65. CHAPTER LXV.
PROVIDENCE.
Ralph was mounted, as usual, upon his fine sorrel, and Fanny
rode a little milk-white pony, which the young man had procured
for her. We need not say that Miss Fanny looked handsome
and coquettish, or Mr. Ralph merry and good-humored.
Laughter was Fanny's by undoubted right, unless her companion
could contest the palm.
Miss Fanny's first movement, after dismounting, was to clasp
Miss Redbud to her bosom with enthusiastic affection, as is
the habit with young ladies upon public occasions; and then
the fair equestrian recognized Verty's existence by a fascinating
smile, which caused the unfortunate Ralph to gaze and
sigh.
“Oh, Redbud!” cried Miss Fanny, laughing, and shaking
gaily her ebon curls, “you can't think what a delightful ride I've
had—with Ralph, you know, who has'nt been half as disagreeable
as usual—”
“Come,” interposed Ralph, “that's too bad!”
“Not for you, sir!”
“Even for me.”
“Well, then, I'll say you are more agreeable than usual.”
“That is better, though some might doubt whether that was
possible.”
“Ralph, you are a conceited, fine gentleman, and positively
dreadful.”
“Ah, you dread me!”
“No, sir!”
“Well, that is not fair—for I am afraid of you. The fact is,
Miss Redbud,” continued Ralph, turning to the young girl, “I
have fallen deeply in love with Fanny, lately—”
“Oh, sir!” said Redbud, demurely.
“But I have not told you the best of the joke.”
“What is that?”
“She's in love with me.”
And Ralph directed a languishing glance toward Fanny,
who cried out:
“Impudence! to say that I am in love with you. It's too bad,
Ralph, for you to be talking so!” added Fanny, pouting and
coloring, “and I'll thank you not to talk so any more.”
“Why not?”
“I'll be offended.”
“That will make you lovely.”
“Mr. Ashley!”
“Miss Temple!”
And striking an attitude, Mr. Ashley waited for Fanny's communication.
Redbud smiled, and turning to Fanny, said:
“Come, now, don't quarrel—and come in and take off your
things.”
“Oh, I can't,” cried the volatile Fanny, laughing—“Ralph and
myself just called by; we are past our time now. That horrid
old Miss Sallianna will scold me, though she does talk about the
beauties of nature—I wonder if she considers her front curls included!”
And Miss Fanny tossed her own, and laughed in defiance of
the absent Sallianna.
At the same moment the Squire came out with Mr. Rushton,
and called to Redbud. The young girl ran to him.
“Would you like a ride, little one?” said the Squire, “Miss
Lavinia and myself are going to town.”
“Oh, yes, sir!”
“But your visitors—”
“Fanny says she cannot stay.”
Fanny ran up to speak for herself; and while Redbud
hastened to her room to prepare for the ride, this young lady
commenced a triangular duel with the Squire and Mr. Ralph,
which caused a grim smile to light upon Mr. Rushton's face, for
an instant, so to speak.
The carriage then drove up with its old greys, and Miss
Lavinia and Redbud entered. Before rode the Squire and Mr.
Rushton; behind, Ralph and Fanny.
As for Verty, he kept by the carriage, and talked with Redbud
and Miss Lavinia, who seemed to have grown very good-humored
and friendly.
Redbud had not ridden out since her return to Apple Orchard,
and the fresh, beautiful day made her cheeks bright and her eyes
brilliant. The grass, the trees, the singing birds, and merry
breezes, spoke to her in their clear, happy voices, and her eye
dwelt fondly on every object, so old, and familiar, and dear.
Is it wonderful that not seldom her glance encountered
Verty's, and they exchanged smiles? His face was the face of
her boy playmate—it was very old and familiar; who can say
that it was not more—that it was not dear?
And so they passed the old gate, with all its apple trees, and
the spot where the great tree stood, through whose heart was
bored the aperture for the cider press beam—and through the
slope beyond, leaving the overseer's house, babies and all, behind,
and issued forth into the highway leading to the ancient borough
of Winchester.
And gazing on the happy autumn fields, our little heroine
smiled brightly, and felt very thankful in her heart to Him who
dowered her life with all that beauty, and joy, and happiness;
and ever and anon her hand would be raised absently toward her
neck, where it played with the old coral necklace taken from
the drawer in which it had been laid—by accident, we should
say, if there were any accident. And so they approached the
town.
