The Love-Story of Aliette Brunton

when he caught sight of those jagged branches blocking the path, would ease up of his own accord. Miracle had never bolted in his life. . . . But Miracle came round that last bend as though it had been Tattenham Corner; and Miracle's rider, peering between his ears at the forbidding obstacle fifty yards ahead, knew that it would be fatal to try and stop him. As a matter of cold fact, he didn't want to stop the horse. The overturned tree, unlopped, five feet high and eight across, lay between him and Aliette: once over it, five minutes would see them home! Ronnie took one pull at the reins, sat down in his saddle, grasped Miracle between his knees, sent up one voiceless prayer for safety, flicked once with his ashplant, felt the great horse steady himself hocks-under-body, felt his forehand lift, gave him his head--went up, down and over, his shoulders almost touching the croup--and landed like a steeple-chase jock to a crackle of twigs on the turf beyond. Then, at long last, the tree fifty yards behind and the highroad half a mile ahead, Miracle answered to the rein. Gradually his pace checked from gallop to hand-canter; from hand-canter to a quick nervous trot that sent the loose stones scudding from his hoofs. "Good lad," said Ronnie, easing as they emerged from lane to highroad. "Good lad," he repeated, as Miracle--scarcely sweating--clattered swiftly through the stable-gateway and stood for dismounting. For somehow, even as he swung-from saddle, Ronnie knew that Alie's danger was over, so that it hardly needed the returned Driver's cheery grin and cheery words, "It's a boy, sir. Kate's just come out and told us," to reassure him. 5 "Sorry I spoofed you about the time," said Hartley, some hour and a half after. "But you were making such an ass of yourself that we all thought you'd be better out of the way. You can go up now, if you like. Only don't stay long." Ronnie, one hand on the newel-post of the staircase, laughed as he answered, "I'm afraid I was a wee bit rattled"; and went up the blue-carpeted treads three at a time. The door of Alie's room, as though expectant, stood a mite open. Through the chink of it shone a primrose gleam of light. Alie's husband knocked faintly; and nurse rustled to the doorway. "They're asleep," whispered nurse. "You may look at them if you like." The uniformed woman let him in, closing the door of the room. The cretonne curtains were still drawn across the latticed windows. Candles glowed on the mantelpiece and the dressing-table. But the big bed, toward which Ronnie tiptoed, was in shadow; so that Aliette's hair, braided down either shoulder, showed dark against white pillows and whiter skin. She slept--the child, his man-child, tiny in the crook of her arm--the ghost of a smile on her breathing lips. Ronnie stood for a long while, gazing down on the pair of them. His blue eyes were bright with thankfulness. His heart thudded, pleasurably, against his ribs. "She wouldn't let me take the baby from her," whispered nurse. "You'll go away now, won't you? They mustn't be woken." But at that, Aliette's eyes opened. Drowsily, she looked up at him; drowsily, smiling still, she murmured: "Kiss me before you go, man. I'm so happy, so wonderfully and gloriously happy." Bending, Ronald Cavendish kissed his wife's warm fluttering eyelids and the soft downy head in the crook of her arm. * * * * * =Transcriber's notes:= Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Panoroma was changed to panorama on page 482 of the original.