Three Margarets Read online

  CHAPTER XII.

  IN THE SADDLE.

  "To witch the world with noble horsemanship."

  Rita's "story" was not the first thing to rouse suspicion in Margaret'smind. It was rather the concluding word of a sentence that had beenforming in her mind during the last ten days.

  Something was on foot; some mystery hung about; she had felt thus much,and had felt, too, that it was connected with Rita; but all had beenvague, uncertain.

  Rita had been receiving many letters with the New York postmark; butwhat of that? It was not Margaret's business to take notice of hercousin's letters. She had met Rita once or twice at the foot of thegarret stairs, evidently returning from a visit to that place of shadowydelight. What of that? Rita had said each time that she had been lookingfor such and such a costume; that she was planning a charade, a newtableau, that would be sure to ravish her cousins; and in the eveningshe would produce the charade or the tableau, and sure enough, it wouldbe enchanting, and they were delighted, and most grateful to her for thepains she took to amuse them. And yet--and yet--had she been at thesepains until lately? Had not Margaret herself been the one who must thinkof the evening's amusement, plan the game, the reading, or singing,which should keep the three various natures in harmonious accord? So ithad surely been, until these last ten days; and now--

  But how hateful to suspect, when it might be that Rita was merelyfeeling that perhaps she had not done her share, and had realised thatwith her great talent and her lovely voice and presence, she was the oneto plan and execute their little entertainments? And what shouldMargaret suspect? It was not her nature to be anything but trustful ofthose around her; and yet--and yet--

  But now her suspicions had taken definite shape, and Rita herself hadconfirmed them. There could no longer be any doubt that she wasplanning to take advantage of their uncle's continued absence to aid herbrother,--who was in New York, as Margaret knew, in spite of Rita'srecent declaration that he was in the mountains,--and to conceal arms inFernley House, and have them shipped from there. It seemed impossible;it seemed a thing out of a play or a novel, but she could not doubt thefact. After all, Rita was a person for a play or a novel. This thing,which to Margaret seemed unspeakable, was to Rita but a natural impulseof patriotism, a piece of heroism.

  Of course she would not be able to do it; no person in her senses wouldattempt such a thing, on Long Island, only a few miles from New York;but the hot-blooded young Cubans would not realise that, and they mightmake some attempt which, though futile, would bring disagreeableconsequences to Mr. Montfort and to all concerned. What was Margaret todo? The absurdity of the whole thing presented itself to her keenly, andshe would have been glad enough to turn it all into a jest, and take itas the "story" with which Rita had tried to rouse her cool-bloodedcousins; but that could not be. Rita had meant every word she said, andmore; that was evident. What was Margaret to do? Her first thought wasof Mrs. Cheriton; her second of John Strong, the gardener. Aunt Faithought not, she was sure, to be disturbed or made anxious; her hold onlife was too slender; her days must flow evenly and peacefully, as UncleJohn had arranged them for her; it would never do to tell her of thisthreatened, fantastic danger. But John Strong! he was Mr. Montfort'sconfidential servant, almost his friend. Nay, Aunt Faith had spoken ofhim as "a good friend," simply and earnestly. He knew Uncle John'saddress, no doubt; he would give it to her, or write himself, as seemedbest. It was dreadful to betray her cousin, but these were not the daysof melodrama, and it was quite clear that Fernley House could not bemade a deposit of arms for the Cuban insurgents during its master'sabsence. So with a clear conscience, though a heavy heart, Margaretsought the garden.

  John Strong was there, as he always was in the morning, fondling hisroses, clipping, pruning, tying up, and setting out. In the afternoonshe was never visible. Margaret had heard his voice occasionally in Mrs.Cheriton's rooms, but had never seen him there; he had evidently otherwork, or other haunts of his own, which kept him out of the way. Shecould not help knowing that he used her uncle's private sitting-room,but she took it for granted that it was with Mr. Montfort's leave andfor his business. Rita might mistrust this man; but no one of Northernblood could look on the strong, quiet face without feeling that it wasthat of one of nature's noblemen, at least.

  "John," said Margaret, after she had admired the roses and listened to abrief but eloquent dissertation upon Catherine Mermet and Marechal Niel,"how near are we to the sea?"

  "To the sea, Miss Margaret? Call it a quarter of a mile. The rise of theland hides it from Fernley, but you will notice that we are near, by thesound of it; and you have been down to the shore a number of times, Ithink."

  "Yes; oh, yes! I know it is very near. I was only thinking--John, wouldit be easy for--persons--to come here from the shore, without beingseen? I mean, could a vessel lie off here and not attract attention?"

  John Strong looked at her keenly. "That depends, Miss," he said. "Byday, no; by night, yes. It is a quiet part of the shore, you see."

  "Do you know when Mr. Montfort is coming home?" was Margaret's nextquestion; and as she put it she looked straight into the gardener'sbrown eyes, and they looked straight into hers. She fancied that JohnStrong changed colour a little.

  "I have not heard from him lately," he said quietly. "I think he will behere very soon now. Could I--may I ask if anything is distressing you,my--Miss Margaret?"

  Margaret hesitated. The temptation was strong upon her to tell the wholetale to this man, whom she felt she could trust entirely; but thethought of Rita held her back. She would say what was necessary, and nomore.

  "I--I think--" she began timidly, "it might be well for you to bewatchful at night, John. The Cubans--I have heard rumours--there mightbe vessels,--do you think, possibly--"

  She broke off. The whole thing seemed like a nursery nightmare,impossible to put into plain English without exposing its absurdity. ButJohn Strong glanced at her again, and his eyes were grave.

  "Miss Rita is deeply interested in the Cuban war, I believe," he said,with meaning.

  Margaret started. "How did you know?" she asked. "Surely she has not--"

  John Strong laughed. "Hardly," he said. "Miss Rita does not conversewith menials. It was Peggy--Miss Peggy, I should say--who told me aboutit. She was quite inclined to take fire herself, but I think I cooledher down a bit. These are dangerous matters for young ladies to meddlewith. I think she told me that young Mr. Carlos Montfort was now in NewYork?"

  "I--I believe so," said Margaret. She was angry with Peggy for talkingso freely, yet it was a great help to her now, for John Strong evidentlyunderstood more of the matter than she would have liked to tell him.

  "You may trust me, Miss Margaret, I think," he said presently, after afew moments of silent snipping. "It is not necessary for me to knowanything in particular, even if there is anything to know. I am an oldsoldier, and used to keeping watch, and sleeping with one eye open. Youmay trust me. You have said nothing of this to Mrs. Cheriton?" He lookedup quickly.

  "No; I thought she ought not to be distressed--"

  "That was right; that was very right. You have shown--that is, you maydepend on me, young lady. May I cut this bud for you? It is a perfectone, if I may say so. Perhaps you will look closer at it, Miss; (MissRita is observing you from the balcony, and you would not wish)--there,Miss. I shall bring some cut flowers into the dining-room later, forarrangement, as you ask. Good morning, Miss."

  Margaret returned to the house, half relieved, half bewildered. JohnStrong was certainly a remarkable person. She did not understand hisposition here, which seemed far removed from that of a domestic, butafter all, it was none of her business. And even if he did speak ofPeggy by her first name, was it Margaret's place to reprove him? He wasalmost old enough to be Peggy's grandfather.

  Rita had apparently forgotten the storm of the day before. She was inhigh good humour, and greeted Margaret with effusion.

  "Just in time, Marguerite. Where have you been? We have called till w
eare hoarse. Look at us; we go to ride. We are to have an exhibition ofskill, on the back of the white beast. Behold our costumes, found in thegarret."

  Margaret looked, and laughed and admired. Rita was dressed in a longblack velvet riding-habit, with gold buttons, a regal garment in itstime, but now somewhat rubbed and worn; a tall hat of antique formperched upon her heavy braids, and she looked very businesslike. Peggyhad found no such splendour, but had put on a scarlet military coat overher own bicycle skirt. "Finery is good," she said, "but not onhorseback." A three-cornered hat, with the mouldering remains of afeather, completed her costume, and she announced herself as thegentleman of the party.

  "Rita was saying what a pity it was there were no boys here, and I toldher I ought to have been a boy, and I would do my best now," said Peggygood-naturedly. Rita made a little grimace, as if this were not thekind of boy she desired, but she nodded kindly at Peggy, and said shewas "fine."

  "And you, Marguerite? How will you appear? Will you find a cap andspectacles, and come as our grandmother? That would approve itself,_n'est-ce-pas_?" It was laughingly said, but the sting was there,nevertheless, and was meant to be felt.

  "Oh, I should delay you," replied Margaret. "Let me come as I am, and beringmaster, or audience, or whatever you like. I never rode in my life,you know." Peggy opened wide her eyes, Rita curled her lip, but Margaretonly laughed. "Frightful, isn't it? but how would you have me ride in myfather's study? And the horses that went by our windows had mostly draysbehind them, so they were not very tempting. Is William going to saddleWhite Eagle for you, girls?"

  "William has gone to the mill, or to bed, or somewhere," said Peggy. "Iam going to saddle him myself. John Strong said I might."

  They went out to the great, pleasant barn, and while Peggy saddled thegood horse, Rita and Margaret mounted the old swing, and went flyingbackward and forward between the great banks of fragrant hay.

  "Isn't it good to be a swallow?" said Margaret. "I wonder if we shallreally fly some day; it really seems as if we might."

  "I would rather be an eagle," said Rita. "To flutter a little, here andthere, and sleep in a barn,--that would not be a great life. An eagle,soaring over the field of battle,--aha! he is my bird! But what is thisoutcry? Has he bitten thee, Peggy?"

  For Peggy was shouting from below; yet when they listened, the shoutswere of wonder and delight.

  "Oh, girls, do just look here! There is a new horse,--a colt! Oh, what abeauty!"

  The girls came down hastily, and ran to the door of the second boxstall, which had been empty since they came. There stood a noble younghorse, jet black, with a single white mark on his forehead. His coatshone like satin, his eyes beamed with friendly inquiry. Already Peggyhad her head against his shoulder, and was murmuring admiration in hisear.

  "You lovely, you dear, beautiful thing, where did you come from? Oh,Margaret, isn't he a darling? Come and see him!"

  Margaret came in rather timidly; she was not used to animals, and thehorse seemed very large, tramping about freely in his ample stall. Buthe received her so kindly, and put his nose in her pocket with suchconfiding grace, that her fears were soon conquered. Rita patted himgraciously, but kept her distance. "Very fine, my dear, but the strawsmells, and gets on one's clothes so. Saddle me this one, Peggy, and youcan have the white one yourself."

  "Are we--have we leave to take this horse?" asked Margaret, colouring.It was too horrid that she must always play the dragon,--as if she likedit,--and of course the others thought she did.

  "Have we been forbidden to take the horse, dear?" asked Rita withdangerous sweetness. "No? But perhaps you were told to keep watch on usby your friend, the servant, who wears his master's clothes? Again, no?Then kindly permit me, at least, to do as I think best."

  "Oh, Rita!" cried Peggy, "perhaps we ought not--"

  "_Chut!_" cried Rita, flashing upon her in the way that alwaysfrightened Peggy out of her wits. "Do you saddle me the horse, or do Ido it myself?"

  Margaret thought it was highly improbable that Rita could do it herself,but she said no more. A difficulty arose, however. There was found to bebut one saddle. "Never mind!" said Peggy. "I can ride bareback just aswell as saddleback; but I am afraid, Rita--"

  "Afraid!" cried Rita. "You too, Peggy? My faith, what a set!"

  "Afraid the saddle will not fit the black!" said Peggy, looking for oncedefiantly at her terrible cousin. "White Eagle is so big, you see; thesaddle was made for him, and it slips right off this fellow's back."

  Rita fretted and stamped her pretty feet, and said various explosivethings under her breath, and not so far under but that they could beheard pretty well, but all this did not avail to make the saddle smalleror the new horse bigger; so at last she was obliged to mount WhiteEagle, and to have the mortification of seeing Peggy vault lightly onthe back of the black beauty. He had never been ridden before, perhaps;certainly he was not used to it, for he reared upright, and a lesspractised horsewoman than Peggy would have been thrown in an instant;but she sat like a rock, and stroked the horse between his ears, andpatted his neck, and somehow wheedled him down on his four legs again.Margaret watched with breathless interest. This was all new to her. Ritalooked graceful and beautiful, and rode with ease and skill, but Peggywas mistress of the situation. The black horse flew here and there,rearing, squealing with excitement, occasionally indulging in somethingsuspiciously like a "buck;" but Peggy, unruffled, still coaxed andcaressed him, and showed him so plainly that she was there to stay aslong as she felt inclined, that after a while he gave up the struggle,and settling down into a long, smooth gallop, bore her away like thewind over the meadow and up the slope that lay beyond. Now they came toa low stone wall, and the watchers thought they would turn back; butPeggy lifted the black at it, and he went over like a bird. Next momentthey were out of sight over the brow of the hill.

  HORSEBACK.]

  "Oh," cried Margaret, turning to Rita, her face aglow with pleasure,"wasn't that beautiful? Why, I had no idea the child could ride likethat, had you? I never knew what riding was before."

  Rita tried to look contemptuous, but the look was not a success. "Agentlewoman does not require to ride like a stable-boy!" was all shesaid. She was evidently out of humour, so Margaret was silent, onlywatching the hill, to see when the pair would come galloping back overthe brow.

  Here they were! Peggy was waving her hand--her hat had flown off at thefirst caracole, and Rita had ridden over it several times--and shoutingin jubilation. Her hair flew loose over her shoulders, her short skirtwas blown about in every direction, but her eyes were so bright, herface so rosy and joyous, that she was a pleasant sight to see, as,leaping the fence, she came sweeping along over the meadow.

  "Hail!" cried Margaret, when she came within hearing. "Hail, daughter ofChiron! gloriously ridden, O youthful Centauress!"

  Peggy did not know who Chiron was, but she caught the approving sound ofthe words, and waved her hand. "Come on, Rita!" she cried. "Take theEagle over the fence! It's great fun. I'm going to try standing up in aminute, when he is a little more used to me."

  They set off at an easy gallop, and White Eagle took the fence wellenough, though it was his first, and he was no colt, like the black.Then they circled round and round the meadow, sometimes neck and neck,sometimes one far in advance. Generally it was Peggy, for the black wasfar the swifter animal of the two; but now and then she pulled him in,like the good-natured girl she was, and let her cousin gallop ahead.Margaret watched them with delight, not a pang of envy disturbing herenjoyment. What a perfect thing it was! how enchanting to be one withyour horse, and feel his strong being added to your own! How--

  But what was this? All in a minute, something happened. The black puthis foot in a hole,--a woodchuck's burrow,--stumbled, pitched forward,and threw Peggy heavily to the ground. He recovered himself in a moment,and stood trembling; but Peggy lay still. Margaret was at her side in aninstant. The child had struck her head on a stone, and was insensible,and bleeding profusely from a cut on
the left temple. Rita dismountedand came near.

  "Some water, please!" said Margaret. "Bring water quickly, Rita, while Istop the bleeding. And give me your handkerchief, will you, before yougo?" She held out one hand, which was already covered with blood;glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and tremblingviolently.

  "What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,--ill? hold her, then, and Iwill run."

  "No,--no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is--the blood! I cannot bear thesight. I will go--I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It istoo terrible!"

  "Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently.

  "She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had somewater, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!"

  Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought,yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steadyhand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same momentMargaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blueeyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,--was Peggy giggling, evenbefore she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously,afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and itwas Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and--yes! undoubtedlylaughing.

  "Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but withperfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I havecome; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But--I say,Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I wasdead?"

  "Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those people who faint at the sightof blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind youa bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!"

  "Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes.But--I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose--the restof them--feel the same way about blood? because--"

  "Peggy, I am surprised at you!" said Margaret. "Hush this moment, or Iwill let your head drop!"