do, I say. Now, cut.”
“When I like,” said the man, with a sneer. “Better let me marry her; the captain won’t.”
The keeper caught him by the throat.
“Will you keep that cursed tongue still!”
“No, I won’t,” cried the young man fiercely, and with a savage look in his eyes. “I know, even if I have been away. I know all about it. But I’m in that little flutter, Ben Hayle.”
“Curse you! hold your tongue, will you,” roared the keeper; and the dogs began to bark fiercely as he forced the young poacher back against a tree, but only to release him, as a quick sharp voice, called to the dogs, which dashed up to the new-comer, leaping to be caressed.
“Hallo! what’s up? You here again?”
Captain Robert Rolph, of The Warren, and of Her Majesty’s 20th Dragoon Guards, a well-set-up, athletic-looking fellow, scowled at the poacher, and the colour came a little into his cheeks.
“Oh yes, I’m back again, master.”
“Then take my advice, sir; go away again to somewhere at a distance.”
The young man gave him a sidelong glance, and laughed unpleasantly.
“Look here, Caleb Kent: you’re a smart-looking fellow. Go up to Trafalgar Square. You’ll find one of our sergeants there. Take the shilling, and they’ll make a man of you. You’ll be in my regiment, and I’ll stand your friend.”
“Thankye for nothing, captain. ’List so as to be out of your way, eh? Not such a fool.”
“Oh, very well then, only look out, sir. I’ll see that Sir John Day doesn’t let you off so easily next time you’re in trouble.”
“Ketch me first,” said the young man; and giving the pair an ugly, unpleasant look, he walked away.
“Not me,” he muttered. “I haven’t done yet; wait a bit.”
“No good, sir,” said the keeper, looking after the young poacher till he was out of sight. “Bad blood, sir; bad blood.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. Morning, Hayle. Er – Miss Hayle quite well?”
“Yes sir, thank you kindly,” said the keeper; and then, as the captain walked away, he trudged on through the woods, talking to himself.
“Miss Hayle,” he said, and he turned a bit red in the face. “Well, she is good enow for him or any man; but no, no, that would never do. Don’t be a fool, Ben, my lad: you don’t want trouble to come. Trouble,” he muttered, as he half cocked his gun, “why, I’d – bah!” he ejaculated, cooling down; “what’s the good o’ thinking things like that? Better pepper young Caleb. Damn him! he set me thinking it. Captain’s right enough. I like a man who’s fond of a bit of sport.”
As it happened, Captain Rolph was thinking, in a somewhat similar vein, of poachers and dark nights, and opportunities for using a gun upon unpleasant people. But these thoughts were pervaded, too, with bright eyes and cheeks, and he said to himself, —
“He’d better; awkward for him if he does.”
Volume One – Chapter Two.
Mars on the Horizon
In the drawing-room at The Warren, Mrs Rolph, a handsome, dignified lady of five-and-forty, was sitting back, with her brows knit, looking frowningly at a young and pretty girl of nineteen, whose eyes were puzzling, for in one light they seemed beautiful, in another shifting. She was a Rosetti-ish style of girl, with too much neck, a tangle of dark red hair, and lips of that peculiar pout seen in the above artist’s pictures, in conjunction with heavily-lidded eyes, and suggesting at one moment infantile retraction from a feeding-bottle, at another parting from the last kiss. There was a want of frankness in her countenance that would have struck a stranger at once, till she spoke, when the soft, winning coo of her voice proved an advocate which made the disingenuous looks and words fade into insignificance.
Her voice sounded very sweet and low now, as she said softly, —
“Are you not judging dear Robert too hardly, aunt?”
“No, Madge, no. It is as plain as can be; he thinks of nothing else when he comes home – he, a man to whom any alliance is open, to be taken in like that by a keeper’s – an ex-poacher’s daughter.”
“Judith is very ladylike and sweet,” said Marjorie softly, as if to herself.
“Madge, do you want to make me angry?” cried Mrs Rolph, indignantly. “Shame upon you! And it is partly your fault. You have been so cold and distant with him, when a few gentle words would have brought him to your side.”
“I am sure you would not have liked me to be different towards him. You would not have had me throw myself at his feet.”
The words were as gentle-sounding as could be, but all the same there was a suggestion of strength behind, if the speaker cared to exert it.
“No, no, it is not your fault, my dear,” cried Mrs Rolph, angrily; “it is mine, I can see it all now. It was a foolish mistake having her here. Educating a girl like that is a great error, and I see it now that it is too late. Oh, Madge, dear, if I could see him happily wedded to you, how different things might be. But I declare that nothing shall ever induce me to consent. If he will go on in utter rebellion to his mother, he must do so.”
“But is it too late, aunt?”
“Unless you rouse yourself up to the position, act like a woman of the world, and drag him from this wretched girl. Oh, it is too disgraceful. If I had only thought to send her away before his regiment was quartered so near.”
“Yes,” said Marjorie, musingly, “but it is too late now.”
“Then you will not try?”
“I did not say so. Here he is.”
There was a step in the hall, the sound of a stick being thrust carelessly into a stand, and, directly after, Rolph tramped into the room.
“Ah, Madge,” he said, in a careless, easy way; and, ignoring the smile of welcome with which she greeted him, he walked across to his mother’s chair.
“Well,” he said, “how is the head?” and he stooped down and kissed her brow.
“Not at all well, my dear,” she said affectionately. “I think I will go up to my room.”
“Have a drive, dear; I’ll order the tandem out.”
“No, no, my dear, I shall be better soon.”
She rose, kissed him, and left the room.
“Dodge to leave Madge and me together,” muttered the young man. “All right. Bring things to a climax.”
“How very little we see of you, Robert,” said Madge softly. “So much training?”
“Health. Shows how wise I have grown. I’m like pepper; a little of me is very nice – too much an abomination.”
Marjorie
