A bankrupt heart, Vol. 3 (of 3)

But as she looked at Nell, Nora saw a stain of blood showing through the sleeve of her light print dress.

‘But you are hurt. You are bleeding!’ she exclaimed with horror. ‘Oh, I am so sorry. What can I do for you?’

Nell regarded the blood-stain with calm indifference.

‘It is nothing, my lady. I presume I am speaking to Lady Bowmant,’ she added, with a courtesy that struck Nora as uncommon with her class.

‘Oh, no, I am not Lady Bowmant. I am only one of her visitors. I was driving with her, and she went into a cottage and left me with the carriage, and these two little brutes ran away with me. But how am I to get them home? I dare not take the reins again for my life. How far is it to the Hall?’

‘Oh, the Hall is only round the corner, madam,’ answered Nell; ‘I would help you to lead them, but--’ Here she hesitated, not knowing how to proceed; then, as if a sudden thought had struck her, she stood on tip-toe and looked over the hedge and called loudly, ‘Tom.’

‘Yes, miss,’ replied a hedger coming at her call.

‘Come round here at once and lead these horses up to the Hall for this lady. They are beyond her control.’ Then addressing Nora, she continued--‘You had better get in again, madam, and this man will see you safely to the Hall. You will want to send the carriage back for Lady Bowmant.’

‘Oh, yes, indeed. What will she think of my disappearing in this extraordinary manner? Thank you so much. I don’t know what I should have done without your assistance. But I am so troubled about your arm. I am sure you are horribly hurt,’ said Nora, as she mounted into the dog-cart.

‘Please don’t say anything more about it,’ replied Nell; ‘at the worst it will only be a bruise; you need not be afraid now, madam. This man is rough, but he understands horses, and is very steady.’

And so saying Nell slipped through a break in the hedge and was gone.

Lady Ilfracombe arrived safely at the Hall, and a groom was at once despatched to pick up Lady Bowmant, whom he met half-way between old Farley’s cottage and the house, laughing heartily to herself over the disappearance of her friend and her carriage, having made a shrewd guess that Beau and Belle had taken her home, whether she would or not. The occurrence formed the chief topic of conversation at the luncheon-table, and Nora was full of the beautiful country girl she had met and who had shown so much courage in stopping the runaway cobs.

‘I must make her some little acknowledgment of the service she rendered me, mustn’t I, Ilfracombe?’ she asked her husband. ‘I might have been killed, if it hadn’t been for her, and, or still worse, smashed Lady Bowmant’s pretty trap.’

‘Of course you must, darling,’ replied the earl. ‘We can never repay her for what she did for us.’

‘But I don’t know her name!’ exclaimed Nora, ‘though I suppose she lives somewhere over the way, because she ordered the old hedger to lead the cobs home, as if he were her servant. Oh, she is such a pretty young woman. Her face is perfectly lovely. I think it was because I was so occupied gazing at her, that I forgot to ask her name.’

‘A very pretty girl,’ repeated Sir Archibald. ‘I think that must be one of the Llewellyns. They’re the prettiest girls for a good many miles round Usk. Isn’t that the case, Dolly?’ he said, addressing his wife.

‘Well, I’ve only seen the married one,’ she replied, but I know they bear that reputation. The father is a very handsome old man.’

At the name of Llewellyn, Lady Ilfracombe looked up quickly, and the earl and Jack Portland exchanged glances with each other.

‘What is there in that to surprise you?’ demanded their host, mistaking the meaning of their looks. ‘Wales is rather celebrated for beauty, you know; at least we won’t allow that England, Ireland or Scotland can hold a candle to us in that respect.’

Ilfracombe did not seem disposed to answer, so Jack Portland took upon himself to be spokesman.

‘I have not the slightest doubt of your superiority, Sir Archibald,’ he said, ‘and was not the least surprised to hear you say so. I only thought I had heard the name before.’

‘What! of Llewellyn? I should be surprised if you had not. We are all Llewellyns, or Owens, or Lewises, or Thomases in Wales. It’s one of the commonest names here. I’ve about half a dozen Llewellyns amongst my tenants. But this man’s daughters are really uncommonly handsome. Fine tall girls, with splendidly cut features. By Jove! it’s a pleasure to go to the farm only to catch a glimpse of one of them.’

‘And that’s why you’re always going over there then,’ cried Lady Bowmant. ‘I’ve caught you at last, my gentleman. No more Panty-cuckoo Farm for you. I’ll take good care of that.’

‘Panty-cuckoo Farm! Is that where my rustic beauty lives?’ exclaimed Nora. ‘What a fanciful name! What does it mean? Panty-cuckoo.’

‘The dell of the cuckoo, or the cuckoo’s dell,’ replied Lady Bowmant. ‘Yes, isn’t it pretty? It’s the farm just across the road, where Mr Portland and Mr Lennox sleep. Mrs Llewellyn is a dear old woman. I always go to her in any perplexity. She supplies us with all the extra eggs and chickens and butter we may want. Lady Ilfracombe, you should see her dairy; it’s a perfect picture, and everything about the farm is so quaint and old, and so faultlessly clean and neat. She and her husband are quite model tenants. I always take my friends to pay them a visit.’

After luncheon, when the rest of the party had separated to pursue their own devices, Nora crept after her husband.

‘Ilfracombe,’ she whispered, ‘supposing this should be one of her sisters?’

‘Whose? What are you talking about?’ he said rather curtly.

‘You know. The Miss Llewellyn you have told me of.’

‘What will you get into your head next? What likelihood is there of such a thing? Who ever said she had any sisters, or came from Usk? Didn’t you hear Sir Archibald say the place was peopled with Llewellyns? Please don’t get any absurd fancies into your head. The name is distasteful to me as it is? I wish we had not heard it. Now, I suppose there will be a grand fuss made of the service this girl rendered you, and the whole family will be paraded out for our special benefit. You have been a good friend to me in this business, Nora. Get me out of this unnecessary annoyance, if you can.’

‘Of course, I will,’ replied his wife readily. ‘You sha’n’t be bothered if I can help it, Ilfracombe. You were a dear, good boy to make a clean breast to me of the matter, and I’ll see you don’t suffer for it. I must remunerate the young woman or her parents for what she did this morning, so I’ll just go to the farm this afternoon by myself and get it quietly over. How much should I offer her? What do you think? Will five pounds be enough?’

‘I think so; but that is as you feel about it. But Nora, darling, you needn’t mention our names, need you? We shall be gone probably before they have a chance of finding out anything about us, and though I don’t suppose there is any chance of their being related to--to--_her_--yet if they should be--you understand?’

Lady Ilfracombe went up to her husband and kissed his anxious face.

‘I understand,’ she replied, and then left the room. There was a slight summer shower that afternoon, and the rest of the Hall party had already settled themselves to spend it indoors. A noisy set were occupied in the billiard-room, chatting and laughing over their game, and the more respectable scandalmongers were working, reading, and taking away their neighbours’ characters in the seclusion of the drawing-room. Lady Ilfracombe donned a large straw hat, and, taking an umbrella in her hand, set forth for Panty-cuckoo Farm without observation. She soon found her way through the white gate, and down the hilly slope, and found the latched wicket that guarded the bricked pathway up to the house. As soon as she placed her hand upon the latch, Mrs Llewellyn, as was her custom at the approach of any visitors, came quickly forward to save her the trouble of opening it, and give her a welcome to Panty-cuckoo Farm.

‘Walk in, my lady,’ she exclaimed cordially. ‘This way, if you please,’ and ushering Nora into the parlour she dusted a chair with her apron, and set it before her.

‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ cried Nora enthusiastically, as she gazed around her. ‘What dear old carved oak. Why, it must be centuries old; and what beautiful china. Don’t leave me here alone, pray, or I shall steal half your things. I suppose you are Mrs Llewellyn. Well, you have the very jolliest room I ever saw in my life.’

Mrs Llewellyn was completely won over by this praise. She was very proud, as has been said before, of her room and oak and china, and nothing pleased her better than to see them appreciated.

‘Many have told me so before, ma’am; but I am glad you like them. My husband and I have been offered pounds and pounds sometimes for these very things by the ladies and gentlemen who have visited Usk; but we could never make up our minds to sell them. They belonged to our great-great-grandparents, and there they will be till our time comes to leave them behind us for the benefit of our daughters.’

‘Your daughters, Mrs Llewellyn. That reminds me of the purpose of my visit to you. A young woman, whom I believe to be one of your daughters, did me a very great service this morning. She stopped a pair of runaway horses for me, and saved, perhaps, my life.’

‘Ay, that was my eldest girl. She told us of it; but it is nothing to make a fuss about, ma’am. Country girls are more used to do such things than town ladies. There’s not a girl in Usk but what would do her best to stop a horse. I hope you weren’t hurt at all yourself, ma’am?’