When they came near the front of the house, Rachel took man and dog in through the open window of her own sitting-room, and hastened to provide him with bandages and splints, leaving Bessie to reassure Mrs. Curtis that no human limbs were broken, and that no one was even wet to the skin; nay, Bessie had even the tact to spare Mrs. Curtis the romantic colouring that delighted herself. Grace had followed Rachel to assist at the operation, and was equally delighted with its neatness and tenderness, as well as equally convinced of the necessity of asking the performer first to wash his hands and then to eat his breakfast, both which kind proposals he accepted with diffident gratitude, first casting a glance around the apartment, which, though he said nothing, conveyed that he was profoundly struck with the tokens of occupation that it contained. The breakfast was, in the first place, a very hungry one; indeed, Bessie had been too ravenous to wait till the surgery was over, and was already arrived at her second egg when the others appeared, and the story had again to be told to the mother, and her warm thanks given. Mrs. Curtis did not like strangers when they were only names, but let her be brought in contact, and her good nature made her friendly at once, above all in her own house. The stranger was so grave and quiet too, not at all presuming, and making light of his services, but only afraid he had been trespassing on the Homestead grounds. These incursions of the season visitors were so great a grievance at the Homestead that Mrs. Curtis highly approved his forbearance, whilst she was pleased with his tribute to her scenery, which he evidently admired with an artistic eye. Love of sketching had brought him to Avonmouth, and before he took leave, Mrs. Curtis had accorded him that permission to draw in her little peninsula for which many a young lady below was sighing and murmuring. He thanked her with a melancholy look, confessing that in his circumstances his pencil was his toy and his solace.
'Once again, that landscape painter!' exclaimed Bessie, with uplifted hands, as soon as both he and Mrs. Curtis were out of earshot, 'an adventure at last.'
'Not at all,' said Rachel, gravely; 'there was neither alarm nor danger.'
'Precisely; the romance minus the disagreeables. Only the sea monster wanting. Young Alcides, and rock--you stood there for sacrifice, I was the weeping Dardanian dames.'
Even Grace could not help laughing at the mischief of the one, and the earnest seriousness of the other.
'Now, Bessie, I entreat that you will not make a ridiculous story of a most simple affair,' implored Rachel.
'I promise not to make one, but don't blame me if it makes itself.'
'It cannot, unless some of us tell the story.'
'What, do you expect the young Alcides to hold his tongue? That is more than can be hoped of mortal landscape painter.'
'I wish you would not call him so. I am sure he is a clergyman.'
'Landscape painter, I would lay you anything you please.'
'Nay,' said Grace, 'according to you, that is just what he ought not to be.'
'I do not understand what diverts you so much,' said Rachel, growing lofty in her displeasure. 'What matters it what the man may be?'
'That is exactly what we want to see,' returned Bessie.
Poor Rachel, a grave and earnest person like her, had little chance with one so full of playful wit and fun as Bessie Keith, to whom her very dignity and susceptibility of annoyance made her the better game. To have involved the grave Rachel in such a parody of an adventure was perfectly irresistible to her, and to expect absolute indifference to it would, as Grace felt, have been requiring mere stupidity. Indeed, there was forbearance in not pushing Rachel further at the moment; but proceeding to tell the tale at Myrtlewood, whither Grace accompanied Bessie, as a guard against possible madcap versions capable of misconstruction.
'Yes,' said Rachel to herself, 'I see now what Captain Keith regrets. His sister, with all her fine powers and abilities, has had her tone lowered to the hateful conventional style of wit that would put me to the blush for the smallest mishap. I hope he will not come over till it is forgotten, for the very sight of his disapproval would incite her further. I am glad the Colonel is not here. Here, of course, he is in my imagination. Why should I be referring everything to him; I, who used to be so independent? Suppose this nonsense gave him umbrage? Let it. I might then have light thrown on his feelings and my own. At any rate, I will not be conscious. If this stranger be really worth notice, as I think he is, I will trample on her ridicule, and show how little I esteem it.'
CHAPTER IX. THE NEW SPORT
''Sire,' I replied, 'joys prove cloudlets, Men are the merest Ixions.' Here the King whistled aloud, 'Let's, Heigho, go look at our lions!' Such are the sorrowful chances If you talk fine to King Francis.'--R. BROWNING.
The day after Rachel's adventure with Don a card came into the drawing-room, and therewith a message that the gentleman had availed himself of Mrs. Curtis's kind permission, and was sketching the Spinster's Needles, two sharp points of red rock that stood out in the sea at the end of the peninsula, and were specially appropriated by Rachel and Grace.
The card was written, not engraved, the name 'Rd. R. H. C. L. Mauleverer;' and a discussion ensued whether the first letters stood for Richard or for Reverend, and if he could be unconscionable enough to have five initials. The sisters had some business to transact at Villars's, the Avonmouth deposit of literature and stationery, which was in the hands of a somewhat aspiring genius, who edited the weekly paper, and respected Miss Rachel Curtis in proportion to the number of periodicals she took in, and the abstruseness of the publications she inquired after. The paper in its Saturday's dampness lay fresh on the counter, and glancing at the new arrivals, Grace had the desired opportunity of pointing to Mr. Mauleverer's name, and asking when he had come. About a week since, said the obliging Mr. Villars, he appeared to be a gentleman of highly literary and artistic tastes, a philanthropist; indeed, Mr. Villars understood him to be a clerical gentlemen who had opinions--
'Oh, Rachel, I am very sorry,' said Grace.
'Sorry, what for?'
'Why, you and mamma seemed quite inclined to like him.'
'Well, and what have we heard?'
'Not much that is rational, certainly,' said Grace, smiling; 'but we know what was meant.'
'Granting that we do, what is proved against him? No, I will not say proved, but alleged. He is one of the many who have thought for themselves upon the perplexing problems of faith and practice, and has been sincere, uncompromising, self-sacrificing, in avowing that his mind is still in that state of solution in which all earnest and original minds must be ere the crystallizing process sets in. Observe, Grace, I am not saying for an instant that he is in the right. All I do say is, that when depth of thought and candour have brought misfortune upon a man, it is ungenerous, therefore, to treat him as if he had the leprosy.'
'Indeed, Rachel, I think you have made more out of his opinions than I did.'
'I was only arguing on your construction of his opinions.'
'Take care--!' For they were at this moment reaching a gate of Myrtlewood, and the sound of hoofs came close behind them. They were those of the very handsome chestnut, ridden by Alexander Keith, who jumped off his horse with more alacrity than usual as they were opening the gate for him, and holding out his hand, eagerly said--
'Then I conclude there is nothing the matter?'
'Nothing at all,' said Grace. 'What did you hear?'
'Only a little drowning, and a compound fracture or two,' said he, relapsing into his languid ease as he gave his bridle to a groom, and walked with them towards the house.
' There, how very annoying!' exclaimed Rachel, 'though, of course, the smallest adventure does travel.'
'I may venture to hope that neither are you drowned, nor my sister's leg broken, nor a celebrated professor and essayist 'in a high fever wi' pulling any of you out of the sea.''
'There, Grace,' exclaimed Rachel; 'I told you he was something distinguished.'
'My dear Rachel, if his celebrity be in proportion to the rest of the story.'
'Then there really was a rescue!' exclaimed Captain Keith, now with much more genuine anxiety; and Rachel recollecting her desire that the right version should have the precedence, quickly answered, 'There was no danger, only Don slipped down into that curved cove where we walked one day with the boys. I went down after him, but he had broken his leg. I could not get up with him in my arms, and Bessie called some one to help me.'
