Slap came the whip on the polished boot-tops, and Sir William was at it again with his gods and goddesses:
I looked sullenly at Esk, then at Peter, who put out his tongue at me. I had little knowledge of mythology beyond what concerned that long-legged goddess who loved hunting--as I did.
"Who carried off Proserpine?" repeated Sir William. "Come now, you should know that; come now--a likely lass, Proserpine, out in the bush pulling cowslips, bless her little fingers--when--ho!--up pops--eh?--who, lad, who in Heaven's name?"
I felt for my underlip and got it between my teeth, and for a space not another word would I speak, although that hollow roar began to sound in Sir William's voice which always meant a scene. His whip, too, went slap-slap! on his boots, like the tail of a big dog rapping its ribs.
He was perhaps a violent man, Sir William, yet none outside of his own family ever suspected it or do now believe it, he having so perfect a control over himself when he chose. And I often think that his outbursts towards us were all pretence, and to test his own capacity for temper lest he had lost it in a long lifetime of self-control. At all events, none of us ever were the worse for his roaring, although it frightened us when very young; but we soon came to understand that it was as harmless as summer thunder.
"Come, sir! Come, Mr. Cardigan!" said Sir William, grimly. "Out with the gentleman's name--d'ye hear?"
It was the first time in my life that Sir William had spoken to me as Mr. Cardigan. It might have pleased me had I not seen Mr. Butler sneer.
I glared at Mr. Butler, whose face became shadowy and loose, without expression, without life, save for the fixed stare of those round eyes.
Slap! went Sir William's whip on his boots.
"Damme!" he shouted, in a passion, "who carried off that slut Proserpine?"
"The Six Nations, for aught I know!" I muttered, disrespectfully.
Sir William's face went redder than his coat; but, as it was ever his habit when affronted, he stood up very straight and still; and that tribute of involuntary silence which was always paid to him at such moments, we paid, sitting awed and quiet as mice.
"Turn the children free, Captain Butler," said Sir William, in a low voice.