Volume Ii Part 8 (2/2)
ain't they as bright as diamonds?... Well, Agnes, you have had your luncheon, I suppose, with the dear girls, and now you will be ready to go shopping with me. We are going into Bristol, and I will take you with us.”
Agnes listened to her doom in silence, and no more thought of appealing from it than the poor criminal who listens to his sentence from the bench; but Mr. Stephenson turned an imploring look on Mrs. Peters, which spoke so well what he wished to express, that, she exerted herself so far as to say, ”We had hoped, Mrs. Barnaby, that you meant to have spared Agnes to us for the rest of the day, and we shall be much obliged if you will leave her with us.”
”You are always very kind, dear Margaret,” returned the widow, ”but I really want Agnes just now.... She shall come to you, however, some other time.... Good-b'ye! good-b'ye!--we have no time to lose.... Come, Agnes, let's be off.”
A silent look was all the leave-taking that pa.s.sed between Agnes and her greatly annoyed friends. Mrs. Barnaby took her arm under her own, and as soon as they quitted the shop bestowed the other on Major Allen; she was in high spirits, which found vent in a loud laugh as soon as they had turned the corner.
”What a stuck-up fellow that great tall Colonel is, Major Allen,” said she. ”Do you know anything of him?... If I am not greatly mistaken, he is as proud as Lucifer.”
”I a.s.sure you, if he is proud, my dear madam, it must be a pride of the very lowest and vilest kind, merely derived from the paltry considerations of family and fortune; for, _entre nous_, he is very far from having been a distinguished officer. The Duke of Wellington, indeed, has always been most ridiculously partial to him; but you,”
lowering his voice, ”you are a pretty tolerable judge of what _his_ good opinion is worth.”
”Yes, yes, Major.... I shall never be taken in there again.... Why, Agnes, how you drag, child! I shall be tired to death before I get to Bristol if you walk so.”
”Will the young lady take my other arm?” said the Major.
”Thank you, dear Major!... You are very kind. Go round, Agnes, and take the Major's arm.”
”No, I thank you, aunt; I do not want any arm. I will walk beside you, if you please, without taking hold of you at all.”
”Nonsense, child!... That will look too particular, Major,” ... said the widow, turning to him; upon which, without waiting further parley, Major Allen dropped the arm he held, and gaily placed himself between the two ladies, saying, ”Now then, fair ladies, I have an arm for each.”
Agnes felt the greatest possible longing to run away; but whether it would have strengthened into a positive resolution to do so, upon once more feeling the touch of the Major's hand, which upon her retreating he very vigorously extended towards her, it is impossible to say, for at that moment the sound of a rapidly-advancing pair of boots was heard on the pavement behind them, and in the next Mr. Stephenson was at her side. He touched his hat to Mrs. Barnaby, and then addressing Agnes said, ”If you are going to walk to Bristol, I hope you will permit me to accompany you, ... for I am going there too.”
Agnes very frankly replied, ”Thank you!” and without a moment's hesitation accepted the arm he offered.
”I am sure you are very obliging, Mr. Stephenson,” said Mrs. Barnaby, ”and we shall certainly be able to walk with much greater convenience. I think you two had better go before, and then we can see that you don't run off, you know.”
This lively sally was followed by a gay little t.i.ttering on the part both of the Major and the lady, as they stood still for Mr. Stephenson and the suffering Agnes to pa.s.s them.
The young man seemed to have lost all his vivacity: he spoke very little, and even that little had the air of being uttered because he felt obliged to say something. Poor Agnes was certainly in no humour for conversation, and would have rejoiced in his silence, had it not made her feel that whatever might be the motive for his thus befriending her, he derived no pleasure from it. Ere they had walked a mile, however, an accident occurred which effectually roused him from the dejection that appeared to have fallen upon his spirits. A herd of bullocks met them on the road, one of which, over-driven and irritated by a cur that worried him, darted suddenly from the road up to the path, and made towards them with its horns down, and its tail in the air. On seeing this, the young man seized Agnes in his arms, and sprang with her down the bank into the road. The animal, whose object was rather to leave an enemy behind him, than to do battle with any other, pa.s.sed on towards the Major and his fair companion, who were at a considerable distance behind, leaving Agnes trembling indeed, and somewhat confused, but quite unhurt, and full of grat.i.tude for the prompt activity that had probably saved her.
As soon as she had in some degree recovered her composure, she turned back to ascertain how her aunt had fared, Mr. Stephenson a.s.siduously attending her, and they presently came within sight of a spectacle that, had any mirth been in them, must have drawn it forth.
Major Allen, by no means approving the style in which the animal appeared inclined to charge them, had instantly perceived, as Mr.
Stephenson had done before, that the only means of getting effectually out of its way was by jumping down the bank, which at that point was considerably higher than it was a few hundred yards farther on; nevertheless, though neither very light nor very active, he might have achieved the descent well enough had he been alone. But what was he to do with Mrs. Barnaby? She uttered a piercing cry, and threw herself directly upon his bosom, exclaiming, ”Save me, Major!--save me!”
In this dilemma the Major proved himself an old soldier. To shake off the lady, he felt (in every sense of the word) was quite impossible; but there was no reason that she should stifle him; and therefore grasping her with great ardour, he half carried, half pushed her towards the little precipice, and skilfully placing himself so that, if they fell, she should fall first, he cried out manfully, ”Now spring!” And spring they did, but in such a sort, that the lady measured her length in the dust, a circ.u.mstance that greatly broke the Major's fall; for, although he made a considerable effort to roll beyond her, he finally pitched with his knees full upon her, thus lessening his descent very materially.
When the young people reached them, they had both recovered their equilibrium, but not their composure. Major Allen was placed with one knee in the dust, and on the other supporting Mrs. Barnaby, who, with her head reclining on his shoulder, seemed to have a very strong inclination to indulge herself with a fainting fit. Her gay dress was lamentably covered with dust, her feathers broken and hanging distressingly over her eyes, and her whole appearance, as well as that of the hero who supported her, forlorn and dejected in the extreme.
”Are you hurt, aunt?” said Agnes, approaching her.
”Hurt!... am I hurt?... Gracious Heaven! what a question! If my life be spared, I shall consider it little short of a miracle.... Oh! Major Allen,” she continued with a burst of sobbing, ”where should I have now been ... but for you?...”
”Trampled or tossed, Mrs. Barnaby ... trampled or tossed to death decidedly,” replied the Major, not wis.h.i.+ng to lessen her sense of obligation, yet restrained by the presence of witnesses from expressing his feelings with all the ardour he might otherwise have shown.
”Most true!--most true!” she replied. ”Never shall I be able to express the grat.i.tude I feel!”
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