Clare, and all the time Valders-Roan was
standing tied to the
fence, in full view of all, utterly neglected. This spectacle
filled him with such ire that he hardly could control himself.
His first
impulse was to pick a quarrel with Erik; but a second
and far brighter idea
presently struck him. He would buy Lady
Clare. Accordingly, when the captain and his son had mounted
their horses and were about to start on their
homeward way,
Garvestad, putting Valders-Roan to his trumps, dug his heels into
his sides and rode up with a great
flourish in front of the
churchyard gate.
"How much will you take for that mare of yours, captain?" he
asked, as he checked his
charger with unnecessary vigor close to
Lady Clare.
"She is not mine to sell," the captain replied. "Lady Clare
belongs to my son."
"Well, what will you take for her, then?" Garvestad repeated,
swaggeringly, turning to Erik.
"Not all the gold in the world could buy her," retorted Erik,
warmly.
Valders-Roan,
unable to
resist the charms of Lady Clare, had in
the
meanwhile been making some
cautious overtures toward an
acquaintance. He
arched his
mighty neck, rose on his hind legs,
while his
tremendous forehoofs were
beating the air, and cut up
generally--all for Lady Clare's benefit.
She, however, having regarded his performances for
awhile with a
mild and somewhat condescending interest, grew a little tired of
them and looked out over the fiord, as a belle might do, with a
suppressed yawn, when her
cavalier fails to
entertain her.
Valders-Roan, perceiving the slight, now concluded to make more
decided advances. So he put forward his nose until it nearly
touched Lady Clare's, as if he meant to kiss her. But that was
more than her ladyship was prepared to put up with. Quick as a
flash she flung herself back on her haunches, down went her ears,
and hers was the angriest horse's head that ever had been seen in
that
parish. With an
indignant snort she wheeled around, kicking
up a cloud of dust by the suddenness of the
manoeuvre. A less
skilled rider than Erik would
inevitably have been thrown by two
such unforeseen jerks; and the fact was he had all he could do to
keep his seat.
"Oho!" shouted Garvestad, "your mare shies; she'll break your
neck some day, as likely as not. You had better sell her before
she gets you into trouble."
"But I shouldn't like to have your broken neck on my conscience,"
Erik replied; "if necks are to be broken by Lady Clare I should
prefer to have it be my own."
The
peasant was not clever enough to make out whether this was
jest or
earnest. With a puzzled frown he stared at the youth and
finally broke out:
"Then you won't sell her at no price? Anyway, the day you change
your mind don't forget to
notify John Garvestad. If it's
spondulix you are after, then here's where there's plenty of
'em."
He slapped his left breast-pocket with a great swagger, looking
around to observe the
impression he was making on his audience;
then, jerking the
bridleviolently, so as to make his horse rear,
he rode off like Alexander on Bucephalus, and swung down upon the
highway.
It was but a few weeks after this
occurrence that Captain
Carstens and his son were invited to honor John Garvestad by
their presence at his
wedding. They were in doubt, at first, as
to whether they ought to accept the
invitation; for some
unpleasant rumors had reached them, showing that Garvestad
entertained unfriendly feelings toward them. He was an intensely
vain man; and the thought that Erik Carstens had a finer horse
than Valders-Roan left him no peace. He had been heard to say
repeatedly that, if that high-nosed youth persisted in his
refusal to sell the mare, he would discover his mistake when,