Pixie O'Shaughnessy Part 21

"Something's wrong with the Major. He was so glum all the way here, and look at him now with his head hanging forward! It's not like him to be down-hearted at a meet."

"Perhaps he is tired. He'll waken up presently when we get to business.

It would only worry him if we took any notice."

"That's true. Perhaps the mare fidgets him. It's the one he bought a short time since, and she has an awkward temper. Sometimes she is a paragon and does everything that she ought, but at others she is fidgety and uncertain. Father thinks she has been badly ridden at the start, but that she is good enough to take trouble with still."

"She looks a beauty, and she has not had any time to annoy him to-day.

I think it can hardly be that. Did not your brother return to town yesterday? I stayed away on purpose, because I feared that on his last day you would not care to be disturbed; but isn't it very likely that Major O'Shaughnessy is depressed at being without him?"

Esmeralda looked up with a brightening glance. "Why, of course, I never thought of that! Father hates saying good-bye to Jack, hates him being in town at all, for he is the first O'Shaughnessy who has ever gone into business. There was a great scene when Jack was twenty, because he insisted on doing something for himself. 'Have you no pride?' cries my father. 'Faith I have!' cries Jack. 'Too much of it to spend all my life starving in a ruin.' 'You will be the first of your race to soil your hands with trade.' 'Honest work,' says Jack, 'will soil no man's hands, and please G.o.d, I'll touch nothing that isn't honest.' 'You'll be falling into English ways and selling the old place as not fit for you to live in. I know the ways of your purse-proud English.' Then Jack went white all over his face, and he says, 'It's never a stone of Knock I'd sell if I could keep it with my own heart's blood, but it's time it had a master who could spend money on it instead of seeing it fall to pieces before his eyes.' Then it was the Major's turn to go white, and mother said softly, 'Jack dear--Jack!' You never knew my mother. Bridgie is like her, she always made peace--and after that father made no more objections. I think, in a curious sort of way, he was proud of Jack because he would have his will, and he is doing well.

He will retrieve our fortunes some fine day. There! there go the hounds! They are over into the covert, and see! see! there's that old shepherd holding up his hat. The fox is off! Now for it!"

Now for it indeed! From that time forth there was little chance of connected conversation, but all his life long Geoffrey Hilliard looked back upon that morning with the fond, yearning tenderness with which we recall the suns.h.i.+ne which precedes a storm. It was so delightful to be mounted upon a fine horse galloping lightly across country with that beautiful figure by his side, the dark eyes meeting his with a flash of understanding at every fresh incident of the run. As time wore on and the ground became more difficult, the other ladies dropped behind one by one, but Esmeralda never wearied, never flinched before any obstacle.

It was the prettiest thing in the world to see her trot slowly but straightly towards gate or fence, loosen the reins, and soar like a bird over the apparently formidable obstacle, and Hilliard privately admitted that it took him all his time to keep level with her. The Major still rode apart, and seemed to take pleasure in choosing the most difficult jumps that came in his way; but his mare behaved well, and no one felt any anxiety about the safety of one of the cleverest riders present.

Danger was close at hand, however, in one of those nasty "bits of water"

of which Esmeralda had spoken to her sister. The hounds doubled suddenly, and the huntsmen, wheeling their horses to follow, saw before them at a distance of some quarter of a mile a line of those well-known willows which to the practised eye so plainly bespeak the presence of a brook. Esmeralda pointed towards them and spoke a few warning words.

"A bad bit, swollen, I expect, after the snow. A fence this side.

There's the Master taking a view. He will tell us if it's safe, if not, we must try the meadow. Ride over here towards him."

She swerved to the side as she spoke, and a moment later was within short enough distance to hear the warning cry. The Master pointed with his whip in the direction of the meadow, of which Esmeralda had spoken, and the next moment the whole hunt was galloping after him. The whole hunt, we have said, but there was one exception, for one rider refused to take warning or to turn aside from the direct line across country.

The sudden change of course had left him in the rear, and so it happened that his absence was not noted by his companions, and it was only when several moments had pa.s.sed that Esmeralda, looking from side to side, began to draw her delicate brows into a frown as she asked Hilliard--

"Where's father? I can't see him. He is not here."

"I don't see him either, but he was with us five minutes ago before we turned back. I saw him in the last field."

"So did I, but where is he now? He can't--" Esmeralda reined in suddenly and turned startled eyes upon her companion--"he can't have tried that brook?"

"No, no! Certainly not." But even as he spoke Hilliard had a prevision of the truth. Although he would not admit as much as Esmeralda, there had been something in the Major's bearing which had struck him unpleasantly since the moment of meeting, and his reckless riding had deepened the impression. "You go on," he said earnestly, "and I will ride back and see. Perhaps he took a look at the brook and then had to come round after all, which would make him late. Please go on, Miss Joan."

But Esmeralda looked him full in the eyes and turned her horse back towards the brook.

"I am going back myself. If there has been an accident, it is I who should be there. Don't hinder me, Mr Hilliard. I must go to my father."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

TROUBLE AT KNOCK.

The Major was lying on the bank of the stream, white and motionless, while Black Bess was pawing the air in agony a few yards away.

Esmeralda slipped from her saddle and ran to his side, and he opened his eyes and smiled at her feebly.

"Joan, my girl! That's right. My--own--fault! I had no business to try it, but I was--mad, I think. That poor beast!" and he turned away his head, unable to look upon the animal's struggles. "I can't move.

Get a cart--O'Brien's farm."

"I'll go! I can see the chimneys. I'll bring help at once. I'll bring back men with me, and we'll lift him with less pain."

Hilliard dashed off in the direction of the farm, and Joan knelt down and lifted her father's head on to her knee. He tried to smile encouragement into the ashen face.

"It might have been worse, dear! She threw me clear of the water, and I've no pain. I shall be all right when I get home, and have a rest."

"Yes, darling, yes. Of course you will," answered Esmeralda bravely.

Accidents in the hunting-field were unfortunately no new thing to her, and her heart died within her as she looked at the helpless limbs, and heard her father's words. Over and over again had she heard old huntsmen marvel at the unconsciousness of those who were most mortally injured. Absence of pain, combined with loss of power in the limbs, meant serious injury to the spine, yet it seemed as if, with the comparative comfort of the body, there must be a dulling of the mental powers, since the victim frequently congratulated himself on his escape, and seemed to forget the experiences of others!

As Esmeralda sat holding her father's head on her knee, the future stretched before her, transformed by the accident of a moment. The Major would never again ride by her side, never again mount his horse and gallop over the wide green land; while he lived he must lie even as he lay now, still and straight, a child in the hands of his nurses!

Poor father! oh, poor, poor father! what a death in life, to one of his restless nature! what grief, what agony to see his sufferings! The spring would come, and the summer, and the autumn, but there would be no suns.h.i.+ne at Knock Castle, nothing but clouds and darkness, and dull, settled gloom. Esmeralda had been her father's darling, and had returned his love with all the fervour of a pa.s.sionate Irish heart, so that the sight of him in his helplessness hurt like a physical pain, and the moments seemed endless until Hilliard returned accompanied by the farmer and three of his men.

An hour later the Major was carried upstairs to his own room in the Castle, and laid gently upon the old four-poster bed. Hilliard had ridden on in advance to prepare the young mistress, and there she stood at the doorway, white to the lips, but smiling still, a smile of almost motherly tenderness as she bent over the prostrate form.

"More trouble to ye, Bridgie!" murmured the Major faintly. "A little rest--that's all I need; but that poor beast! Tell Dennis to go and put her out of her misery." He shut his eyes and remained silent until the doctor arrived, galloping up to the door on Hilliard's horse, which he had lent to save time, and tearing up the staircase to the sick-room with the unprofessional speed of an old and devoted friend.

The examination was soon over, and fortunately the patient asked no questions; he was tired and inclined for sleep, unperturbed on his own account, but greatly distressed for the n.o.ble animal for whose agony he held himself responsible. He was soothed by the a.s.surance that everything possible should be done to cure, or, if that were impossible, to end its sufferings, and was then left to rest, while the doctor returned to the morning-room, to face the sisters with what courage he might. Bridgie lay back in a deep, old-fas.h.i.+oned chair, a slight, almost childlike figure, her hands clasped in her lap, her shoulders bowed as by too heavy a burden--the burden of all those five motherless,--it might soon be fatherless?--children. Esmeralda, straight and defiant by the fireplace, her stormy eyes challenging his face.

"I--I--there is very little to say!" The doctor pa.s.sed his hands helplessly through his grey locks and wished himself at the other end of the county. "I didn't want to fatigue him to-day, but to-morrow we can have a better examination. Perhaps Trevor would come over in consultation. He seems quite easy--quite easy and comfortable. I think he will sleep. You must keep up your hearts, and not let him think you are anxious. A great thing to keep up the spirits!"

"Why do you talk like that? Why do you try to deceive us? My father will never get better. You know perfectly well that it is hopeless!"

Esmeralda's voice sounded clear and cold as falling water; her lips did not tremble, she looked the doctor full in the face with hard, defiant eyes. "I have seen other accidents before this, and know what it means.

It is useless to pretend. He has no pain because his spine is too much injured. If he suffered, there might be some hope; as it is, there is none. He will lie there days, weeks, months, whichever it may be, but he will never move out of that room. He is dead already, my father, the father I love, and it will be cruel and wicked of you if you try to keep him alive!"

"Joan, Joan! Oh, darling, don't! Think what you are saying!"

Tender-hearted Bridgie burst into tears, but Esmeralda would not be restrained. She turned to her sister ablaze with righteous anger.

"What! You too? Would you keep him here, existing--merely existing-- not able to do anything--he who has been so active all his life! It's cruel, I tell you--cruel and selfis.h.!.+ You ought not even to wish such a thing!"

"My child, the issues of life and death are not in our hands!" The voice of the old man sounded solemn and deep after the girl's heated accents, and she caught her breath as she listened. "It is not for you to decide what is best. If your father lingers in helplessness, it will be for some wise purpose, and you will see that it will be less trying than you expect. Nature herself will work in his favour, for, when paralysis comes, on the brain is mercifully deadened against the worst.

He will not suffer, and in all probability he will be patient and resigned. Is not that something for which to be thankful?"

Bridgie covered her face with a low, heart-broken cry, for the doctor's silent a.s.sent to Esmeralda's verdict--the undisguised conviction that the case was hopeless--came to her with a shock of surprise before which her courage wavered.

"Mother dead--father dead! All those children alone in the world, and no money for them, and only me--only me--" Her heart swelled with a great wave of protecting love; she held out her arms and cried brokenly, "Esmeralda, come--come to me. Darling, if we are to be alone, we must help each other, we must love each other more! Oh, Esmeralda, be brave, for I am frightened--I can't do everything alone!" And at that Esmeralda gave a great cry and rushed across the room, and the old doctor groped his way downstairs, leaving the sisters sobbing in each other's arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE SENTENCE.

That afternoon and the next day pa.s.sed away like a nightmare, and still the Major lay in the same helpless calm. Mr Hilliard had gone over to Dublin on his own responsibility, and had come back late at night, bringing with him a trained nurse, at the sight of whom Bridgie shed tears of thankfulness; but during the daytime the sisters took it in turns to watch by the bedside, while Mademoiselle seemed to act the part of guardian angel to the whole household in turns. She soothed the excited servants and roused them to a sense of their duty. She cooked dainty little dishes for the nurses, and ministered to them when they were off duty. She interviewed callers, and, last and best of all, took Pixie in hand, and kept her interested and content. It was the strong wish of her brothers and sisters that Pixie should not suspect the dangerous nature of her father's illness, for they knew her excitable nature, and trembled for the effect on the invalid of one of her pa.s.sionate bursts of lamentation.

"Besides, what's the use? Let her be happy as long as she can! I want her to be happy!" cried Bridgie pathetically; and Mademoiselle a.s.sented, knowing full well that the very effort of keeping up before the child would be good for the rest of the household. There was no preventing one interview, however, for the Major was as much set on seeing his piccaninny as she was determined to see him; so on the evening of the second day Bridgie led her cautiously into the room, and the sick man moved his eyes--the only part of him that seemed able to move--and looked wistfully into the eager face.

"Well, my Pixie, I've been getting into trouble, you see!"

"Does it hurt ye, father? Have you got a pain?"

"Never a bit, Pixie. I'm just numb. I feel as if I can't move!"