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The Last of the Foresters Part 25

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Redbud raised her head quickly at her friend's exclamation, and discerned the reason therefor. She understood, at a glance, that Verty had become impatient, waiting in the hall down stairs;--bad heard her voice from the room above; and, following his wont at Apple Orchard, quite innocently bethought himself of saving Redbud the trouble of descending, by ascending to her.

Verty sent his voice before him--a laughing and jubilant voice, which asked for Redbud.

f.a.n.n.y jumped up and ran to the door, just as the young man placed his foot upon the landing, and stood before the group.

Verty made a low bow, and greeted Miss f.a.n.n.y with one of the most fascinating smiles which could possibly be imagined. f.a.n.n.y slammed the door in his face, without the least hesitation.

For a moment, Verty stood motionless and bewildered, vainly striving to make out what this extraordinary occurrence meant. At Apple Orchard, as we have said, the doors had never been slammed in his face. On the contrary, he had ranged freely over the mansion, amusing himself as seemed best to him: taking down a volume here--opening a closet there--strolling into the Squire's room, or Redbud's room, where that young lady was studying--and even into the apartment of the dreadful Miss Lavinia, where sat that solemn lady, engaged in the task of keeping the household wardrobe, stockings, and what not, in good condition. No one had ever told Verty that there was the least impropriety in this proceeding; and now, when he only meant to do what he had done a thousand times before, he had a door banged in his face, as if he were a thief with hostile intentions toward the spoons.



For some moments, therefore, as we have said, the young man stood thunderstruck and motionless. Then, considering the whole affair a joke, he began to laugh; and essayed to open the door.

In vain. f.a.n.n.y, possibly foreseeing this, had turned the key.

"Redbud!" said Verty.

"Sir?" said a voice; not Redbud's, however.

"Let me in."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," replied the voice.

"Why?" said Verty, with ready philosophy; "it's n.o.body but me."

"Hum!" said the voice again, in indignant protest against the force of any such reasoning.

"You are not Redbud," continued the cavalier; "I want to see Redbud."

"Well, sir,--go down, and Reddy may come and see you," the voice replied; "as long as you stand there, you will not lay eyes on her--if you stay a week, or a year."

At this dreadful threat, Verty retreated from the door. The idea of not seeing Redbud for a year was horrible.

"Will you come down, Redbud, if I go?" he asked.

Voices heard in debate.

"Say?" said Verty.

After a pause, the voice which had before spoken, said:

"Yes; go down and wait ten minutes."

Verty heaved a sigh, and slowly descended to the hall again. As he disappeared, the door opened, and the face of f.a.n.n.y was seen carefully watching the enemy's retreat. Then the young girl turned to Redbud, and, clapping her hands, cried:

"Did you ever!--what an impudent fellow! But you promised, Reddy!

Come, let me fix your hair!"

Redbud sighed, and a.s.sented.

CHAPTER XXI.

IN WHICH REDBUD SUPPRESSES HER FEELINGS AND BEHAVES WITH DECORUM.

In ten minutes, as she promised, f.a.n.n.y descended with Redbud,--her arm laced around the slender waist of that young lady, as is the wont with damsels,--and ready to give battle to our friend Verty, upon any additional provocation, with even greater zest than before.

Redbud presented a singular contrast to her companion. f.a.n.n.y, smiling, and full of glee, seemed only to have become merrier and brighter for her "cry"--like an April landscape after a rain. Redbud, on the contrary, was still sad, and oppressed from the events of the morning; and, indeed, could scarcely return Verty's greeting without emotion.

Resplendent in his elegant plum-colored coat--with stockings, long embroidered waistcoat, and scarlet ribbon tied around his powdered hair, Verty came forward to meet his innamorata, as joyous and careless as ever, and, figuratively speaking, with open arms.

What was his surprise to find that no smile replied to his own.

Redbud's face was calm--almost cold; she repelled him even when he held out his hand, and only gave him the tips of her fingers, which, for any warmth or motion in them, might have been wood or marble.

Poor Verty drew back, and colored. Redbud change toward him!--no longer care for him! What could this frigid manner with which she met him, mean;--why this cool and distant bow, in reply to his enthusiastic greeting?

Poor Verty sat down disconsolately, gazing at Redbud. He could not understand. Then his glance questioned Miss f.a.n.n.y, who sat with a prim and demure affectation of stateliness, on the opposite side of the room. There was no explanation here either.

While Verty was thus gazing silently, and with growing embarra.s.sment, at the two young girls, Redbud, with a beating heart, and trembling lips, played with the ta.s.sel of the sofa-cushion, and studied the figure of the carpet.

f.a.n.n.y came to the rescue of the expiring conversation, and seizing forcibly upon the topic of the weather, inserted that useful wedge into the rapidly closing crack, and waited for Verty to strike the first blow.

Unfortunately, Verty did not hear her; he was gazing at Redbud.

f.a.n.n.y pouted, and tossed her head. So she was not good enough for the elegant Mr. Verty!--she was not even worth a reply! He might talk himself, then!

Verty did not embrace this tacit permission--he remained silent; and gazing on Redbud, whose color began slowly to rise, as with heaving bosom and down-cast eyes she felt the young man's look--he experienced more and more embarra.s.sment--a sentiment which began to give way to distress.

At last he rose, and going to her side, took her hand.

Redbud slowly drew it away, still without meeting his gaze.

He asked, in a low voice, if she was angry with him.

No--she was not very well to-day; that was all.

And then the long lashes drooped still more with the heavy drops which weighed them down; the cheeks were covered with a deeper crimson; the slender frame became still more agitated. Oh! nothing but those words--"if you would prevent him from suffering"--could bear her through this trying interview: they were enough, however--she would be strong.

And as she came to this determination, Redbud nearly sobbed--the full cup very nearly ran over with its freight of tears. With a beseeching, pleading glance, she appealed to f.a.n.n.y to come to her a.s.sistance.

Such an appeal is never in vain; the free-masonry of the s.e.x has no unworthy members. f.a.n.n.y forgot in a moment her "miff" with Verty, when she saw that for some reason Redbud was very nearly ready to burst into tears, and wished to have the young man's attention called away from her; she no longer remembered the slight to herself, which had made her toss her head, and vow that she would not open her lips again; she came to the rescue, as women always do, and with the most winning smile, demanded of Mr. Verty whether he would be so kind as to do her a slight favor?

The young man sighed, and moved his head indifferently. f.a.n.n.y did not choose to see the expression, and positively beaming with smiles, all directed, like a sheaf of arrows, full upon the gentleman, pushed the point of her slipper from the skirt of her dress, and said she would be exceedingly obliged to Mr. Verty, if he would fasten the ribbon which had become loose.

Of course, Verty had to comply. He rose, sighing more than ever, and crossing the room, knelt down to secure the rebellious ribbon.

No sooner had he knelt, than Miss f.a.n.n.y made a movement which attracted Redbud's attention. Their eyes met, and f.a.n.n.y saw that her friend was almost exhausted with emotion. The impulsive girl's eyes filled as she looked at Redbud; with a smile, however, and with the rapidity and skill of young ladies at public schools, she spelled something upon her fingers, grazing as she went through the quick motions, the head of Verty, who was bending over the slipper.

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The Last of the Foresters Part 25 summary

You're reading The Last of the Foresters. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): John Esten Cooke. Already has 413 views.

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