Mamma is always ecstatic for an instant after any one has addressed her as "Countess," so she didn"t insist, and only murmured to herself, "Oh, _why_ did I leave my peaceful home?" in a minor wail which showed me that she wasn"t really half as anxious as I was. But if she could have seen Mr. Barrymore"s profile, and had the inspiration to read it as I did, she would probably have jumped out of the automobile in full flight. Whereupon, though she might have gained a crown to wear upon her forehead, all those on her brushes and powder-pots, and satchels and trunks, would have been wasted. Poor little Mamma!
We plunged down below the snow-line; we saw far beneath us a wide, green valley, where other people, the size of flies, were safe if not happy.
We pa.s.sed some barracks, where a lot of st.u.r.dy little mountain soldiers stopped bowling b.a.l.l.s in a dull, stony square to watch us fly by. We frightened some mules; we almost made a horse faint away; but the Chauffeulier showed no desire to stop and let them admire our "bonnet"
at close quarters.
The excitement of the drive, and my conviction that Mr. Barrymore was silently fighting some unseen danger for us all, filled me with a kind of intoxication. I could have screamed; but if I had, it wouldn"t have been with cowardly fear. Partly, perhaps, the strange exhilaration came from the beauty of the world on which we were descending almost as if we were falling from the sky. I felt that I could have lovely thoughts about it--almost as poetical as Maida"s--if only I had had time; but as it was, the ideas jostled each other in my mind like a crowd of people rushing to catch a train.
From behind, I could hear Maida"s voice from moment to moment, as she talked to Mamma or Sir Ralph, innocently unsuspicious of any hidden danger.
"Isn"t it all wonderful?" she was saying. "Day before yesterday we left riotous, tumultuous summer on the Riviera; found autumn in the Roya valley, chill and grim, though so magnificent; and came into winter snows this morning. Now we"ve dropped down into spring. It"s like a fairy story I read once, about a girl whose cruel stepmother drove her from home penniless, and sent her into the mountains at dead of night, telling her never to come back unless she could bring an ap.r.o.nful of strawberries for her stepsister. The poor girl wandered on and on in the dark in a terrible storm, until at last she strayed to a wild mountain-top, where the twelve Months lived. Some were old men, wrapped in long cloaks; some were young and ardent; some were laughing boys.
With a stroke of his staff, each Month could make what he would with the weather. Father January had but to wave his stick to cause the snow to fall; May, in pity for the girl"s tears, created a rose garden, while his brother"s snow-wreaths were melting; but it was June who finally understood what she wanted, and gave her a bed of fragrant strawberries.
I feel as if _we_ had wandered to the house of the Months, and they were waving their staffs to create miracles for us."
"It will be a miracle if we ever get out of the house of the Months and into one of our own," I said to myself, almost spitefully, for the talk in the tonneau did seem frivolous when I glanced up furtively at that tight-set mouth of Mr. Barrymore"s. And after that, to look down from a frame of snow mountains through a pinky-white haze of plum, cherry, and pear blossoms to delicate green meadows sparkling with a thick gold-dust of dandelions, was for me like going out to be tried for my life in a frock made by a fairy.
I hardly breathed until the corkscrew uncurled itself at last and turned into an ordinary downhill road. Our car slackened speed, and finally, as we came upon the first long, level stretch, to my astonishment moved slower and more slowly until it stopped dead.
XI
A CHAPTER OF BRAKES AND WORMS
Mamma laughed one of those coquettish, twenty-five-year-old laughs that go with her auburn hair and her crowns.
"Well, have you decided to give us a chance to breathe, after all?" she asked. "I should say it was about time."
"I"m afraid you"ll breathe maledictions when you hear what is the matter," said our Chauffeulier.
"Good gracious! what"s happened?" exclaimed Mamma. "If the thing"s going to explode, do let us get out and run."
"So far from exploding, she"s likely to be silent for some time," Mr.
Barrymore went on, jumping down and going to the automobile"s head. "I"m awfully sorry. After the delays we"ve suffered, you won"t think motoring is all it"s painted, when I tell you that we"re in for another."
"Why, what is it this time?" Mamma asked.
"I"m not quite sure yet," said Mr. Barrymore, "but the chains are wrong for one thing, and I"m inclined to think there"s some deep-seated trouble. I shall soon find out, but whatever it is, I hope you won"t blame the car too much. She"s a trump, really; but she had a big strain put upon her endurance yesterday and this morning. Dragging another car twice her size for thirty miles or more up a mountain pa.s.s isn"t a joke for a twelve horse-power car."
Any one would think the automobile was his instead of Sir Ralph"s by the pride he takes in it. Sir Ralph doesn"t seem to care half as much; but then I don"t believe he"s a born sports-man like his friend. You can be a motor-car owner if you"ve got money enough; but I guess you have to be _born_ a motor-car man.
"Well, this isn"t exactly an ideal place for an accident," remarked Mamma, "as it seems to be miles from anywhere; but we ought to be thankful to Providence for not letting the break come up there on that awful mountain."
I saw a faint twinkle in Mr. Barrymore"s eyes and a twitch of his lips, as he bent down over the machinery without answering a word, and I couldn"t resist the temptation of letting him see that I was in his secret. There couldn"t be any harm in it"s coming out now.
"Thankful to Mr. Barrymore for bringing us safely down the "awful mountain" when the break _had_ come at the top," I corrected Mamma, with my chin in the air.
"Good Heavens, Beechy, what _do_ you mean?" she gasped, while our Chauffeulier flashed me a quick look of surprise.
"Oh, only that the accident, whatever it was, happened soon after we came out of the tunnel, and if Mr. Barrymore"d stopped when you wanted him to, he couldn"t have started again, for we were just running downhill with our own weight; and I knew it all the time," I explained airily.
"You"re joking, Beechy, and I think it"s horrid of you," said Mamma, looking as if she were going to cry.
"Am I joking, Mr. Barrymore?" I asked, turning to him.
"I had no idea that you guessed, and I don"t see now how you did; but it"s true that the accident happened up there," he admitted, and he looked so grave that I began to feel guilty for telling.
"Then it was only by a merciful dispensation that we weren"t hurled over the precipice and dashed to pieces," exclaimed Mamma.
"That depends on one"s definition of a merciful dispensation," said Mr.
Barrymore. "From one point of view every breath we draw is a merciful dispensation, for we might easily choke to death at any instant. We were never for a single moment in danger. If I hadn"t been sure of that, of course I would have stopped the car at any cost. As a matter of fact, when we began the descent I found that the hand-brake wouldn"t act, and knew the chains had gone wrong. If I"d thought it was only that I could have put on our spare chains, but I believed there was more and worse, so I determined to get on as far towards civilization as I could before stopping the car."
"You brought us down those ghastly hills without a brake!" Mamma cried out, losing her temper. "And Sir Ralph called you careful! I can never trust you again."
I could have slapped her and myself too.
"Aunt Kathryn!" exclaimed Maida. Then I could have slapped her as well for interfering. It would serve her right if I married her off to the Prince.
The Chauffeulier looked for a second as if he were going to say "Very well, madam; do as you like about that." But Maida"s little reproachful exclamation apparently poured balm upon his troubled soul.
"Not without a brake," he answered, with great patience and politeness, "but with one instead of two. If the foot-brake had burned, as possibly it might, the compression of the gas in the cylinder could have been made to act as a brake. The steering-gear was in perfect order, which was the most important consideration in the circ.u.mstances, and I felt that I was undertaking a responsibility which the car and I together were well able to carry out. But as I thought that amateurs were likely to be alarmed if they knew what had happened, I naturally kept my knowledge to myself."
"I saw that something was wrong by the set expression of your face,"
said I, "and I wasn"t a bit afraid, because I felt, whatever it was, you"d bring us through all right. But I"m sorry I spoke now."
"You needn"t be," said he. "I shouldn"t have done so myself yet I wasn"t silent for my own sake; and I should do the same if it had to be done over again."
But this didn"t comfort me much, for I was sure that Maida wouldn"t have spoken if she had been in my place. I don"t know why I was sure, but I was.
"Whatever Barrymore does in connection with a motor-car, is always right, Countess," said Sir Ralph, "though in other walks of life I wouldn"t vouch for him."
His funny way of saying this made us all laugh and Mamma picked up the good temper which she had lost in her first fright. She began to apologize, but Mr. Barrymore wouldn"t let her; and the storm was soon forgotten in the interest with which we hung upon the Chauffeulier"s explorations.
He peered into the mysterious inner workings of the machine, tapped some things, thumped others, and announced that one of the "cones of the countershaft" was broken.
"There"s no doubt that the undue strain yesterday and this morning weakened it," he said, coming up from the depths with a green smear on his n.o.ble brow. "What we"ve really to be thankful for is that it waited to snap until we"d got up all the hills. Now, though as the Countess says we seem to be miles from anywhere, we"re actually within close touch of civilization. Unless I"m out in my calculations, we must be near a place called Limone, where, if there isn"t much else, at least there"s a station on the new railway line. All we"ve got to do is to find something to tow us, as we towed Dalmar-Kalm (a mere mule will answer as well as a motor) to that station, where we can put the car on the train and be at Cuneo in no time. The guide-books say that Cuneo"s interesting, and anyhow there are hotels of sorts there--also machine tools, a forge, a lathe, and things of that kind which we can"t carry about with us."
"What a splendid adventure!" exclaimed Maida. "I love it; don"t you, Beechy?"
I answered that I entertained a wild pa.s.sion for it; but all the same, I wished I"d mentioned it first.
This settled Mamma"s att.i.tude towards the situation. She saw that it was _young_ to enter into the spirit of the adventure, so she took the cue from us and flung herself in with enthusiasm enough to make up for her crossness.
"Somebody must go on an exploring expedition for a mule," said Mr.
Barrymore, "and as I"m the only one whose Italian is fairly fluent, I suppose I must be the somebody. Miss Destrey, would you care to go with me for the sake of a little exercise?"
In another minute I would have volunteered, but even thirteen-year-olds have too much pride to be the third that makes a crowd. Gooseberry jam is the only jam I don"t like; so I kept still and let them go off together, chaperoned by the little black dog. Sir Ralph stood by the automobile talking to Mamma while I wandered aimlessly about, though I could tell by the corner of his eye that she didn"t occupy his whole attention.