From Jest to Earnest Part 55

"Now, Miss Marchmont," said Miss Martell, with a graceful inclination to Addie.

"And the pale little boy, with big, owl-like eyes," continued Addie, flippantly, "stalked along as if going to a funeral, while Ninon tripped and danced at his side. But soon the young girl's steps grew slower and slower, and her face thoughtful, and she began to question her mother's words,--that she was too much of a child to have a lover; and by the time she reached the village green she gave her pretty head a toss as she said, 'We'll see about this.

Mother doesn't know everything.'"

"Now, Bel."

"But poor little Ninon," said Bel, "soon became sadly bewildered, for there were so many people all talking at once, and they pushed against and jostled her as if she were very small and insignificant indeed, and she began to think that her mother was right, and that she was only a child; and she grew frightened and wished herself at home again. But she kept fast hold of the hand of her brother whom the saints loved, and felt that as long as he was with her she was safe. Finally they were pushed and jostled to a quiet nook on the edge of the green, under a tree, and here they sat down. Soon the dancing commenced, and Ninon amused herself by criticising the people and making remarks to her brother about their dress and manner. But he did not seem to hear her, and his eyes were fixed on the sky, as if he saw more that was wonderful there than she upon the village green."

"Mr. De Forrest, you next."

"But as Ninon sat there smiling and talking more to herself than to her queer little brother, who didn't listen, the young men began to notice her, and to nudge each other and ask who she was; for in truth she reminded every one of a half-blown rose. But no one knew who she was, and no one had ever seen her before. Then the handsomest young man in the village--indeed he was the one at whom all the girls were setting their caps--stepped forward and took a deliberate survey, and soon was convinced that, among all the village maidens, there was not a face as fair as Ninon's. And while he looked at her Ninon from under her long lashes as intently watched him. At last the young man made up his mind, and said to himself, 'I will be her lover for this afternoon,' and in a manner that was the very embodiment of grace, he stepped up to her and said, 'My pretty maiden, wilt dance with me?'"

And De Forrest bowed to Lottie to continue. It was strange how the foolish little story was gaining the breathless interest of all present--all the more because each one was unconsciously coloring his bit of the mosaic with his own individuality. Lottie's manner by no means tended to allay this interest as she began her part of the impromptu tale. She was a natural actress, and, for the moment, became little Ninon. The scene had grown actual to her vivid fancy, and by some process that cannot be explained she impressed it upon the minds of the others as real. They saw the crowded village green, the pet.i.te maiden and her weird brother sitting upon its edge, as she began.

"And Ninon shyly raised her dark eyes to the face of the handsomest young man of all the village, at whom the girls were setting their caps, and said, a trifle coldly, 'I am only a little child who has come to see. Go thy ways.'

"And the handsome young man stalked away, haughty and offended; and the youth of the village nudged each other and smiled and wondered and said, 'She must be a princess in disguise, or she would dance with him whom all the girls covet.' So no one else would venture to speak to her. But Ninon for a while was content to be left alone to watch all the funny people and their funny ways. She didn't see any one with whom she wanted to dance.

"At last she became conscious that one who seemed a stranger like herself was watching her, and she began to look curiously at him.

At first she did not like his looks at all, His dress was very plain,--not a bit smart and gay like that of the other young men.

Besides, he was so tall and grave; and once, when some one said a rude word to him, his eyes were so fiery that Ninon was afraid of him. But a moment later, when his eyes rested on her, they became so kind and gentle that she wondered how it could be. Then she began to grow sorry for him because, like herself, he was a stranger and had no one to talk to. But he seemed in quest of some one, for he would look all around among the people; but soon his eyes would come back and rest wistfully upon her face, as if she were the one he was looking for after all. This puzzled Ninon greatly, and she asked herself, 'Now can it be that I am the one he's looking for?'

At last it seemed that the stranger wished to speak to her, but hadn't the courage, and this amused Ninon vastly. Twice he advanced, faltered, and then retreated. Ninon was convulsed with laughter and whispered, 'O Pierre, isn't this the funniest thing that ever was in this great world? That big man there is afraid of me,--little Ninon.'

"Then she saw that he thought she was laughing at him, and that he had straightened himself up stiff and haughty and had looked the other way. But he couldn't keep looking the other way very long,"

Lottie said, with an indescribable air that brought out a round of applause; "and when he timidly glanced towards her again she gave him such an encouraging smile that he came at once to her side and said, 'Little sister, wilt walk with me?'

"A happy thought struck Ninon. Her mother had said she was too young to have a lover, but nothing had been said against her having another brother. So, with conscience clear, she whispered, 'Sit still here till I come back '; and the little boy sat still, looking up into the sky, while Ninon let the tall stranger take her hand and lead her away. But his eyes were so gentle and true that she lost all fear and asked, 'Why do you call me sister?'

"'Perhaps you can tell me,' he said. 'I came here an utter stranger, and I looked all around among the people, and their faces were strange, and it seemed to me that they ever would be strange; but when I saw your face you appeared to belong to me. I think we must be related.'

"'I never saw you before,' said Ninon, shaking her head.

"'I've seen you in my dreams all my life,' he replied, looking at her so earnestly that the color deepened on her cheek.

"'I never heard anything so queer in all my life,' said Ninon.

"'You have much to learn,' said the stranger.

"'Yes,' said Ninon, humbly; 'as mother says, I'm only a little child.'

"'You are not a little child; you are a beautiful maiden, Ninon,'

said the stranger, earnestly.

"'Nonsense!' she said blushingly. 'I'll never be that.' But she liked to hear him say it, nevertheless," Lottie added with an accent that again brought out a round of applause.

"I'm taking too much time," Lottie said, deprecatingly.

"Go on, go on," was the unanimous cry; and her little brother Dan, who had dropped nuts and apples and was leaning open-mouthed on her knees, said, "Lottie, if you don't go on, I'll do something dreadful."

So Lottie continued: "And the tall stranger smiled down upon her and said, 'Violets are my favorite flower, and you are a modest little violet.'

"'Now you are wrong again,' said Ninon; 'violets are a pale blue flower, and my cheeks are burning so oddly--I never had them do so before. I know I look like the peonies in the cure's garden.'

"'You look like the sweetest rose in the cure's garden.'

"'Is that the way big brothers talk to their little sisters?'

"'That is the way I talk to you, and I'm in earnest.'

"'How do little sisters treat a brother as big as you are?'

"'Well, for one thing, they kiss them.'

"'That's queer,' said Ninon, innocently. 'I should think it would be just the other way.'

"'Now I think of it, you are right,' and the stranger gave her a kiss that set every nerve tingling.

"'How odd!' she exclaimed, half-frightened, half-delighted. 'Pierre sometimes kisses me, but I never felt that way before.'

"'And big brothers take their little sisters in their arms and lift them over the rough places, as I do.'

"And he carried her over a low stone wall that separated them from a shadowy grove.

"'O, how nice!' sighed Ninon, complacently; 'I've always had to get over the rough places by myself before.'

"'You will no longer,' said the youth, as they pa.s.sed under the low branches of a sheltering tree. 'O Ninon, as innocent as beautiful, can you not see that I am not your brother, but your lover?' and he threw himself at her feet.

"But Ninon clasped her hands in the deepest distress, and cried, 'O, why did you say that? You might have been my brother as long as you chose. But mother says I can have no lover,--that I am only a child'; and like a startled fawn she fled from him, and, a few moments later, panting and breathless, was sitting again beside her strange little brother, who was still looking into the sky as if he saw a vision.

"The young stranger followed sadly, thinking how he might still win her, and teach her that she was no longer a child. Ninon soon became more composed, and looked around as if she would like to see him again. As at a distance he watched her from under his bent eyebrows, a happy thought struck him, and he said, 'I'll teach her that she is a woman'; and, stepping forward, he singled out a neglected village maiden, who seemed ready for a little attention from anybody, and whirled her into the dance. Ninon, to her dismay, saw the arm of her whilom brother and lover encircling another girl, while she, apparently, was forgotten. She could scarcely believe her eyes. She looked at him fixedly, the picture of reproach, but he never seemed to look towards her. Surprise, resentment, grief, followed each other upon her fair face, like clouds pa.s.sing over a sunny landscape. At last she buried her face upon little Pierre's shoulder, and sobbed, 'He may be my lover, or anything else, if he will only leave that hateful minx and come to me once more.'

"The tall stranger saw her drooping head, and quickly led his partner out of the dance and bowed himself away, leaving her bewildered,--so quickly had he come and gone.

"Ninon looked up, but he was nowhere to be seen, and the 'hateful minx' stood alone. Suddenly a voice that had grown strangely familiar said at her side, 'May I be thy lover now?'

"'Thou art false,' she said faintly.

"'Never to thee, Ninon. My thoughts were with thee every moment since thou so cruelly left me. Do you not see why I sought another maiden? I wished to teach you that you were no longer a child, but a woman. I am your lover. Your heart has already claimed me, and these jealous tears prove it.'

"'Well, then,' said Ninon, shyly smiling again, 'if my heart has gone to you, and I half believe it has, I must follow my heart'; and she put her hand in his."

Loud and long was the applause that greeted Lottie's conclusion.

Dan executed a miniature breakdown as an expression of his feelings, and it seemed as if Mr. Dimmerly's chuckling laugh would never cease. De Forrest looked uneasy, and Hemstead was in a trance of bewildered delight. Alice and Harcourt exchanged significant glances, but upon the faces of Mrs. Marchmont and Bel were traces of disapproval.

"Now, uncle," cried Lottie, "it's your turn. I have given you COMEDY; we shall expect from you high tragedy."

The word "comedy," as Lottie here used it, jarred unpleasantly on Hemstead's ear, and the thought crossed Harcourt's mind, "Can she be leading Hemstead on in heartless jest, as we proposed at first?

How I have changed since that day! and I was in hopes that she had, too, somewhat."