The Lady of the Forest: A Story for Girls Page 5

  CHAPTER V.--IN THE FOREST.

  Kitty and Philip ran off together hand in hand. They were about the sameheight, but Kitty's fair, healthy, flushed face showed in strongcontrast to Phil's pallor, and her round and sturdy limbs gave promiseof coming health and beauty; whereas Phil's slight form only suggestedpossible illness, and to a watchful eye would have betokened a shortlife. But the boy was wiry and just now he was strongly excited. It wasdelightful to be in the real country and more than delightful to go outwith Kitty.

  "You are my cousin, aren't you?" said the little maid, favoring him witha full, direct glance.

  "I suppose so," he answered. "Yes, I suppose so. I don't quite know."

  Kitty stamped her foot.

  "Don't say that!" she replied. "I hate people who are not quite sureabout things. I want to have a real boy cousin to play with. Two orthree make-believes came here, but they went away again. Of course weall found them out at once, and they went away. I do trust you are notanother make-believe, Philip. You're very pale and very thin, but I dohope what's of you is real."

  "Oh, yes; what's of me is real enough," said Phil, with a little sigh."Where are you going to take me, Kitty? Into the forest? I want to seethe forest. I wonder will it be as fine as the forest where Ru----I meanwhere a cousin of mine and I used to play?"

  "Oh, have you another cousin besides me? How exciting!"

  "Yes; but I don't want to talk about him. Are we going into the forest?"

  "If you like. You see those trees over there? All that is forest; andthen there is a bit of wild moorland, and then more trees; and there isa pine wood, with such a sweet smell. It's all quite close, and I see itevery day. It isn't very exciting when you see it every day. Your eyesneed not shine like that. You had much better take things quietly,especially as you are such a very thin boy. Aunt Katharine says thinpeople should never get excited. She says it wears them out. Well, ifyou must come into the forest I suppose you must; but would you not likesomething to eat first? I know what we are to have for tea. Shall I tellyou?"

  "Yes," said Phil; "tell me when we have got under the trees; tell mewhen I am looking up through the branches for the birds and thesquirrels. You have not such gay birds as ours, for I watched yours whenI was coming in the train from Southampton; but oh! don't they sing!"

  "You are a very queer boy," said Kitty. "Birds and squirrels and foresttrees, when you might be hearing about delicious frosted cake and jamrolly-polies. Well, take my hand and let's run into the forest; let'sget it over, if we must get it over. I'll take you down to the Avon tofish to-morrow. I like fishing--don't you?"

  "Yes," said Phil. "I like nearly everything. Do you fish with flies orbait?"

  "Oh, with horrid bait! that is the worst of it; but I generally getRobert--one of our grooms--to bait my lines."

  The children were now under the shade of the trees, and Kitty, afterrunning about until she was tired, climbed into one of the branches of awide-spreading beech tree and rocked herself in a very contented mannerbackward and forward. Phil was certainly a very queer little boy, butshe was quite convinced he must be her real true cousin, that he was nota make-believe, that he would stay on at Avonsyde as the heir, and thatshe would always have a companion of her own age to play with.

  "He will get tired of the forest by and by," she said to herself, "andthen he will like best to play with me, and we can fish all daytogether. How jolly that will be! What a good thing it is that he is sonearly my own age, and that he is not older; for if he were he would goevery where with Rachel and be her friend. I should not like that atall," concluded the little girl, with a very selfish though natural sighof satisfaction.

  Presently Phil--having wandered about to his heart's content, havingascertained the color of several birds which sang over his head, havingtreasured up the peculiar quality of their different notes, and havingascertained beyond all doubt that the English forest was quite thequaintest and most lovely place in the world--came back and climbed intothe tree by Kitty's side.

  "I'd like him to see it awfully," he said.

  "Who, Phil?"

  "I can't tell you--that's my secret. Kitty, you'll never find that Ishall get accustomed to the forest-I mean so accustomed that I shan'twant to come here. Oh, never, never! A place like this must always havesomething new to show you. Kitty, can you imitate all the birds' notesyet?"

  "I can't imitate one of them," said Kitty, with an impatient frowncoming between her eyebrows.

  "But I know what I want to be doing, and I only wish you had the samewant."

  "Perhaps I have. What is it?"

  "Oh, no, you haven't. You're just like the goody-goody, awfully learnedboys of the story-book. I do wish you wouldn't go into raptures aboutstupid trees and birds and things!"

  Phil's little pale face flushed.

  "Rupert--I mean--I mean my dearest friend--a boy you know nothing about,Kitty--never spoke about its being goody-goody to love things of thissort, and he is manly if you like. I can't help loving them. But what isyour want, Kitty?"

  "Oh, to have my mouth crammed full of jam rolly-poly! I am so hungry!"

  "So am I too. Let's run back to the house."

  When Philip and Kitty had gone off together for their first exploringexpedition, when the two little strangers to one another had claspedhands and gone out through the open hall-door and down the shady lawnstogether, Rachel had followed them for a few paces.

  She stood still shading her eyes with one hand as she gazed after theirretreating figures; then whistling to an English terrier of the name ofJupiter, she ran round to the stables and encountered one of the grooms.

  "Robert, put the side-saddle on Surefoot and come with me into theforest. It is a lovely evening, and I am going for a long ride."

  Robert, a very young and rather sheepish groom, looked appealingly atthe bright and pretty speaker.

  "My mother is ill, Miss Rachel, and Peter do say as I may go home andsee her. Couldn't you ride another evening, missy?"

  "No, I'm going to ride to-night. I wish to and I'm going; but you neednot come with me; it is quite unnecessary. I should like nothing so wellas having a long ride on Surefoot all alone."

  "But the ladies do say, Miss Rachel, as you are not to ride in theforest by yourself. Oh, if you will go, missy, why, I must just put offseeing my poor mother until to-morrow."

  Rachel stamped her foot impatiently.

  "Nonsense, Robert!" she said. "I am going to ride alone. I will explainmatters to my aunts, so you need not be at all afraid. Put theside-saddle on Surefoot at once!"

  Robert's conscience was easily appeased. He ran off and quickly returnedwith the rough little forest pony, and Rachel, mounting, cantered off.

  She was an excellent rider and had not a scrap of fear in her nature.She entered the forest by the long straight avenue; and Surefoot,delighted to feel his feet on the smooth, velvety sward, trotted alonggayly.

  "Now I am free!" said the girl. "How delightful it is to ride all bymyself. I will go a long, long way this beautiful evening."

  It was a perfect summer's evening, and Rachel was riding through sceneryof exquisite beauty. Birds sang blithely to her as she flew lightly overthe ground; squirrels looked down at her from among the branches of theforest oaks; many wild flowers smiled up at her, and all nature seemedto sympathize with her gay youth and beauty.

  She was a romantic, impulsive child, and lived more or less in a worldof her own imaginings.

  The forest was the happiest home in the world to Rachel; Avonsyde waswell enough, but no place was like the forest itself. She had a strongimpression that it was still peopled by fairies. She devoured all thelegends that Mrs. Newbolt, her aunt's maid, and John Eyre, one of theagisters of the forest, could impart to her. Both these good people hada lurking belief in ghosts and fairies. Eyre swore that he had many andmany a time seen the treacherous little Jack-o'-lanterns. He toldhorrible stories of strangers who were lured into bogs by thesedeceitful little sprites. But Mrs. Newbolt had a far m
ore wonderful andexciting tale to tell than this; for she spoke of a lady who, all ingreen, flitted through the forest--a lady with a form of almost spiritualetherealness, and with such a lovely face that those who were fortunateenough to see her ever after retained on their own countenances a faintreflection of her rare beauty. Rachel had heard of this forest ladyalmost from the first moment of her residence at Avonsyde. She builtmany brilliant castles in the air about her, and she and Kitty mostearnestly desired to see her. Of course they had never yet done so, buttheir belief in her was not a whit diminished, and they never went intothe forest without having a dim kind of hope that they might behold thelady.

  Newbolt said that she appeared to very few, but she admitted that on oneor two occasions of great and special moment she had revealed herself tosome fair dames of the house of Lovel. She never appeared to two peopletogether, and in consequence Rachel always longed to go into the forestalone. She felt excited to-night, and she said to herself more thanonce, "I wonder if I shall see her. She comes on great occasions; surelythis must be a great occasion if the long-looked-for heir has come toAvonsyde. I do wonder if that little boy is the heir!"

  Rachel rode on, quite forgetful of time; the rapid motion and the lovelyevening raised her always versatile spirits. Her cheeks glowed; her darkeyes shone; she tossed back her rebellious curly locks and laughed aloudonce or twice out of pure happiness.

  She intended to go a long way, to penetrate further into the shades ofthe wonderful forest than she had ever done yet; but even she wasunconscious how very far she was riding.

  It is easy to lose one's way in the New Forest, and Rachel, accustomedas she was to all that part which immediately surrounded Avonsyde,presently found herself in a new country. She had left Rufus' Stone farbehind and was now riding down a gentle descent, when something inducedthe adventurous little lady to consult her watch. The hour pointed tosix o'clock. It would be light for a long time yet, for it was quite themiddle of summer, and Rachel reflected that as tea-time was past, and asshe would certainly be well scolded when she returned, she might as wellstay out a little longer.

  "'In for a penny, in for a pound!'" she said. "The aunties will be soangry with me, but I don't care; I mean to enjoy myself to-night. Oh,what a tempting green bank, and what a carpet of bluebells just there tothe right! I must get some. Surefoot shall have a rest and a nibble atsome of the grass, and I'll pick the flowers and sit on the bank for alittle time."

  Surefoot was very well pleased with this arrangement. He instantly, withunerring instinct, selected the juiciest and most succulent herbagewhich the place afforded, and was happy after his fashion. Rachel pickedbluebells until she had her hands full; then seating herself, she beganto arrange them. She had found a small clearing in the forest, and herseat was on the twisted and gnarled roots of a giant oak tree. Her feetwere resting on a thick carpet of moss; immediately before her laybroken and undulating ground, clothed with the greenest grass, with themost perfect fronds of moss, and bestrewn with tiny silvery stems andbits of branches from the neighboring trees. A little further off was agreat foreground of bracken, which completely clothed a very gentleascent, and then the whole horizon was bounded by a semicircle ofmagnificent birch, oak, and beech. Some cows were feeding in thedistance--they wore bells, which tinkled merrily; the doves cooed and thebirds sang; the softest of zephyrs played among the trees; the eveningsun flickered slant-wise through the branches and lay in brightness onthe greensward; and Rachel, who was intensely sensitive to nature,clasped her hands in ecstasy.

  "Oh, it is good of God to make such a beautiful world!" she said,speaking aloud in her enthusiasm; but just then something rivetedRachel's attention. She sprang to her feet, forgot her bluebells, whichfell in a shower around her, and in this fresh interest became utterlyoblivious to the loveliness of the scene. A lady in a plain dark dresswas walking slowly, very slowly, between the trees. She was comingtoward Rachel, but evidently had not seen her, for her eyes were fixedon the pages of an open book, and as she read her lips moved, as thoughshe were learning something to repeat aloud. This part of the forest wasso remote and solitary for it was miles away from any gentleman's seat,that Rachel for a moment was startled.

  "Who can she be?" was her first exclamation; her second was a delighted--

  "Oh, perhaps she is the lady of the forest!"

  Then she exclaimed with vexation:

  "No, no, she cannot be. The lady always wears green and is almosttransparent, and her face is so lovely. This lady is in dark clothes andshe is reading and murmuring words to herself. She looks exactly as ifshe were learning a stupid lesson to say aloud. Oh, I am disappointed! Ihad such a hope she might be the lady of the forest. I wonder where shecan live; there's no house near this. Oh, dear! oh, dear! she is comingthis way; she will pass me. Shall I speak to her? I almost think I will.She seems to have a nice face, although she is not very young and she isnot very beautiful."

  The lady walked slowly on, her eyes still bent on her book, and so ithappened that she never saw the radiant figure of pretty little Racheluntil she was opposite to her. Her quiet, darkly fringed gray eyes werelifted then and surveyed the child first with astonishment; then withcuriosity; then with very palpable agitation, wonder, and distress.

  Rachel came a step nearer and was about to open her lips, when the ladyabruptly closed her book, as abruptly turned on her heel, and walkedrapidly, very rapidly, in the opposite direction away from the child.

  "Oh, stop!" cried Rachel. "I want to speak to you. Who are you? It'svery interesting meeting you here in the very midst of the forest!Please don't walk away so fast! Do tell me who you are! There, you arealmost running, and I can't keep up with you! What a rude forest ladyyou are! Well, I never knew any one so rude before!"

  The lady had indeed quickened her steps, and before Rachel could reachher she had disappeared through a small green-covered porch into a tinyhouse, so clothed with innumerable creepers that at a distance it couldscarcely be distinguished from the forest itself. Rachel stood pantingand indignant outside the door. She had forgotten Surefoot; she hadforgotten everything in the world but this rude lady who would not speakto her.

  Rachel was a very passionate child, and in her first indignation shefelt inclined to pull the bell and insist upon seeing and conversingwith the strange, silent lady. Before she could carry this idea intoexecution the door was opened and a neatly dressed elderly servant cameout.

  "Well, little miss, and what is your pleasure?" she said.

  "I want to see the lady," said Rachel; "she is a very rude lady. I askedher some civil questions and she would not answer."

  The old servant laid her hand on Rachel's arm and drew her a few stepsaway from the bowerlike house.

  "What is your name, little miss?" she said.

  "My name? Rachel Lovel, of course. Don't you know? Everybody knows me inthe forest. I'm Rachel Lovel of Avonsyde, and my pony's name isSurefoot, and I have a sister called Kitty."

  "Well, missy," continued the old woman, "I have no reason at all tomisdoubt your tale, but the forest is a big place, and even the grandestlittle ladies are not known when they stray too far from home. I have nodoubt, missy, that you are Miss Lovel, and I have no doubt also that youhave a kind heart, although you have a hasty tongue. Now, you know, itwas very rude of you to run after my lady when she didn't want to speakto you. My lady was much upset by your following her, and you have donegreat mischief by just being such a curious little body."

  "Mischief, have I?" said Rachel; then she laughed. "But that is quiteimpossible," she added, "for I never even touched the rude lady."

  "You may do mischief, Miss Lovel, by many means, and curiosity is one ofthe most spiteful of the vices. It's my opinion that more mischief canbe laid to curiosity's door than to any other door. From Eve down it wascuriosity did the sin. Now, missy, my lady is lonely and unhappy, andshe don't want no one to know--no one in all the wide world--that shelives in this little wild forest house; and if you tell, if you evertell that yo
u have seen her, or that you know where she lives, why, youwill break the heart of the sweetest and gentlest lady that ever lived."

  "I don't want to break any one's heart," said Rachel, turning pale."What very queer things you say. I don't want to break any one's heart.I think I'll go home now."

  "Not until you have promised me first, Miss Lovel--not until you havepromised me true and faithful."

  "Oh, I'll only tell Kitty and my aunties. I never care to talk tostrangers about things. There's a new little boy come to Avonsyde--a newlittle boy and his mother. Of course I won't say anything to either ofthem, but I never keep secrets from Kitty--never!"

  "Very well, miss; then my lady will have to go away. She is very tiredand not strong, and she has just settled down in this little house,where she wants to rest and to be near--to be in the forest; and if youtell those aunts of yours and your little sister--if you tell anybody inall the wide world--she will have to go away again. We must pack up tonight and we will be off in the morning. We'll have to wander once more,and she'll be sad and ill and lonely; but of course you won't care."

  "What a cruel old woman you are!" said Rachel. "Of course I don't wantanybody to be sad and lonely. I don't want to injure the forest lady,although I cannot make out why she should have to live so secret here.Is she a wicked lady and has she committed a crime?"

  "Wicked?" said the old woman, her eyes flashing. "Ah, missy, that suchwords should drop from your lips, and about her! Are the angels inheaven wicked? Oh, my dear, good, brave lady! No, missy. She has to keepher secret, but it is because of a cruel sin and injustice done to her,not because of any wrong done by her. Well, good-night, miss. I'll sayno more. We must be off, we two, in the morning."

  "No, don't go!" called out Rachel. "Of course I won't tell. If she'ssuch a dear, good lady, I'll respect her and love her and keep hersecret; only I should like to see her and to know her name."

  "All in good time, my dear little missy. Thank God, you will be faithfulto this good and wronged lady."

  "Yes, I'll be very faithful," said Rachel. "Not even to Kitty will Ibreathe one word. And now I must really go home."

  "God bless you, dear little miss--eh, but you're a bonny child. And isthe one you call Kitty as fair to look at?"

  "As fair to look at?" laughed Rachel. "Why, I'm as brown as a nut andKitty is dazzling. Kitty is pink and white, and if you only saw herhair! It's like threads of gold."

  "And the little gentleman, dear?--you spoke of a little gentleman aswell. Is he your brother, love?"

  "My brother?" laughed Rachel. "I have no one but Kitty. I have a motherliving somewhere--she's lost, my mother is, and I'm going all round theworld to look for her when I'm old enough; but I have no brother--I wishI had. Philip Lovel is a little new, strange boy who is going to be heirof Avonsyde. He came to-day with his mother. I don't much like hismother. Now good-night, old woman. I'll keep the good lady's secret mostfaithfully."

  Rachel blew a kiss to the anxious-looking old servant, then ran gaylyback to where she had left Surefoot. In the excitement of the lasthalf-hour she had quite forgotten her withered bluebells. Mounting herpony, she galloped as fast as she could in the direction of Avonsyde. Itwas very late when she got back, but, strange to say, the old aunts wereso much interested in Mrs. Lovel and in Mrs. Lovel's boy that theyforgot to scold her or to remark her absence. She longed intensely totell Kitty all about the thrilling and romantic adventure she had justgone through, but she was a loyal child, and having once passed herword, nothing would induce her to break it. Kitty, too, was taken upwith Philip Lovel, and Rachel, finding she was not wanted, ran up to herbedroom and lost herself in the charms of a fairy tale.