its top. It seems like breaking down or backing out, and crying ‘surrender,’ – which our dear father has taught us never to do. Up to the summit yonder is but a step now. It won’t take us ten minutes more to reach it; besides, I want to see something I haven’t set eyes on for a long while – that grand valley through which meanders my namesake, Sabrina. And looking back from there, you can also feast your eyes on that in which wanders yours, Vaga, capricious like yourself. In addition,” she added, not heeding her sister’s shrug of the shoulders, “we’ll there get a better view of a glorious sunset that’s soon to be over the Hatteral Hills; and the twilight after will give us ample time to get home before the supper table be set. So, why should you hinder me – to say nothing of yourself – from indulging in a little bit of aesthetics?”
“Hinder you!” exclaimed Vaga, protestingly. “I hinder! You shan’t say that.”
And at the words she went bounding on upward, like a mountain antelope; not stopping again till she stood on the summit of the hill.
Chapter Five
Waiting and Watching
Following with alacrity, Sabrina was soon again by the side of her sister. But just then no further speech passed between them. Not that both were silent. On the crest of the ridge, treeless and overgrown with gorse, Hector had run foul of a donkey, and after a short chase was holding it at bay. With his barks were mingled cries of encouragement from his mistress, laughter, and patting of her hands, as she hounded him on. Possibly had the Forester, Neddy’s owner, come up at that moment, he might not have shown the politeness for which Sabrina had given his fellows credit. But the young lady meant no harm; nor much the mastiff. If he had, there was little danger of his doing it; the creature whose ancestry came from Mesopotamia being able to take care of itself. The demonstrations of the dog – an overfed, good-natured brute – looked as if being made either for his own amusement or that of his young mistress; while the donkey, on the defence, with teeth, and heels, seemed equally to enjoy the fun.
The elder sister, standing apart, had neither eyes nor ears for this bit of hoydenish play. If a thought, it was the fear of giving offence to the ass’s owner, should that individual unluckily come along. As no one came, however, she left Vaga to her vagaries, and stood intently gazing upon the landscape spread before her.
A far and varied view she commanded from that elevated spot. First, a deep, wide valley below, trending away to the right, with a tiny stream trickling adown it, and a straggling village, the houses standing apart along its banks – Drybrook. But not as the Drybrook of to-day, showing tall brick chimneys – the monoliths of our own modern time – with their plumes of grey black smoke; cinder-strewn roads running from one to the other, and patches of bare pasture between. Then it was embowered, almost buried, in trees; here and there only a spot of whitewashed walls or a quaint lead window, seen through the thick foliage. Beyond village and stream rose another ridge, with a gradual ascent up to the “Wilderness”; and still farther off – so far as to be just visible – stretched a wide expanse of low-lying champaign country, the valley of the Severn, once the sound of a sea. As the young girl gazed upon it, the sinking sun behind her back, with the Forest highlands beginning to fling the shadows of twilight across the Severn’s plain, and the white mist that overhung it, she might well have imagined the waters of ocean once more o’erflowing their ancient bed.
She neither imagined this nor thought of it; in fact saw not the fog, nor gave so much as a second glance to that valley she had professed herself so desirous of viewing. Instead, her eyes were fixedly bent upon the face of the acclivity opposite – more particularly on a riband of road that went winding up through woods from Drybrook to the “Wilderness.” And still with the same look of earnest interrogation. What could it mean?
Vaga coming up, after having finished her affair with the donkey, observed the look, and it called forth a fresh display of that persiflage she so delighted in. Hitherto Sabrina had the best of it. Her turn now, and she took advantage of it, saying, —
“Why, sister Sab, you seem to have forgotten all about what you came here for! You’re not looking at the Severn at all! Your glances are directed too low for it. And as to the glorious sunset you spoke of, that’s going on behind you! Something on the road over yonder seems to be the attraction; though I can see nothing but the road itself.”
“Nor I,” said Sabrina, a little confused, with just the slightest spot of red again showing on her cheeks. Enough, though, to catch the eye of her suspicious sister, who archly observed, —
“Rather strange, your gazing so earnestly at it, then?”
“Well, yes; I suppose it is.”
“But not if you’re expecting to see some one upon it.”
Sabrina started, the red on her cheeks becoming more pronounced; but she said nothing, since now her secret was discovered, or on the eve of discovery. Vaga’s next words left her no longer in doubt.
“Who is he, sister?” she asked with a sly look, and a laugh.
“Who is who?”
“He you expect to see come riding down yonder road. I take it he’ll be on horseback?”
“Vaga! you’re a very inquisitive creature.”
“Have I not some right, after being dragged all the way hither, when I wanted to go home? If you called me a hungry creature ’twould be nearer the truth. Jesting apart, I am that – quite famished; so weak I must seek support from a tree.”
And with a mock stagger, she brought up against the trunk of a hawthorn that grew near.
Sabrina could not resist laughing too, though still keeping her eyes on the uphill road. It seemed as though she could not take her eyes off it. But the other quickly recovering strength, and more naturally than she had affected feebleness, once more returned to the attack, saying, —
“Sister mine; it’s no use you’re trying to hoodwink me. You forget that by accident I saw a letter that lately came to Hollymead – at least its superscription. Equally oblivious you appear to be, that the handwriting of a certain gentleman is quite familiar to me, having seen many other letters from the same to father. So, putting that and that together, I’ve not the slightest doubt that the one of last week, addressed to your sweet self, informed you that on a certain day, hour, afternoon, Sir Richard Walwyn would enter the Forest of Dean by the Drybrook Road on his way to – ”
“Vaga, you’re a very demon!”
“Which means I’ve read your secret aright. So you may as well make confession of it.”
“I won’t; and just to punish you for prying. Curiosity ungratified will be to you very torture, as I know.”
“Oh, well! keep it close; it don’t signify a bit. One has little care to be told what one knows without telling. If Sir Richard should come to Hollymead, why then six and six make a dozen, don’t they?”
Sabrina turned a half-reproachful look on her tormentor, but without making reply.
“You needn’t answer,” the other went on. “My arithmetic’s right, and the problem’s solved, or will be, by the gentleman spoken of making his appearance any time this day, or – Why, bless me! Yonder he is now, I do believe.”
The exclamatory phrase had reference to a horseman seen riding down the road so narrowly watched; though the speaker was not the first to see him. He had been already sighted by Sabrina, and it was the flash of excitement in her eyes that guided those of her sister.
The
