The Last of the Foresters Part 41

On the morning of the day upon which the events we have just related occurred, little Redbud was sitting at her window, reading by the red light of sunrise.

If anything is beautiful in this world, a.s.suredly it is the fresh, innocent face of a child, flooded with the deep gold of sunrise, and with cheeks still bathed in the delicate rose-bloom of slumber.

Morning and childhood go together, as all things pure, and fresh, and tender do; and in the face of the child, sitting there in the quiet morning, an imaginative mind might have discerned, without difficulty, more than one point of resemblance. The dews sparkling like diamonds on the emerald gra.s.ses, were not brighter or fresher than her eyes;--the merry breeze might have been gayer, but had not half as much thoughtful joy and tenderness as her gentle laugh;--the rosy flush of morning, with all its golden splendor, as of fair Aurora rising to her throne, was not more fair than the delicate cheek.

In a single word, Miss Redbud--about whom we always grow extravagant--was a worthy portion of the bright, fresh morning; and the hardest-hearted individual who ever laughed at childhood, and innocence and joy, (and there are some, G.o.d help them,) would have thought the place and time more cheerful and inspiring for her presence.

Redbud had been reading from a book which lay upon the window-sill.

The idle breeze turned over the leaves carelessly as though, like a child, it were looking for pictures; and the words, "From dear Mamma,"

were seen upon the fly-leaf--in the rough uncouth characters of childhood.

This was Redbud's Bible--and she had been reading it; and had raised her happy eyes from the black heavy letters, to the waving variegated trees and the bright sunrise, overwhelming them with its flush of gold. Redbud was clad, as usual, very simply--her hair brushed back, and secured, after the fashion of the time, with a bow of ribbon--her arms bare to the elbow, with heavy falling sleeves--her neck surrounded with a simple line of lace. Around her neck she wore the coral necklace we have seen her purchase.

The girl gazed for some moments at the crimson and yellow trees, on which a murmurous laughter of mocking winds arose, at times, and rustled on, and died away into the psithurisma of Theocritus; and the songs of the oriole and mocking-bird fluttering among the ripe fruit, or waving up into the sky, brought a pleasant smile to her lips. The lark, too, was pouring from the clouds, where he circled and flickered like a ball of light, the glory of his song; and from an old, dead oak, which raised its straight trunk just without the garden, came the quick rattle of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r's bill, or the scream of that red-winged drummer, as he darted off, playing and screaming, with his fellows.

Beyond the garden all the n.o.ble autumn forests waved away in magic splendor--red, and blue, and golden. The oaks were beautiful with their waving leaves--the little alder tree exquisite in its faint saffron--the tall, tapering pines rose from the surrounding foliage like straight spears, which had caught on their summits royal robes of emerald velvet, green at first, but, when the red light fell upon them, turning to imperial purple, as of old, Emperors of Rome!

All these sights and sounds were pleasant things to Redbud, and she gazed and listened to them with a species of tranquil pleasure, which made her tender face very beautiful. At last her eyes returned to her old Bible, and she began to read again from the sacred book.

She turned the leaf, and came to a pa.s.sage around which faint lines were traced in faded ink;--the words thus marked were those of St.

Paul, so sublime in their simplicity, so grand in their quiet majesty:

"Having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ."

These words had been marked by Redbud's mother, and as the child gazed upon the faded ink, and thought of the dear hand which had rested upon the page, a tender regret betrayed itself in her veiled eyes, and her lips murmured, wistfully, "Mamma." Her down-cast eyes were veiled by the long lashes; and the child's thoughts went back to the old happy days, when her mother had taught her to pray, joining her infant hands, and telling her about G.o.d and all his goodness.

It was not grief which the child felt, as her mental glance thus went backward to the time when her mother was alive;--rather a tender joy, full of pure love, and so far separated from the world, or the things of the world, that her face grew holy, as if a light from heaven streamed upon it. Oh, yes! she needed no one to tell her that her dear mother's desire had been fulfilled--that she was with Christ; and her heart rose in prayer to the Giver of all good, to bless and purify her, and give her power to conquer all her evil thoughts--and pa.s.sing through the toils and temptations of the world, come finally to that happy land where her dear mother lived and loved--from which she looked upon her child. She prayed to be kept thus pure; for strength to resist her sinful inclinations, ill-temper, discontent and uncharitable thoughts; for power to divorce her thoughts from the world, spite of its sunshine, and bright flowers and attractions--to feel that holy desire to be with the dear Savior who had died for her.

The child rose with a countenance that was sacred for its purity, and hopefulness, and trust. She gazed again upon the brilliant morning land, and listened to the birds, and smiled--for in the sunlight, and the carol of the bright-winged oriole, and every murmur of the merry wind, she felt the presence of a loving and All-merciful Creator, who would bless her, if she loved and obeyed Him.

And so the tender eyes again beamed with the unclouded light of childhood, and the lips were again calm and happy. The child had sought for peace and joy from the great central source, and found it.

Everything was now delightful--all the clouds had pa.s.sed--and a bright smile illumined her fresh face, and made the sunlight envious, as it poured its fresh golden radiance upon her brow and cheek.

Redbud had just closed her Bible, and was about to put it away upon the shelf, when a light step was heard in the room, and a laughing voice cried, "Well, miss!" and two white arms encircled her neck, two red lips imprinted a kiss upon her cheek.

The arms and the lips belonged to f.a.n.n.y.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

f.a.n.n.y'S VIEWS UPON HERALDRY.

f.a.n.n.y was overflowing with laughter, and her face was the perfection of glee. Her dark eyes fairly danced, and the profuse black curls which rippled around her face, were never still for a moment.

In her hand Miss f.a.n.n.y carried a wreath of primroses and other children of the autumn, which spread around them as she came a faint perfume. From the appearance of the young lady's feet, it seemed that she had gathered them herself. Her shoes and ankles, with their white stockings, were saturated with the dews of morning.

After imprinting upon Miss Redbud's cheek the kiss which we have chronicled, f.a.n.n.y gaily raised the yellow wreath, and deposited it upon the young girl's head.

"There, Redbud!" she cried, "I declare, you look prettier than ever!"

Redbud smiled, with an affectionate glance at her friend.

"Oh!" cried the impulsive f.a.n.n.y, "there you are, laughing at me, as much as to say that you are not pretty! Affected!"

"Oh, no," said Redbud.

"Well, I don't say you are."

"I don't like affectation."

"Nor I," said f.a.n.n.y; "but really, Reddy, I had no idea that yellow was so becoming to you."

"Why?" asked Redbud, smiling.

"You are blonde, you know."

"Well."

"I wonder if blonde don't mean yellow," said the philosophic f.a.n.n.y.

"Does it?"

"Yes."

"What then?"

"Why, of course, I thought yellow primroses would'nt become you;--now they would suit me--I'm so dark."

"You do not need them."

"Fie--Miss Flatterer."

"Oh, no, f.a.n.n.y, I never flatter."

"Well, I'm glad you like me, then!" cried f.a.n.n.y, "for I declare I'm desperately in love with you, Reddy. Just think, now, how much flattered Miss Sallianna would have been if I had carried these flowers to her--you know she loves the 'beauties of nature.'"

And Miss f.a.n.n.y a.s.sumed a languishing air, and inclining her head upon one shoulder, raised her eyes lackadaisically toward the ceiling, in imitation of Miss Sallianna.

"No, f.a.n.n.y!" said Redbud, "that is not right."

"What?"

"Mimicking Miss Sallianna."

"Not right!"