"No," said Phil, with sudden energy. "I cannot tell you what she said."

"You cannot tell me?"

"No. I took the lady by surprise and she let out some of her secrets--not all, but some. It would not be fair to tell them to any one else. I asked her to walk with me, and she knew that you were watching. Now, Rachel, I am quite well again, as well as ever. Shall we go back to the other children?"

Rachel rose slowly to her feet.

"I hate secrets," she said, "and the very air seems full of them sometimes. You have lots of secrets, and my aunts have secrets, and the lady of the forest has a secret, and there is a secret about my mother, for I know she is not dead and yet I never see her. These secrets are enough to starve my heart. Phil, how soon would a girl like me be supposed to be grown up?"

"Oh, Rachel, how can I tell?"

"I shall be thirteen in May and I am tall. When I am fifteen--that is, in two years' time--I shall begin to go round the world looking for my mother. I don't intend to wait any longer. When I am fifteen I shall begin to go."

"In Australia girls are nearly grown up at that age," said Phil, who was thinking of Gabrielle. "Now, Rachel, let us go back to the others."

The others were getting impatient. They had played hide-and-seek, and hunted for squirrels, and climbed trees, and quarreled and made it up again, until all their resources had come to an end; and when Rachel and Phil made their appearance they found that Robert had packed up the remains of the picnic, and that Clementina and Abby had already mounted their ponies, preparatory to riding home. Robert was leading up the other ponies as the two missing children appeared.

Rachel's mind was still a good deal preoccupied, and it was not until she was preparing to mount her own pony that she discovered that Clementina had secured Ruby and was now seated comfortably on his back.

"Oh, Clementina, it is not safe for you to ride Ruby," she called out at once. "He's only just broken in and he's full of spirit."

"Thank you," replied Clementina. "I prefer riding horses with spirit. I would not have another ride on that slow little creature, Surefoot, for the world."

"But indeed that is not the reason," said Rachel, who felt herself, she scarcely knew why, both softened and subdued. "It is that Ruby is not safe. I am the first girl who has ever been on his back. He knows me and will do what I tell him, but I am sure it is dangerous for you to ride him. Is it not dangerous, Robert, for Miss Marmaduke to ride Ruby?"

called out Rachel to the groom.

Robert came up and surveyed the spirited little horse and the young rider critically.

"If Miss Marmaduke don't whip him, and if she humors him a good bit and don't set him off in a canter, why, then no harm may be done," he said.

"Ruby's fresh, miss, and have a good deal of wild blood in him, and I only broke him in for Miss Rachel a fortnight back."

Clementina's color had risen very high during this discussion.

"I presume," she said in an insolent tone, "that a pupil of Captain Delacourt's can ride any horse that a pupil of one of the grooms at Avonsyde can manage! I'm sorry you're so disobliging as to grudge me your horse, Rachel. I'll just ride on in front now, and you all can follow me when you are ready."

She turned Ruby's head as she spoke and rode away under the forest trees.

"If she gives Ruby a taste of the whip she'll repent of all her proud airs," muttered Robert. "Now, young ladies, you had better mount and get under way. I suppose, Miss Rachel, that that 'ere young lady knows the right road home?"

"Hadn't I better get on Brownie and ride after her?" asked Phil.

"No, sir; no. Ruby couldn't bear horses' hoofs a-galloping after him. It would set him off mad like, and there wouldn't be a hope for Miss Marmaduke. No; the only thing now is to trust that the young lady won't touch Ruby with the whip and that she knows the way home."

The other children mounted without any more discussion, and the ride home was undertaken with a certain sense of depression.

No sign of Clementina could be seen, and when they reached the stables at Avonsyde neither she nor Ruby had put in an appearance.

CHAPTER XX.--PUNISHED.

Clementina was a spoiled child, and in consequence was as disagreeable and as full of herself as such children are apt to be. She was neither beautiful nor clever; she had no outward gifts to counterbalance her imperious airs and selfish ways; consequently she was only popular with her parents and with herself.

The Marmadukes were very rich people, and although Clementina had no real friends, she had many toadies--girls who praised her for the accomplishments she did not possess, for the beauty which had been denied her, and for the talents and cleverness which she knew nothing whatever about. Clementina both believed in and appreciated flattery.

Flattery made her feel comfortable; it soothed her vanity and fed her self-esteem. It was not at all difficult to persuade her that she was clever, beautiful, and accomplished. But of all her acquirements there was none of which she was so very proud as of her riding. She was no coward, and she rode fairly well for a town girl. She had always the advantage of the best horses, the most stylish habits, and the most carefully equipped groom to follow her. On horseback her so-called friends told her she looked superb; therefore on horseback she greatly liked to be.

Rachel's words that morning and Rachel's unconcealed contempt had stung Clementina's vanity to the quick. She was quite determined to show this little n.o.body, this awkward country girl, what proper riding meant; and she galloped off on Ruby with her heart beating high with pride, anger, and a sense of exultation; she would canter lightly away in the direction of the Avonsyde stables, and be ready to meet Rachel haughty and triumphant when she returned wearily home on that dull little pony, Surefoot.

Surefoot, however, was not a dull pony. He was extremely gentle and docile and affectionate, and although he hated the rider he had on his back that morning, and resented to the bottom of his honest little heart the indignity of being whipped by her, still one sound from Rachel's voice was sufficient to restrain him and to keep him from punishing the young lady who chose to ride him in the manner she deserved. Clementina had ridden Surefoot and he had instantly broken into a canter, but at the sound of Rachel's voice he had moderated his speed Clementina quite believed that Surefoot had obeyed her firm hand; and now, as she galloped away on Ruby, she laughed at the fears expressed for her safety by Rachel and Robert, the groom.

"They're jealous," she said to herself; "they're both of them jealous, and they don't want me to have the only decent horse of the party. Oh, yes, Ruby, my fine fellow, you shall have a touch of the whip presently.

I'm not afraid of you."

She felt for her little silver-mounted riding-whip as she spoke and lightly flicked Ruby's ears with it.

Back went the ears of the half-trained little horse at once, lightning glances seemed to flash from his red-brown eyes, and in a moment he had taken to his heels and was away.

His movement almost resembled flying, and for a little time Clementina persuaded herself that she enjoyed it. This was riding indeed! this was a gallop worth having! What splendid use she could make of it with her school-friends by and by. These were her first sensations, but they were quickly followed by others less pleasurable. Ruby seemed to be going faster and faster; his legs went straight before him; he rushed past obstacles; he disdained to take the slightest notice of Clementina's feeble little attempts to pull him in. She lost her breath, and with it in a great measure her self-control. Were they going in the right direction? No; she was quite sure they were not; she had never seen that wide expanse of common; she had never noticed that steep descent; she had never observed that gurgling, rushing avalanche of water; and--oh, good G.o.d! Ruby was rushing to it. She screamed and attempted violently to pull him in; he shook his head angrily and flew forward faster than before; for Ruby was not of the gentle nature of Surefoot, and he could not forgive even the very slight indignity which Clementina had offered him. The wretched girl began to scream loudly.

"I shall be killed! I shall be killed! Oh! will no one save me?" she screamed.

Her cries seemed to madden Ruby. He drew up short, put his head between his legs, and with an easy movement flung Clementina off his back on to the ground. The next moment he himself was out of sight.

Clementina found herself sitting in the middle of a bog--a bog not deep enough to drown her, but quite wet enough, quite uncomfortable enough, to soak through her riding-habit and to render her thoroughly wretched.

At first, when Ruby had dislodged her from his back, her sensations were those of relief; then she was quite certain every bone in her body was broken; then she was equally convinced that the slow and awful death of sinking in a bog awaited her. She was miles from home; there was not a soul in sight; and yet, try as she would, she could not raise herself even to a standing position, for the treacherous ground gave way whenever she attempted to move.

Her fall had shaken her considerably, and for a time she sat motionless, trying to recover her breath and wondering if arms and legs were all smashed.

"Oh, what a wicked girl Rachel is!" she said at last. "What right had she to go out on a wild horse like that? She must have done it for a trick; she must have done it on purpose; she meant me to ride Ruby coming home, and so she tantalized me and tried to rouse my spirit.

Margaret and Jessie Dawson say that I am just full of spirit, and I never can brook that sneering way, particularly from a mere child like Rachel. Well, well, she's punished now, for I shall probably die of this. If all my bones aren't broken, and I firmly believe they are, and if I don't sink in this horrid bog--which I expect I shall--I'm safe to have rheumatic fever and to die of it, and then what will Rachel do?

She'll never know an easy moment again as long as she lives. She'll be sorry for the tricks she played me when she thinks of me lying in my early grave. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall I do? what shall I do?"

Poor Clementina threw up her hands, by so doing fastening herself more firmly in the odious bog, and burst into a loud wailing cry. She was cold and wet now, the excitement of her wild race was over, and as the moments flew on, lengthening themselves into half-hours and hours, she became thoroughly frightened. Oh, how awful if the night should overtake her while she sat there! And yet what more likely? for not a soul had pa.s.sed the place since her accident. As her anger cooled and her fright increased, several p.r.i.c.kings of that dull conscience of hers smote the unhappy girl. After all, was Rachel to blame for what had happened? Had she not begged and even implored of her not to ride Ruby? Had not Robert spoken freely of what would happen if she did so? Oh, if only she had listened to their voices! if only she had not been so self-confident!

She pictured them all safe and sound now at home at Avonsyde. She imagined them sitting in the pleasant armory chatting over the day's adventures and most likely forgetting all about her. Abby and the boys, if occupied over any exciting game, would be certain to forget her; little Kitty, to whom she had always been specially cross, would most likely rejoice in her absence; Rachel, if she had time to give her a thought, would be sure to be possessed with a sense of triumph; and Phil--ah! well, somehow or other Phil was different from other boys and girls. Phil had a look in his eyes, Phil had a way about him which Clementina recognized as belonging to the rare and beautiful spirit of unselfishness. Phil's small, thin, white face was ever and always alive and glowing with sympathy; his eyes would darken and expand at the mere mention of anybody's trouble, and again that little sensitive face would sparkle and glow with delight over anybody's joy. Clementina, sitting now in the middle of the bog, the most lonely and wretched girl alive, could not help feeling comforted as she thought of Phil; it was more than probable that if all the others forgot her Phil might remember.

While Clementina was waiting in a state of absolute despair matters were not so hopeless for her as she supposed. The children when they reached Avonsyde gave an instant alarm, and steps were at once taken to search for the missing girl. But it is one thing to be lost in the forest and another thing to be found. Ruby had taken Clementina in the opposite direction from Avonsyde, and when she was submerged in the bog she was many miles away. Robert, shaking his head and muttering that a willful girl must come to grief, and that it would be well if they ever saw Miss Marmaduke alive again, went off to saddle a fresh horse to go in search of her. Other people also started on the same errand; and Phil, whose pale little face was all aglow with excitement, rushed into the stables, and securing a horse, mounted it and rode away after the others. The boy was a splendid rider, having been accustomed to mounting all kinds of steeds from his babyhood; but he was tired now, and neither Miss Griselda nor his mother would have allowed him to go had they known anything about it. But the elder members of the family were all away, and the children and servants were only acting on their own responsibility.

Phil soon caught up Robert, and the two trotted together side by side.

"I'm quite certain I saw Ruby turning to the left after he went down that steep bank," said Phil.

"Then if he did he made for the bog and the waterfall as likely as not,"

said Robert.

"Oh, Robert, you don't suppose Clementina has been drowned in one of the bogs?" exclaimed Phil in an accent of terror. "You don't, you can't suppose that?"

The man favored the boy with a queer glance.