VIII Little Lord Fauntleroy | ||
LORD DORINCOURT had occasion to wear his grim smile many a time as the days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson progressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when it almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that before Lord Fauntleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very tired of his loneliness and his gout and his seventy years. After so long a life of excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable to sit alone even in the most splendid room, with one foot on a gout-stool, and with no other diversion than flying into a rage, and shouting at a frightened footman who hated the sight of him. The old Earl was too clever a man not to know perfectly well that his servants detested him, and that even if he had visitors, they did not come for love of him — though some found a sort of amusement in his sharp, sarcastic talk, which spared no one. So long as he had been strong and well, he had gone from one place to another, pretending to amuse himself, though he had not really enjoyed it; and when his health began to fail, he felt tired of everything and shut himself up at Dorincourt, with his gout and his newspapers and his books. But he could not read all the time, and he became more and more "bored," as he called it. He hated the long nights and days, and he grew more and more savage and irritable. And then Fauntleroy came; and when the Earl saw him, fortunately for the little fellow, the secret pride of the grandfather was gratified at the outset. If Cedric had been a less handsome
The morning the new pony had been tried, the Earl had been so pleased that he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out the pretty creature, which arched its brown, glossy neck and tossed its fine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library and had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He wondered if the boy would show signs of timidity. It was not a very small pony, and he had often seen children lose courage in making their first essay at riding.
Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before, and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by the bridle up and down before the library window.
"He's a well plucked un, he is," Wilkins remarked in the stable afterward with many grins. "It were+n't no trouble to put him up. An' a old un would+n't ha' sat any straighter when he were up. He ses — ses he to me, `Wilkins,' he ses, `am I sitting up straight? They sit up straight at the circus,' ses he. An' I ses, `As straight as a arrer, your lordship!' — an' he laughs, as pleased as could be, an' he ses, `That's right,' he ses, `you tell me if I don't sit up straight, Wilkins!' "
But sitting up straight and being led at a walk were not altogether and completely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather — watching him from the window:
"Can't I go by myself?" he asked; "and can't I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to trot and canter!"
"Do you think you could trot and canter?" said the Earl.
"I should like to try," answered Fauntleroy.
His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his own horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.
"Now," said the Earl, "let him trot."
The next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He found that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony trotted, the less easy it was.
"It j-jolts a g-goo-good deal — do-does+n't it?" he said to Wilkins. "D-does it j-jolt y-you?"
"No, my lord," answered Wilkins. "You'll get used to it in time. Rise in your stirrups."
"I'm ri-rising all the t-time," said Fauntleroy.
He was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably and with many shakes and bounces. He was out of breath and his face grew red, but he held on with all his might, and sat as straight as he could. The Earl could see that from his window. When the riders came back within speaking distance, after they had been hidden by the trees a few minutes, Fauntleroy's hat was off, his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he was still trotting manfully.
"Stop a minute!" said his grandfather. "Where's your hat?"
Wilkins touched his. "It fell off, your lordship," he said, with evident enjoyment. "Would+n't let me stop to pick it up, my lord."
"Not much afraid, is he?" asked the Earl dryly.
"Him, your lordship!" exclaimed Wilkins. "I should+n't say as he knowed what it meant. I've taught young gen'lemen to ride afore, an' I never see one stick on more determinder."
"Tired?" said the Earl to Fauntleroy. "Want to get off?"
"It jolts you more than you think it will," admitted his young lordship frankly. "And it tires you a little, too; but I don't want to get off. I want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath I want to go back for the hat."
The cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach Fauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have taught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony trotted off again toward the avenue, a faint color crept up in the fierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a pleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And he sat and watched quite eagerly until the sound of the horses' hoofs returned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a faster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was still off; Wilkins was carrying it for him; his cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.
"There!" he panted, as they drew up, "I c-cantered. I did+n't do it as well as the boy on Fifth Avenue, but I did it, and I staid on!"
He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a day passed in which the country people did not see them out together, cantering gayly on the highroad or through the green lanes. The children in the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle, and the young lord would snatch off his cap and swing it at them, and shout, "Hullo! Good-morning!" in a very unlordly manner, though with great heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children, and once Wilkins came back to the castle with a story of how Fauntleroy had insisted on dismounting near the village school, so that a boy who was lame and tired might ride home on his pony.
"An' I'm blessed," said Wilkins, in telling the story at the stables, — "I'm blessed if he'd hear of anything else! He would+ n't let me get down, because he said the boy might+n't feel comfortable on a big horse. An' ses he, `Wilkins,' ses he, `that boy's lame and I'm not, and I want to talk to him, too.' And up the lad has to get, and my lord trudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets, and his cap on the back of his head, a-whistling and talking as easy as you please! And when we come to the cottage, an' the boy's mother come out all in a taking to see what's up, he whips off his cap an' ses he, `I've brought your son home, ma'am,' ses he, `because his leg hurt him, and I don't think that stick is enough for him to lean on; and I'm going to ask my grandfather to have a pair of crutches made for him.' An' I'm blessed if the woman was+n't struck all of a heap, as well she might be! I thought I should 'a' hex-plodid, myself!"
When the Earl heard the story he was not angry, as Wilkins had been half afraid that he would be; on the contrary, he laughed
"I said your compliments," he explained to the Earl when he returned to the carriage. "You did+n't tell me to, but I thought perhaps you forgot. That was right, was+n't it?"
And the Earl laughed again, and did not say it was not. In fact, the two were becoming more intimate every day, and every day Fauntleroy's faith in his lordship's benevolence and virtue increased. He had no doubt whatever that his grandfather was the most amiable and generous of elderly gentlemen. Certainly, he himself found his wishes gratified almost before they were uttered; and such gifts and pleasures were lavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost bewildered by his own possessions. Apparently, he was to have everything he wanted, and to do everything he wished to do. And though this would certainly not have been a very wise plan to pursue with all small boys, his young lordship bore it amazingly well. Perhaps, notwithstanding his sweet nature, he might have been somewhat spoiled by it, if it had not been for the hours he spent with his mother at Court Lodge. That "best friend" of his watched over him over closely and tenderly. The two had many long talks together, and he never went back to the Castle with her kisses on his cheeks without carrying in his heart some simple, pure words worth remembering.
There was one thing, it is true, which puzzled the little fellow very much. He thought over the mystery of it much oftener than
"Up the lad has to get, and my lord trudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets."
[Description: Color image of a black and white line-drawing showing Lord Fauntleroy walking to the right (from the viewer's perspective) of his own pony, ridden by the lame boy to whom Lord Fauntleroy offered a ride. The pony, the boy, and Lord Fauntleroy appear to be approaching the viewer almost head on from the center of the page. Wilkins appears further down the road in the right background. A windmill stands in the left distance. The background landscape features gently rolling hills and shrubs; a thin tree stands to the left. ]"That is a present from you to your mother," the Earl said abruptly. "She can not go walking about the country. She needs a carriage. The man who drives will take charge of it. It is a present from you."
Fauntleroy's delight could but feebly express itself. He could scarcely contain himself until he reached the lodge. His mother was gathering roses in the garden. He flung himself out of the little brougham and flew to her.
"Dearest!" he cried, "could you believe it? This is yours! He says it is a present from me. It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in!"
He was so happy that she did not know what to say. She could not have borne to spoil his pleasure by refusing to accept the gift even though it came from the man who chose to consider himself her enemy. She was obliged to step into the carriage, roses and all, and let herself be taken to drive, while Fauntleroy told her
The very next day after that, Fauntleroy wrote to Mr. Hobbs. He wrote quite a long letter, and after the first copy was written, he brought it to his grandfather to be inspected.
"Because," he said, "it's so uncertain about the spelling. And if you'll tell me the mistakes, I'll write it out again."
This was what he had written:
VIII Little Lord Fauntleroy | ||