Rutledge Part 23

"I think, as you broke her in, to feminine usage at least, you are ent.i.tled to her; so I make her over to you, body and soul, if soul she has, to have and to hold, from this day forward; and a tender mistress may she find you."

"Thank you," I said, without raising my head; "a very useful gift; of about as much service to me as if you should make over to me your right and t.i.tle in the fastest pair of reindeer in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company."

"Why, don't you mean ever to come here again? If you don't, you had better take her with you. Any way, she is mine no longer. What shall be done with her? Shall Michael blanket and prepare her to accompany us to New York? or will you leave her here till you come back?"

"Ah! Do you fancy I am child enough to believe in such a conveyance as that? It wouldn't stand in any court of law."

"What would you have? There isn't a magistrate within four miles, and we haven't the time to draw up a doc.u.ment properly. I will tell you what can be done as next best. I will record the transaction here, above her manger, and there it shall remain to remotest ages, 'to witness if I lie.'"

Mr. Rutledge took out his penknife, and with considerable ingenuity carved in the st.u.r.dy old oak beam, the transfer of Madge Wildfire from himself to me, using, for brevity, only initials, and then the date. I climbed up to the fourth round of the ladder when it was completed, and did my best to achieve a signature, but the result was so unsatisfactory that Mr. Rutledge put beneath it, "her mark," and so it stands to this day, I suppose. This transaction having consumed a good deal of the hour and a quarter that we had before starting, Mr. Rutledge rather hurried up my adieux with my new favorite, and it was very ungraciously that he submitted to wait till I had cut a lock from her black mane, and embraced her tenderly for the twentieth time.

"n.o.body is to ride her, remember," I said, as we went out; "only, of course, the man who takes care of her, when it is necessary for exercise."

"Your orders shall be obeyed. Any further instructions that may occur to you in the course of the winter you had better commit to paper and send to me, and I will observe them faithfully."

"Oh, I depend entirely on your integrity; I am confident you will be careful of her. Anyway," I continued, "it's a comfort to know I own anything at Rutledge, and have a sort of claim upon its hospitality still. Ah! how long it will be before I walk up this road with you again, Mr. Rutledge!"

"Maybe not," he answered. "You shall, if you will, come back and make me a visit before many months are over; you shall come back and see how Rutledge looks in her June dress,

"'When all this leafless and uncolored scene, Shall flush into variety again;'

when this dull November sky shall have given place to the warmest summer sunshine, and this hard, frozen earth shall be soft and brown, and roses shall be blooming about this dreary porch, and the garden shall be one wilderness of sweets, and the trees and the lawn shall be all of the richest green. Will you come then, if I send for you?"

I checked my look of delight with a sigh: "you'll forget before that time, I'm afraid. And I don't believe my aunt would let me come."

"You may trust that to me. Haven't you seen that I make people do as I wish them to? Do you not believe that I can induce your aunt to let you come, if I continue to want you, and you continue to want to come?"

"Perhaps so," I said, half incredulously; "but if I remember right, my Aunt Edith is fond of her own way too, is she not?"

"She has that reputation," he answered, with a short laugh. "But _cela ne fait rien_. You shall come if you wish to. Leave it to me, and say nothing about it."

"June is a long way off yet, but it is better than two or three years, the term of my 'honorable banishment,' that you first decreed."

Before we reached the house, the snow-flakes began to descend, large, and soft, and white, floating down in fast-increasing thickness,

"As though life's only call or care Were graceful motion."

"How pretty it makes the landscape!" I said, pausing on the steps. "In among the bare trees there, it makes such a charming variety and lightness, and in a few minutes every twig will be feathered with it, and fences, and roofs, and all. Why can't we wait till we have had one sleigh-ride?"

"This snow will not amount to anything; we should have to wait a long while for a sleigh-ride. It is too early yet for that entertainment; a fortnight hence will be time enough to expect it."

"I think you are mistaken," I said, looking wisely at the clouds, "there's plenty of snow up there, and we shall have enough of it before night, depend upon it. Hadn't we better wait till to-morrow? It would be dreadful to be caught in a heavy snow-storm on the way."

"Have you forgotten your good resolutions of last night?" he said, in a low tone. "There's the carriage."

And without answering a word I ran upstairs. Kitty wrapped me tenderly in my soft shawl, and fastened my fur tippet carefully round my neck.

"Oh, Kitty! you'll smother me!" I cried. But it was something less tangible than tippet or shawl that was smothering me just then, and choking my breath. I gave one glance around the room, thrust a _douceur_ into Kitty's hand, and telling her to bring down my travelling-bag, hurried out without a second look, and downstairs without a second thought, sustained by the determination not to make a baby of myself and cry.

The library was empty; I pa.s.sed on through the hall. Mr. Rutledge was already at the carriage, superintending the packing in it of numerous valises, books, shawls, and packages. Mrs. Roberts, bluer than ever with the cold, stood by him, busy with all the arrangements for his comfort, and looking a shade more cheerless than usual, at the prospect of separation from the master who stood to her lonely old age in the place of son and friend. "I believe she does love him," I thought, and warming toward her at the idea of one redeeming weakness, I walked up to her and said, extending my hand:

"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts. I am afraid you will be glad to get rid of such a troublesome guest; but I a.s.sure you I am very sorry to have given you trouble, and very much obliged to you for the attention you have shown me."

Mrs. Roberts gave me her hand, and answered, without any undignified haste:

"All attentions you have received from me you are very welcome to. I hope never to be wanting in my duty to any guest of Mr. Rutledge's."

"Then you can't regard me with favor for any other cause? Ah, Mrs.

Roberts, I don't know why it is you would never like me, even before I gave you any reason to dislike me."

"Mrs. Roberts will learn to think differently some day, I hope," said Mr. Rutledge, without looking up from his occupation. "Is there anything more to go here?"

There was nothing, the last package was bestowed in its place, the last strap secured. Thomas, who was to accompany his master to New York, stood waiting for us to enter the carriage. Michael was on the box.

"We are all ready, then," and he motioned me to enter.

"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts," he continued. "I believe there is nothing further that I wanted to say to you. Make yourself as comfortable as you can this winter, and let me hear from you occasionally. I shall be back by the latter part of January, however, and I hope everything will go on well till then."

Mrs. Roberts looked very much as if she thought nothing more improbable than his being back in January, but only said:

"Good bye, sir. I shall write."

Mr. Rutledge followed me into the carriage, and shut the door. I bowed again to Mrs. Roberts, and looked out anxiously for Kitty, who had not appeared since she brought down my bag; but at that moment Kitty, in person, was discovered at the other window of the carriage, bringing me a glove she said she had found, which, however, I guessed was only a ruse to get another good bye.

"Ah, Kitty, that's the glove Tigre gnawed, and I never have found the mate to it since that day; of course it's useless, so you'd better keep it to 'remember me by,' as they say. Good bye, again."

Kitty said, "Good bye, Miss," but with so tearful and woebegone a look, withal, that even Mr. Rutledge was touched, and leaning forward, he said:

"Don't take it so very much to heart, my good girl. Your young mistress will be back again, sometime, I hope. And be as obliging and submissive as you can to Mrs. Roberts, Kitty; remember it was my last charge."

And dropping some coins into her hand, he told Michael to drive on. At this moment Tigre rushed whining to the carriage, and I begged he might be allowed to drive to the station, and come back in the carriage. Mr.

Rutledge consenting, Kitty placed the tawny favorite in my arms, and,

"Smack went the whip, Round went the wheels,"

but I have known gladder folks. From the back of the carriage I watched the lessening figures on the piazza, as we drove rapidly down the avenue, and an involuntary sigh escaped me as a winding of the road hid the dark house, with its snow-capped roofs and porticoes, from my sight.

"Good bye till June," I said, regretfully.

"Till June," repeated Mr. Rutledge, pulling Tigre's ears, and making him yelp. "Do you understand, Tigre? This young lady means to come back in June, if she doesn't change her mind. Understand the condition, Tigre.

What do you think of our chance?"

The cur, by way of answer, began gnawing at my tippet.

"Don't destroy that too, sir," I exclaimed. "You've ruined one pair of gloves for me already. Isn't it singular, what could have become of that other one," I continued. "I've searched high and low for it--everywhere, in fact."

"Where did you see it last?" he inquired.

"I cannot remember anything about it, after--after--Tigre and I started on our race. Don't scold," I said, coaxingly, "you know I am going to reform."