'I know not what ails mother,' said Annie, who looked very beautiful, with lilac lute-string ribbons, which Isaw the Snowe girls envying; 'but she has not attended to one of the prayers, nor said "Amen," all the morning. Never fear, darling Lorna, it is nothing about you. It is something about our John, I am sure;for she never worries herself very much about anybody but him.' And here Annie made a look at me, such as Ihad had five hundred of.
'You keep your opinions to yourself,' I replied;because I knew the dear, and her little bits of jealousy; 'it happens that you are quite wrong, this time. Lorna, come with me, my darling.'
'Oh yes, Lorna; go with him,' cried Lizzie, dropping her lip, in a way which you must see to know its meaning; 'John wants nobody now but you; and none can find fault with his taste, dear.'
'You little fool, I should think not,' I answered, very rudely; for, betwixt the lot of them, my Lorna's eyelashes were quivering; 'now, dearest angel, come with me; and snap your hands at the whole of them.'
My angel did come, with a sigh, and then with a smile, when we were alone; but without any unangelic attempt at snapping her sweet white fingers.
These little things are enough to show that while every one so admired Lorna, and so kindly took to her, still there would, just now and then, be petty and paltry flashes of jealousy concerning her; and perhaps it could not be otherwise among so many women. However, we were always doubly kind to her afterwards; and although her mind was so sensitive and quick that she must have suffered, she never allowed us to perceive it, nor lowered herself by resenting it.
Possibly I may have mentioned that little Ruth Huckaback had been asked, and had even promised to spend her Christmas with us; and this was the more desirable, because she had left us through some offence, or sorrow, about things said of her. Now my dear mother, being the kindest and best-hearted of all women, could not bear that poor dear Ruth (who would some day have such a fortune), should be entirely lost to us. 'It is our duty, my dear children,' she said more than once about it, 'to forgive and forget, as freely as we hope to have it done to us. If dear little Ruth has not behaved quite as we might have expected, great allowance should be made for a girl with so much money. Designing people get hold of her, and flatter her, and coax her, to obtain a base influence over her; so that when she falls among simple folk, who speak the honest truth of her, no wonder the poor child is vexed, and gives herself airs, and so on.
Ruth can be very useful to us in a number of little ways; and I consider it quite a duty to pardon her freak of petulance.'
Now one of the little ways in which Ruth had been very useful, was the purchase of the scarlet feathers of the flaming bird; and now that the house was quite safe from attack, and the mark on my forehead was healing, Iwas begged, over and over again, to go and see Ruth, and make all things straight, and pay for the gorgeous plumage. This last I was very desirous to do, that Imight know the price of it, having made a small bet on the subject with Annie; and having held counsel with myself, whether or not it were possible to get something of the kind for Lorna, of still more distinguished appearance. Of course she could not wear scarlet as yet, even if I had wished it; but I believed that people of fashion often wore purple for mourning;purple too was the royal colour, and Lorna was by right a queen; therefore I was quite resolved to ransack Uncle Reuben's stores, in search of some bright purple bird, if nature had kindly provided one.
All this, however, I kept to myself, intending to trust Ruth Huckaback, and no one else in the matter. And so, one beautiful spring morning, when all the earth was kissed with scent, and all the air caressed with song, up the lane I stoutly rode, well armed, and well provided.
Now though it is part of my life to heed, it is no part of my tale to tell, how the wheat was coming on. Ireckon that you, who read this story, after I am dead and gone (and before that none shall read it), will say, 'Tush! What is his wheat to us? We are not wheat: we are human beings: and all we care for is human doings.' This may be very good argument, and in the main, I believe that it is so. Nevertheless, if a man is to tell only what he thought and did, and not what came around him, he must not mention his own clothes, which his father and mother bought for him. And more than my own clothes to me, ay, and as much as my own skin, are the works of nature round about, whereof a man is the smallest.
And now I will tell you, although most likely only to be laughed at, because I cannot put it in the style of Mr. Dryden--whom to compare to Shakespeare! but if once I begin upon that, you will never hear the last of me--nevertheless, I will tell you this; not wishing to be rude, but only just because I know it; the more a man can fling his arms (so to say) round Nature's neck, the more he can upon her bosom, like an infant, lie and suck,--the more that man shall earn the trust and love of all his fellow men.
In this matter is no jealousy (when the man is dead);because thereafter all others know how much of the milk be had; and he can suck no longer; and they value him accordingly, for the nourishment he is to them. Even as when we keep a roaster of the sucking-pigs, we choose, and praise at table most, the favourite of its mother. Fifty times have I seen this, and smiled, and praised our people's taste, and offered them more of the vitals.
Now here am I upon Shakespeare (who died, of his own fruition, at the age of fifty-two, yet lived more than fifty thousand men, within his little span of life), when all the while I ought to be riding as hard as Ican to Dulverton. But, to tell the truth, I could not ride hard, being held at every turn, and often without any turn at all, by the beauty of things around me.
These things grow upon a man if once he stops to notice them.
It wanted yet two hours to noon, when I came to Master Huckaback's door, and struck the panels smartly.