As I left the room I saw the Colonel walk over and lay his hand on Radnor's arm.
"You will change your mind and go, my boy," he said.
But Rad shook the hand off roughly and turned away.
As I went on out to the stables to give orders about the horses, I felt in anything but the proper spirits for a day of merry-making.
However much the Colonel may have been to blame in their quarrel of the night before—and the French clock told its own story—still I could not help but feel that Rad should have borne with him more patiently.
The scene I had just witnessed in the dining-room made me miserable.
The Colonel was a proud man and apology came hard for him, his son might at least have met him half way.
Going upstairs to my room a few minutes later, I caught a glimpse through the open door, of someone standing before the mantelpiece.
Thinking it was Radnor waiting to consult me, I hurried forward and reached the threshold before I realized that it was the Colonel.
He was standing with folded arms before the picture, his eyes, gleaming from under beetling brows, were devouring it hungrily, line by line.
His face was set rigidly with a look—whether of sorrow or loneliness or remorse, I do not know; but I do know that it was the saddest expression I have ever seen on any human face.
It was as if, in a single illuminating flash, he had looked into his own soul, and seen the ruin that his ungoverned pride and passion had wrought against those he loved the most.
So absorbed had he been with his thoughts, that he had not heard my step.
I turned and stole away, realizing suddenly that he was an old man, broken, infirm; that his life with its influence for good or evil was already at an end; he could never change his character now, no matter how keenly he might realize his defects.
Poor little Nannie's wilfulness was at last forgiven, but the forgiveness was fifteen years too late.
Why could not that moment of insight have come earlier to Colonel Gaylord, have come in time to save him from his mistakes?
I passed out of doors again, pondering somewhat bitterly the exigencies of human life.
The bright spring morning with its promise of youth and joy seemed jarringly out of tune.
The beauty was but surface deep, I told myself pessimistically; underneath it was a cruel world.
Before me in the garden path, a jubilant robin was pulling an unhappy angle worm from the ground, and a little farther on, under a blossoming apple tree, the kitchen cat was breakfasting on a baby robin.
The double spectacle struck me as significant of life.
I was casting about for some philosophical truths to fit it, when my revery was interrupted by a shout from Radnor.
I turned to find the horses—three of them—waiting at the portico steps.
Rad was going then after all.
He and his father had evidently patched up some sort of a truce, but I soon saw that it was only a truce.
The two avoided crossing eyes, and as we rode along they talked to me instead of to each other.
The party met at Mathers Hall.
The plan was for us to ride to Luray that morning, spend most of the afternoon there, and then return to the Hall for a supper and dance in the evening.
The elder ladies took the carriage, while the rest of us went on horseback, a couple of servants following in the buckboard with the luncheon.
Mose, bare-feet, linsey-woolsey and all, was brought along to act as guide and he was fairly purring with contentment at the importance it gave him over the other negroes.
It seems that he had been in the habit of finding his way around in the cave ever since he was a little shaver, and he knew the route, Radnor told me, better than the professional guides.
He knew it so well, in fact, that the entire neighborhood was in the habit of borrowing him whenever expeditions were being planned to Luray.
We left our horses at the village hotel, and after eating a picnic lunch in the woods, set out to make the usual round of the cave.
Luray has since been lighted with electricity and laid out in cement walks, but the time of which I am writing was before its exploitation by the railroad, and the cavern was still in its natural state.
Each of us carried either candles or a torch, and the guides were supplied with calcium lights which they touched off at intervals whenever there was any special object of interest.
This was the first cavern of any size that I had ever visited and I was so taken up with examining the rock formations and keeping my torch from burning my hands that I did not pay much attention to the disposal of the rest of the party.
It took over two hours to make the round, and we must have walked about five miles.
What with the heavy damp air and the slippery path, I, for one, was glad to get out into the sunshine again.
I joined the group about Polly Mathers and casually asked if she knew where Radnor had gone.
"I haven't seen him for some time; I think he must have come out before us," she replied. "And unless I am mistaken, Colonel Gaylord," she added, turning to my uncle, "he left my coat on that broken column above Crystal Lake.
I am afraid that he isn't a very good cavalier."
The Colonel, I imagine, had been a very good cavalier in his own youth, and I do not think that he had entirely outgrown it.
"I will repair his fault, Miss Polly," the old man returned with a courtly bow, "and prove to you that the boy does not take after his father in lack of gallantry."
"No, indeed, Colonel Gaylord!" Polly exclaimed. "I was only joking; I shouldn't think of letting you go back after it.
One of the servants can get it."
I shortly after ran across Mose and sent him back for the coat, and the incident was forgotten.
We straggled back to the hotel in twos and threes; the horses were brought out, and we got off amidst general confusion.
I rode beside the carriage for a couple of miles exchanging courtesies with Mrs. Mathers, and then galloped ahead to join the other riders.
I was surprised to see neither my uncle nor Radnor anywhere in sight, and inquired as to their whereabouts.
"I thought they were riding with you," said Polly, wheeling to my side. "You don't suppose," she asked quickly, "that the Colonel was foolish enough to go back for my coat, and we've left him behind?"