hair, but did not stir from the spot. From sheer embarrassment
he clutched the
lieutenant's arm, and almost pinched it.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," the officer exclaimed, addressing the
auctioneer, as if he had suddenly been aroused from a fit of
abstraction; "I made the bid of one hundred dollars, or--or--at
any rate, I make it now."
The same
performance, intended to force up the price, was
repeated once more, but with no avail, and at the end of two
minutes Lady Clare was knocked down to Lieutenant Thicker.
"Now I have gone and done it like the
blooming idiot that I am,"
observed the
lieutenant, when Lady Clare was led into his stable
by a liveried groom. "What an overhauling the captain will give
me when he gets home."
"You need have no fear," Erik replied. "I'll sound father as
soon as he gets home; and if he makes any trouble I'll pay you
that one hundred dollars, with interest, the day I come of age."
Well, the captain came home, and having long had the
intention to
present his son with a
saddle-horse, he allowed himself to be
cajoled into approving of the
bargain. The mare was an exquisite
creature, if ever there was one, and he could well understand how
Erik had been carried away; Lieutenant Thicker, instead of being
hauled over the coals, as he had expected, received thanks for
his kind and
generous conduct toward the son of his superior
officer. As for Erik himself, he had never had any idea that a
boy's life could be so
glorious as his was now. Mounted on that
splendid, coal-black mare, he rode through the city and far out
into the country at his father's side; and never did it seem to
him that he had loved his father so well as he did during these
afternoon rides. The captain was far from suspecting that in
that
episode of the purchase of Lady Clare his own relation to
his son had been at stake. Not that Erik would not have obeyed
his father, even if he had turned out his rough side and taken
the
lieutenant to task for his kindness; but their relation would
in that case have lacked the warm
intimacy (which in nowise
excludes
obedience and respect) and that last touch of devoted
admiration which now bound them together.
That fine touch of
sympathy in the captain's
disposition which
had enabled him to smile indulgently at his son's
enthusiasm for
the horse made the son
doublyanxious not to abuse such kindness,
and to do everything in his power to
deserve the confidence which
made his life so rich and happy. Though, as I have said, Captain
Carstens lacked the acuteness to discover how much he owed to
Lady Clare, he acknowledged himself in quite a different way her
debtor. He had never really been aware what a splendid specimen
of a boy his son was until he saw him on the back of that
spirited mare, which cut up with him like the Old Harry, and yet
never succeeded in flurrying, far less in unseating him. The
captain felt a glow of
affectionwarming his breast at the sight
of this, and his pride in Erik's horsemanship proved a
consolation to him when the boy's less
distinguishedperformances
at school caused him fret and worry.
"A boy so full of pluck must
amount to something, even if he does
not take kindly to Latin," he reflected many a time. "I am
afraid I have made a mistake in having him prepared for college.
In the army now, and particularly in the
cavalry, he would make a
reputation in twenty minutes."
And a
cavalryman Erik might, perhaps, have become if his father
had not been transferred to another post, and compelled to take
up his
residence in the country. It was nominally a promotion,
but Captain Carstens was ill pleased with it, and even had some
thought of resigning rather than give up his
delightful city
life, and move far
northward into the region of cod and herring.
However, he was too young a man to
retire on a
pension, as yet,
and so he gradually reconciled himself to the thought, and sailed
northward in the month of April with his son and his entire
household. It had long been a question whether Lady Clare should
make the journey with them; for Captain Carstens maintained that
so high-bred an animal would be very
sensitive to climatic
changes and might even die on the way. Again, he argued that it
was an
absurdity to bring so fine a horse into a rough country,
where the roads are poor and where nature, in mercy, provides all
beasts with rough,
shaggy coats to protect them from the cold.
How would Lady Clare, with her
glossy satin coat, her slender
legs that pirouetted so daintily over the ground, and her