Patsy by Samuel Rutherford Crockett (mobi reader .TXT) 📕

see him, and the Princess had been kind to him in a quiet way, which yet could by no means be called enthusiastic.
"My old playmate," Patsy had said in introducing him to her hostess.
"And my tyrant ever since I can remember," Louis had added. "I cannot remember ever once being allowed my own way in all the years when we played together."
"There was a family feud," said Patsy, explaining the situation, "that drew us together. Because, you see, each was forbidden to the other. So we said, 'A plague on both your houses,' and found out new nests under more remote trees where we could meet and talk without fear of being caught."
This romantic tale of their early friendships did not appear to be quite to the taste of the Princess Elsa, for she turned away and left them to recall the past at their leisure. She had other views for her little friend than to send her back whence she came as the wife of a mere captain of horse, even though he might be the heir to an earldom in the hungry North.
"Louis," said Patsy, as soon as they were alone, "what would you do if I told you that your uniform became you?"
"I know what I should like to do!" retorted the young man.
"Well, what?" Patsy did not shun the danger.
"Kiss you for saying so," said the daring youth.
"See what it is to wear the king's colours even for a week," Patsy murmured reflectively; "it gives even Louis Raincy a more wholesome opinion of himself. I am glad. I cannot quite yield to the suggestion, but I respect you more for having made it. For the present be content with this."
And she gave him her hand to kiss, which he executed without any of the grace which the Prince would have put into the ceremony, and with a grumble that, though small fish were reported better than none, this was a very meagre spratling indeed.
"Think," said Patsy, mischievously, "what a change since our last afternoon in the Nest under the beech-tree. That very hand which you kissed so unwillingly just now, boxed the ears of this officer of his Majesty's Blue Dragoons."
"I prefer the old style even if my ears were boxed," said Louis. "I wish you had never gone away and that I had followed my grandfather's advice and stayed beside you."
"Nonsense," said Patsy, "you will change your mind very shortly. How many girls have you fallen in love with already? I hear you go to the Regent's entertainments. Well, you will find there sweetmeats for all tastes, some perhaps a little spoilt by keeping!"
"You know very well, Patsy, that I shall never care about any other girl than yourself. I never have and I never shall!"
"I bet you six pairs of Limerick gloves that you will not be able to say as much for yourself in six months," cried Patsy.
"Done with you, Patsy," said Louis, "and you may as well pay now, for I am not going to change my mind."
"That I shall wait and see. But beware, I shall have the best of information. We are not of the Duke's party, and do not go to their entertainments, but we hear all that goes on nevertheless."
"I only go because of my service," said Louis, somewhat dishonestly; "the Duke of York, who is once more Commander-in-Chief, has put me on his staff."
"Ah," said Patsy, unkindly, "like master, like man! It is a good proverb."
"Patsy," mourned Louis, leaning forward with his head between his hands in a very unmartial manner, "you know better than that. You forget the White Loch and our ride home to Castle Raincy. You went with me because you trusted me. You took my word about my grandfather liking you to come to him for safety, and now you--you treat me as if I were a child."
"A child--why, so you are--a dear, nice boy, and I love you, and see, I will pat you on the head!"
The officer of his Majesty instantly put himself into such a boyish posture of defence that Patsy laughed.
"So you don't want to be patted on the head--well, then, it shan't! But all the same I have not forgotten--neither what you did, nor what was done for us both by your comrade of the White Water--by the way, have you heard from him lately?"
"Not I," said Louis, almost fiercely, "but I make no doubt that you have! You would not offer to pat Stair Garland on the head? He is a man, you know--you said it yourself."
"Louis," said Patsy, "you are not acting up to your uniform. I have no conventions with you, and you have no claim to know with whom it may please me to correspond--"
Louis rose to his feet with a very pale face, but before he had time to put his anger into words, a servant announced--
"His Highness the Prince of Altschloss!"
Patsy advanced, smiling and held out her hand. She seemed to walk right through poor Louis, who felt himself terribly belittled and ill-used. The Prince did all the things naturally and gracefully, which Louis had so blundered over. He gratified the young dragoon with the slightest bow and the longest stare. After which he immediately turned his attention to Patsy, who, on her side--the shameless minx!--seemed to like nothing better than meeting him half-way.
Louis Raincy grew more and more exasperated. He could not stay, yet if he took himself off in any undignified manner, he felt acutely that they would certainly laugh at him. He wished that he could challenge that prince and all such insolent foreigners--yes, and kill them one by one like a second Julian Wemyss! This thought cheered him, and he had reached his fifth or sixth homicide when Patsy recalled him to himself.
"Miss Aline is in her parlour, Louis. Will you go through the conservatory and tell her that the Prince is here?"
"She wants to be rid of me," the mind of Louis Raincy went storming on to itself. "She is a hard-hearted, deceitful--"
But while he was thus inwardly detailing the character of Patsy to ease his anger, he was also by force of habit obeying her orders.
He found Miss Aline with a letter in her hand and a flush of excitement on her face, which the young man was too occupied with his own affairs to seek to trace to its cause.
"Why, Louis Raincy," cried the old lady, "is it officer's manners to come headfirst into a leddy's room like a bullock breaking dykes? I have seen you do better than that before ever you put on the king's coat."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Aline," said the boy penitently. "I did not know that the door would open so quickly or that you would be so near. I have a message--from Pat--from Miss Ferris--"
"Eh?" cried the old lady, cramming the letter into her pocket; "wha's Miss Ferris?--I dinna ken her--and I thought that you didna either!"
"Well then," said Louis, withdrawing into his sulks, "she bade me tell you that the Prince is with her and will be glad to see you!"
"Oh, he will, will he noo," quoth Miss Aline; "weel, there's a heap o' princes. I hae been meeting them rayther thick thae last twa-three months. And this yin can juist wait."
"But, Miss Aline, I think--it will be better for you to go at once--I am not going back to--to be insulted and treated like a child. I want to go, Miss Aline."
The old lady held up her hands from which the deep lace sleeves hung gracefully, while the half-mitts clung to the narrow wrists.
"Hoots--hoots, laddie! What's a' this? Ye hae been quarrelling with Patsy. For shame, Louis--eh, what's that? My puir lad, dinna tak' things to heart. She's a guid lass--what should onybody ken aboot her that I do not ken? Laddie, stop greetin'--Patsy would be terrible angry if she kenned I telled ye--but she wants ye to be a strong man--'a leader and not a follower.' Says she, 'I shall never care for a man that I can maister.'"
"Then she will never care for me," mourned poor Louis. "I can do things for her sake--I can do as she bids me, and I am always ready. But, Miss Aline, it does not seem to be the least good. That prince--"
"Never ye mind aboot princes--they are kittle-cattle, and Patsy was juist letting you see that ye should carry a speerit in ye that no prince in ony land could daunt."
"Oh, if it were only fighting," said Louis, "I should not be afraid. But as it is, I shall not set my foot here again till Patsy sends for me--"
"Which she is like to do the morn's mornin', just to see if ye are still in the sulks! Laddie, can ye no see that it is just an amusement to her? She doesna mean to be cruel, but only wants ye to be a man amang men--and mair parteeclar amang weemen!"
"Yes, I know," said Louis, disconsolately, "she does it for my good. She has explained that to me several times. But somehow it does not seem to help much!"
"Louis Raincy," said the old lady, severe for the first time, "be a worthy son of your forbears. There are forty of them in the Raincy chapel up yonder in the wood. It wad be an awesome thing to be carried in among them and you not worthy. I am a woman--an auld maid if you like--but I am a Minto, and here I am braving the great ones of the earth to look after Patsy--me that would a thousand times raither be at Ladykirk with Eelen Young and that silly Babby Latheron, weighing out the sugar and spices for the late conserves--the bramble and the damsons and the elderberry wine."
In spite of all this good advice, or perhaps because of it, Louis Raincy went off without returning to the drawing-room, and with what he took to be despair in his heart. Patsy was by no means the old Patsy. She would never be again. Yet when he began to turn matters over in his head after he had reached his quarters, he could not remember a time when Patsy had not tyrannized over him, trampled him under foot, and variously abused him, even from the time of their infantile plays with sand castles and sea-shells built, architected, and ornamented on the seashore between the Black Head and the estuary of the Mays Water.
But somehow when Patsy did the same thing in London, and in the face of other men, Louis did not enjoy the process so much.
"Hech, my daisy," said Miss Aline, as she and Patsy went back to her parlour after the Prince of Altschloss had taken his leave, "that laddie, Louis, has ower muckle o' his mither in him. She's a McBride, and guid blood, but Dame Lucy is juist like some preserves. Ye put in good berries. Ye strain to perfection. The sugar and the spice and the correct time for boiling--skimming and stirring done with your own hand--yet after all the stuff will not jell. It will harden in no mould because it is unstable as water. That is the boy's mother, the Lady Lucy. As for the lad, God send him something that will harden him, so that when his grandfather dies, another De Raincy of the right breed may rule in his stead. At present he is overly much after the pattern of his mother!"
"Well," said Patsy, with her hands rolled in the fluffy ends of her muslin scarf, "don't blame me, Miss Aline. I do my best to toughen him, and then he goes and cries to you!"
"I wonder,