an exceedingly kind letter that she could not refuse.

"Of course, she does it for your sake," wrote Nellie. "Does she expect to see another Damaris walk in? I fear she will be grievously disappointed if she does. But I have accepted. I gather that I shall be on one side of a big common, and you the other. Shall we meet in the middle of it one day?"

Damaris felt intensely relieved when she read this letter. Then she cheerfully tackled her grandfather about Geoffrey Lancaster.

Sir Mark acquiesced at once.

"Yes; ask him over any evening. I have a great respect for his father, and the lad is all right—only kicked against making up drugs and sawing bones and all the rest of it. Small blame to him!"

So young Geoffrey Lancaster came to the Hall, and, as was only natural, fell violently in love with Damaris. She was amused with his open admiration at first, then she got uneasy and annoyed. Whenever he had leisure, he would appear at the Hall. Damaris took him to task one day.

"Do you know this is the third time you have been over this week? Do you find you can leave your work so often?"

"But I had to come over here to have my horse shod."

"You have a smithy at Fallerton."

"Old Luke is dotty, and his son is laid up. Don't you want to see me?"

"I don't want you to fail Mrs. Bonnycott."

"I am sure Maitland used to be over here pretty often. He and Lady Ennismore were always together. I used to think they would make a match of it."

"It's getting such a busy time on the farms," said Damaris.

"Yes; I'm up and out at five every morning. And I can tell you I do all the work and enjoy it. After London, it's heaven to be able to breathe again. Will you come for a ride? Sir Mark wants you to be at home in the saddle, doesn't he? I've ridden over. Let me tell them to bring your horse round, and we'll go over the common."

Damaris yielded. She had been out with her grandfather several times, and he had been very pleased with her progress. She found she was not nervous, and as her horse was quiet and steady she felt confidence in him.

Now, when she was mounted and going easily down the drive with Geoffrey, she realised how much she enjoyed it.

"I never saw any beginner sit a horse so easily as you do," Geoffrey exclaimed.

"Ah, wait till he breaks into trot!" she said, laughing. "But I want to learn to ride. I shall never hunt, but I want to ride out with my grandfather."

They chatted together about various things, and Stuart's name was mentioned.

Geoffrey's eyes glowed when he spoke of him.

"I owe him a debt I can never pay. There isn't a man in a thousand who would have taken hold of me as he did. He never talks or jaws at a fellow. He just acts. I can tell you I was pretty well at the end of everything, in town. I loathed my work, I loathed myself, and then he came along, bucked me up, put life and hope into me again, and never rested till he had handed his own job over to me—the very billet that I'm fitted for, I consider. Certainly the one I liked above all else!"

"He's always doing those kind of things Aunt Barbara says," said Damaris. "I know he has befriended me many a time."

"Who wouldn't?" exclaimed Geoffrey. "That is no feather in his cap, but with me it was different."

They were riding past a clump of blackthorns all in full blossom, and Damaris reined up her horse.

"Oh!" she cried. "I must have a branch of this lovely stuff."

"Look after your reins," Geoffrey called out.

In reaching up, she had dropped her reins. Her horse swerved; then, before she could reach them, he had broken away in a canter, and the next moment Damaris was thrown. Happily she fell on soft turf, but Geoffrey had an awful moment before he was able to reach her.

"Damaris! Damaris!" he cried. "Are you hurt? Oh, speak!"

For a moment, Damaris seemed stunned. Then she recovered herself and sat up. She smiled up into his anxious face.

"I have hurt my arm—but no bones broken. I assure you I am all right. Can you catch Firefly? He is munching the grass over there."

"Oh, blow Firefly! It is you I am thinking about."

He had dismounted, and was helping her to rise as he spoke.

"There, you see, I'm all right. I've only twisted or sprained my right wrist. Do catch Firefly. And I'll mount him again at once and go home. It was all my own fault. I'm not accustomed to riding, you know."

Geoffrey soon captured Firefly, and assisted Damaris to mount him. Then they rode home very slowly, and Geoffrey astounded Damaris by proposing to her on the way.

"I know you haven't seen much of me, but a day was long enough to show me where my heart was. And your accident has precipitated matters. I feel I must have the right to take care of you. It was horrible when I saw you pitch over your horse's head. I know my prospects are not much; but there are good agencies going and I daresay the Squire will help me, unless he kicks me out of the house for daring to speak to you. If I haven't money to offer you—I have a heart, and I'll work to get a home, if only you give me the least bit of hope."

"I am afraid I can't do that, Mr. Lancaster," said Damaris gravely but sweetly. "I am so sorry you have broken our friendship by speaking so. I could never be to you anything more than a friend. I am quite sure of this, and hope you'll understand. And I thank you very much. I'm sorry if my answer will disappoint you."

"Disappoint me!" cried poor Geoffrey. "It has cast me from heaven into hell. I've been too rash—I had better have waited."

"I'm afraid if you had waited twenty years, my answer would have been the same."

Geoffrey gave a groan.

"Is somebody else in the way? Maitland? Oh, forgive me—I don't know what I'm saying!"

Damaris's cheeks burned. Her arm was paining her, and she longed to be alone.

They rode back to the Hall in silence. Geoffrey was too dejected to say a word. He left her at the door. Damaris tried to say something, but could not. She had only known him such a short time that he had not only surprised her, but annoyed her by his sudden proposal.

"He's a mere boy; and how dare he insinuate—" she murmured to herself. "When I think of the two of them, and the difference in age and character and personality, it makes me furious!"

She wondered if she had inadvertently encouraged him by her friendly intercourse with him. She had liked him and felt sorry for him. He had no mother and rather a dreary home; his father was bitterly disappointed over his failure to pass his medical exams., and hardly took any notice of him.

Geoffrey almost lived at Fallerton Manor. Mrs. Bonnycott insisted upon a good deal of supervision of her property, and did not yet believe in his capability to act alone. Stuart was the only one who believed in him; but Stuart was much engrossed with the model village, and was away the greater part of the week.

In two days' time, Damaris met her cousin, and they were genuinely pleased to see each other again. Nellie looked white and very thin, but she told Damaris that she found the Fallerton air life-giving. She had made a good impression upon Mrs. Bonnycott, who said to Damaris directly she saw her—

"She'll do, my dear! A real sensible girl! Wears low heels and looks you in the face when she speaks to you!"

When the girls were alone, Nellie said—

"She's an old dear. I always do like old ladies, as you know. And, of course, I'm in the lap of luxury, which is foreign to my Spartan nature, but is pleasing, all the same."

"And what do you think of Mr. Maitland—'The idle rich young man who plays at farming'? Do you remember how you talked in London about men and their purposeless lives?"

"He plays divinely!" said Nellie with a little smile. "He came in late last night and played in the dark. Mrs. Bonnycott let me prop the library door open to listen. We were sitting there together, and he went into the music-room. I quite enjoyed it. Well, he isn't asleep! and is awfully keen on his village. The other young man puzzles me. The first day I came, he was a jolly happy boy. Two days ago, he returned from a ride, and has been in the depths of melancholy ever since."

Damaris said nothing, but Nellie's sharp eyes detected a slight confusion in her manner.

"He told me he often sees you," Nellie went on. "I hope you don't keep him away from his work. Is his melancholy due to the hurt you received in your arm the other day?"

"Oh, that's nothing. I've only strained the muscles. No, if you must know, Nellie, he wants me to be more than friends with him, and I cannot. He is taking it hardly, but I really gave him no encouragement."

"The ridiculous youth! How angry your grandfather would be! Is he ambitious for you, Damaris? This boy hasn't a penny to bless himself with. I'm glad to know the reason of his sulkiness. I'll try to brighten him up. How do you get on with your grandfather?"

"Very well, on the whole." A little flush came into her cheeks. "I had better tell you, Nellie. He still hates my father's family. He wouldn't let me ask you to the house. He won't even let anyone call me Miss Hartbrook, he hates the name so! I am 'Miss Damaris' to the servants. It is quite a mania with him. This is one of my trials."

Nellie looked grave.

"Does he know I have come to stay here?"

"Oh, yes; I mentioned it. But you will understand if I can't ask you to the house."

"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad you told me. How antiquated and foolish these old country squires are. Well—we can meet on the common, can't we? And I mean to be busy; Mrs. Bonnycott will keep me at it, I know."

They spent a couple of happy hours together, and agreed to meet again before long.

A week later, Sir Mark met with an accident out riding. Unlike Damaris, he did not escape so easily. He was trying a new horse, and insisted on taking it out himself. Damaris stood on the terrace, and felt a little uneasy as she watched it kicking and plunging.

"I don't believe Aunt Barbara would let you go off alone," she said, trying to speak lightly. "Won't you take Dawkins with you?"

"I am not in my dotage yet," was the testy reply; "when I can't manage a horse, I'll take to my bed. Run indoors, child, and don't worry me. He's a hard-mouthed brute, I'm afraid."

He applied his spurs lightly, and his horse plunged down the drive at a reckless pace.

Damaris felt uneasy, and Dawkins, the old groom, said doubtfully—

"The master has got a handful there; but if any one will tame him, he will."

Damaris went indoors, but she could settle to nothing.

"It's so bad for his heart," she said to herself. "I wish he would come back."

But the afternoon wore away, and he did not return.

At tea-time she became so anxious, that she sent off Dawkins in search of him.

When seven o'clock arrived and he did not return, she was convinced that some accident had happened. And then she heard the sound of hoofs outside on the gravel, and, running to the door, found Dawkins holding a note out to the old butler.

"Have you found the Squire?" she asked Dawkins sharply.

"Yes, miss. He's had a spill—but nothing very serious. He's laid up at Fallerton Manor, and the doctor has been and says he must stay there for the night. The horse is there too."

"I must go to him at once!"

But when she opened Mrs. Bonnycott's note, she found she was not wanted.

"MY DEAR DAMARIS,—I have your grandfather safe and sound in bed in my best spare room. No bones broken; but he had a tumble and a heart attack. Your cousin found him and brought him here. Dr. Lancaster has been, and says he can return home to-morrow, so don't be anxious. He sends you his love, and tells you there is no need to worry or come over. He will be home, if all is well, to-morrow morning. No time for more. We will take good care of him.

"Yours affectionately,

"KITTY BONNYCOTT."

Damaris had dinner alone, and spent a miserable evening. She wondered if her aunt would have been content to stay at home, or whether she would not have gone to her father at once.

She had a sleepless night, and was disappointed to hear nothing by the postman.

But at ten o'clock, just as she had finished her breakfast, Stuart walked in.