Adventure stories; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
It went to my heart that my poor little companion should be brought to
this pass, but she acquiesced in it so cheerfully, and with such a
merry sense of the occasion as did a great deal to diminish my concern.
She was indeed a courageous little creature; and there was something
about her new duties that seemed to amuse her, for she went about them
with a humorous zest as though she was laughing at herself while she
did so. All the same we were genuinely glad when at last the hour came
for our retirement. We were thoroughly wearied and footsore too.
We rose in much better heart betimes on the following morning, and set
about our unaccustomed tasks with a vigour that compensated for our
inexperience. After all, they were of an elementary character, not at
all difficult to learn. To be sure it was more than a little strange
at first to find ourselves engaged in such lowly capacities, but when
after an hour or two the singularity had worn off, they became by no
means irksome. Indeed, the novelty of the thing might be said to pass
the time pleasantly. But as it happened, we were to be startled out of
these pursuits in the rudest manner.
It chanced that about noon I had led the horse of a gentleman, who had
passed the previous night at the inn, out of the stable round to the
front door. And while I was holding its head against its master's
departure there arose a clatter of wheels on the road. In a minute, or
less, a chaise drew up at the door. No glance was needed at its
occupants to tell me to whom it belonged. The peculiar shape and
colour were quite sufficient to advertise me of that matter. It was
the Duke in person, accompanied by the indefatigable Mr. Waring. His
Grace lost no time in relinquishing the reins, and together they
stepped from the vehicle to ease their legs somewhat, and entered the
inn in quest of any little refreshment it might afford them. Happily
neither paid much heed to me. Indeed beyond an order to give an eye to
the horses and to fetch them a drink of water, I claimed no share of
their attention.
No sooner had they entered the inn, however, than in the midst of some
self-congratulation on my present impunity from discovery, I was beset
with a sudden fear of Cynthia. What more likely than that they should
directly encounter her, unless she could be apprised of their
proximity? She must be warned at all costs. Fortunately at that
moment the owner of the horse, whose head I was holding, appeared and
relieved me of its charge. Thereupon I hastily entered to advise
Cynthia of her danger. Yet I did so only to find that the worst had
happened already.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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