The Last of the Foresters Part 63

"Willingly."

"There is a bunch of primroses."

"Shall I get it?" said Ralph.

"Yes, sir."

"I think you had better," said Ralph.

"Well, sir!"

"Now, f.a.n.n.y--don't get angry--I will--"

"No, you shan't!"

"Indeed I will!"

The result of this contention, as to who should gather the primroses, was, that f.a.n.n.y and Ralph, stooping at the same moment, struck their faces together, and cried out--the young lady at least.

f.a.n.n.y blushed very much as she rose--Ralph was triumphant.

"I've got them, however, sir," she said, holding the flowers.

"And I had a disagreeable accident," said Ralph, laughing, and pretending to rub his head.

"Disagreeable, sir!" cried f.a.n.n.y, without reflecting.

"Yes!" said Ralph--"why not?"

f.a.n.n.y found herself involved again in an awkward explanation--the fact being, that Ralph's lips had, by pure accident, of course, touched her brow.

It would, therefore, have only complicated matters for f.a.n.n.y to have explained why the accident ought not to be "disagreeable," as Ralph declared it to be. The general reply, however, which we have endeavored, on various occasions, to represent by the word "Humph!"

issued from the young girl's lips; and busying herself with the wreath, she pa.s.sed on, followed by the laughing company.

From the forest, they went to the mossy glen, as we may call it, though that was not its name; and Verty enlivened the company with a description of a flock of young partridges which had there started up once, and running between his feet, disappeared before his very eyes.

Redbud, too, recollected the nice cherries they had eaten from the trees--as nice as the oxhearts near the house--in the Spring; and f.a.n.n.y did too, and told some very amusing stories of beaux being compelled to climb and throw down boughs laden with their red bunches.

In this pleasant way they strolled along the brook which stole by in sun and shadow, over mossy rocks, and under bulrushes, where the minnows haunted--which brook, tradition (and the maps) call to-day by the name of one member of that party; and so, pa.s.sing over the slip of meadow, where Verty declared the hares were accustomed to gambol by moonlight, once more came again toward the locust-grove of "dear old Apple Orchard,"--(f.a.n.n.y's phrase,)--and entered in again, and threw down their treasures of bright flowers and bird's-nests--for they had taken some old ones from the trees--and laughed, sang, and were happy.

"Why! what a day!" cried Ralph; "if we only had a kite now!"

"A kite!" cried f.a.n.n.y.

"Yes."

"An elegant college gentleman--"

"Oh--suspend the college gentleman, if I may use the paraphrase," said Mr. Ralph; "why can't you permit a man to return again, my heart's delight, to his far youth."

"_Far_ youth."

"Ages ago--but in spite of that, I tell you I want to see a fine kite sailing up there."

"Make it, then!"

"By Jove! I will, if Miss Redbud will supply--"

"The materials? Certainly, in one moment, Mr. Ralph," said Redbud, smiling softly; "how nice it will be!"

"Twine, scissors, paper," said Ralph; "we'll have it done immediately."

Redbud went, and soon returned with the materials; and the whole laughing party began to work upon the kite.

Such was their dispatch, that, in an hour it was ready, taken to the meadow, and there, with the united a.s.sistance of gentlemen and ladies, launched into the sky.

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE HAPPY AUTUMN FIELDS.

The rolling ground beyond the meadow, where the oaks rustled, was the point of departure of the kite--the post from which it sailed forth on its aerial voyage.

The whole affair was a success, and never did merrier hearts watch a kite.

It was beautifully made--of beautiful paper, all red, and blue and yellow--and the young girls had completely surrounded it with figures of silver paper, and decorated it, from head to foot, with flowers.

Thus, when it ascended slowly into the cerulean heavens, as said the poetical Ralph, its long, flower-decorated streamers rippling in the wind, it was greeted with loud cries of joy and admiration--thunders of applause and enthusiastic encouragement to "go on!" from Ralph, who had grown very young again--from f.a.n.n.y, even more exaggerated cries.

That young lady seemed to be on the point of flying after it--the breeze seemed about to bear her away, and she clapped her hands and followed the high sailing paper-bird with such delight, that Ralph suggested she should be sent up as a messenger.

"No," said f.a.n.n.y, growing a little calmer, but laughing still, "I'm afraid I should grow dizzy."

And looking at the kite, which soared far up, and seemed to be peeping from side to side, around the small white clouds, f.a.n.n.y laughed more than ever.

But why should we waste our time in saying that the gay party were pleased with everything, and laughed out loudly for that reason?

Perhaps a merrier company never made the golden days of autumn ring with laughter, either at Apple Orchard, where hill and meadow echoed to the joyous carol, or in any other place. Sitting beneath the oaks, and looking to the old house buried in its beautiful golden trees, the girls sang with their pure, melodious voices, songs which made the fresh, yet dreamy autumn dearer still, and wrapped the hearts of those who listened in a smiling, calm delight. Give youth only skies and pure fresh breezes, and the ready laughter shows how happy these things, simple as they are, can make it. It wants no present beyond this; for has it not what is greater still, the radiant and rosy future, with its splendid tints of joy and rapture?

Youth! youth! Erect in the beautiful frail skiff, he dares the tide, gazing with glorious brow upon the palace in the cloud, which hovers overhead, a fairy spectacle of dreamland--real still to him! Beautiful youth! As he stands thus with his outstretched arms, the light upon his n.o.ble face, and the young lips illumined by their tender smile, who can help loving him, and feeling that more of the light of Heaven lingers on his countenance, than on the man's? Youth! youth! beautiful youth!--who, at times, does not look back to it with joyful wonder, long for it with pa.s.sionate regret--for its inexperience and weakness!--its illusions and romance!--its fond trust, and April smiles and tears! Who does not long to laugh again, and, leaning over the bark's side, play with the foaming waves again, as in the old days! Beautiful youth! sailing for Beulah, the land of flowers, and landing there in dreams--how can we look upon your radiant brow and eyes, without such regret as nothing taking root in this world can console us for completely! Ah! after all, there is no philosophy like ignorance--there is no joy like youth and innocence!

The shouts and laughter ringing through the merry fields, on the fine autumn morning, may have led us into this discourse upon youth: the very air was full of laughter, and when f.a.n.n.y let the kite string go by accident, the rapture grew intense.

Verty and Redbud sitting quietly, at the distance of some paces, under the oaks, looked on, laughing and talking.

"How bright f.a.n.n.y is," said Redbud, laughing--"Look! I think she is lovely; and then she is as good as she can be."