The Last of the Foresters Part 26

f.a.n.n.y had said, in this sly way: "Say you are sick--indeed you are!--you'll cry!"

Verty rose just as she finished, and Miss f.a.n.n.y, with negligent ease, thanked him, and looked out of the window. Verty turned again toward Redbud. She was standing up--one hand resting upon the arm of the sofa, from which she had risen, the other placed upon her heart, as if to still its tumultuous beating.

Verty's troubled glance fled to the tender, sorrowful face, and asked why she had risen. Redbud, suppressing her emotion by a powerful effort, said, almost coldly, that she felt unwell, and hoped he would let her go up stairs. Indeed, (with a trembling voice), she was--not well: he must excuse her; if--if--if he would--come again.

And finding her voice failing her, poor Redbud abruptly left the room, and running to her chamber, threw herself on the bed, and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears.

She had obeyed Miss Lavinia.

Yes! with a throbbing heart, eyes full of tears, a tenderness toward her boy-playmate she had never felt before, she had preserved her calmness. Crying was not wrong she hoped--and that was left her.

So the child cried, and cried, until nature exhausted herself, and rested.

CHAPTER XXII.

HOW MISS SALLIANNA FELL IN LOVE WITH VERTY.

Verty stood for a moment gazing at the door through which Redbud had disappeared, unable to speak or move. Astonishment, compa.s.sion, love, distress, by turns filled his mind; and standing there, on a fine October morning, the young man, with the clear suns.h.i.+ne streaming on him joyfully, took his first lesson in human distress--a knowledge which all must acquire at some period of their lives, sooner or later.

His mixture of emotions may be easily explained. He was astonished at the extraordinary change in Redbud's whole demeanor; he felt deep pity for the sickness which she had pleaded as an excuse for leaving him.

Love and distress clasped hands in his agitated heart, as he threw a backward glance over the short interview which they had just held--and all these feelings mingling together, and struggling each for the mastery, made the young man's bosom heave, his forehead cloud over, and his lips shake with deep, melancholy sighs.

Utterly unable to explain the coldness which Redbud had undoubtedly exhibited, he could only suffer in silence.

Then, after some moments' thought, the idea occurred to him that Miss f.a.n.n.y--the smiling, obliging, the agreeable Miss f.a.n.n.y--might clear up the mystery, so he turned round toward her; but as he did so, the young girl pa.s.sed by him with stately dignity, and requesting, in a cold tone, to be excused, as she was going to attend to her friend, Miss Summers, sailed out of the room and disappeared.

Verty looked after her with deeper astonishment than before. Then everybody disliked him--everybody avoided him: no doubt he had been guilty of some terrible fault toward Redbud, and her friend knew it, and would not stay in his presence.

What could that fault be? Not his costume--not the attempt he had made to intrude upon her privacy. Certainly Redbud never would have punished him so cruelly for such trifling things as these, conceding that they were distasteful to her.

What, then, could be the meaning of all this?

Just as he asked himself the question for the sixth time, there appeared at the door of the apartment no less a personage than Miss Sallianna, who, ambling into the room with that portion of the head which we have more than once mentioned, and the lackadaisical smile which was habitual with her, approached Verty, and graciously extended her yellow hand.

The young man took the extended member, and made a bow. Miss Sallianna received it with a still more gracious smile, and asked Mr. Verty to be seated.

He shook his head.

"I must go away, ma'am," he said, sadly; "Redbud has quarrelled with me, and I cannot stay. Oh! what have I done to cause this!"

And Verty's head sank upon his bosom, and his lips trembled.

Miss Sallianna gazed at him with a curious smile, and after a moment's silence, said:

"Suppose you sit down for a minute, Mr. Verty, and tell me all about this--this--highly intrinsic occurrence. You could not repose your sorrows in a more sympathetic bosom than my own."

And subsiding gracefully upon the sofa, Miss Sallianna made Verty sit by her, and even gently moved her fan before his face, smiling and simpering.

Perhaps the reader may feel some surprise at the change in Miss Sallianna's demeanor toward the young man, the fact of whose existence she had scarcely noticed on the occasion of their first meeting in the garden. The explanation will be neither lengthy nor difficult. Miss Sallianna was one of those ladies who have so profound an admiration for nature, beauty, love, and everything elevated and enn.o.bling, that they are fond of discussing these topics with the opposite s.e.x--exchanging ideas, and comparing opinions, no doubt for the purpose of arriving at sound conclusions upon these interesting subjects. If, in the course of these conversations, the general discussion became particular and personal--if, in a word, the gentleman was induced to regard the lady as an example of the beauties they were talking about, in nature, love, etc., Miss Sallianna did not complain, and even seemed somewhat pleased thereof. Of course there would have been no profit or entertainment in discussing these recondite subjects with a savage such as Verty had appeared to be upon their former interview, when, with his long, tangled hair, hunter's garb, and old slouched hat, he resembled an inhabitant of the backwoods--what could such a personage know of divine philosophy, or what pleasure could a lady take in his society?--no pleasure, evidently. But now that was all changed. The young gentleman now presented a civilized appearance; he was plainly becoming more cultivated, and his education, Miss Sallianna argued, should not be neglected by his lady acquaintances. Who wonders at such reasoning?

Is this the only instance which has ever been known? Do sentimental ladies of an uncertain age always refuse to take charge of the growing hearts of innocent and handsome youths, just becoming initiated in the mysteries of the tender pa.s.sion? Or do they not most willingly a.s.sume the onerous duty of directing the _naive_ instincts of such youthful cavaliers into proper channels and toward worthy objects--even occasionally, from their elevated regard, present themselves as the said "worthy objects" for the youthful affection? Queenly and most lovely dames of uncertain age, and tender instincts, it is not the present chronicler who will so far forget his reputation for gallantry, as to a.s.sert that "I should like to marry" is your favorite madrigal.

Therefore let it be distinctly understood and remembered, as a thing necessary and indispensable to the true comprehension of this veracious history, that the beautiful Miss Sallianna was not attracted by Verty's handsome dress, his fas.h.i.+onable coat, rosetted shoes, well powdered hair, or embroidered waistcoat gently rubbing against the spotless frill--that these things did not enter into her mind when she resolved to attach the young man to her suit, and turn his affection and "esteem" toward herself. By no means;--she saw in him only a handsome young fellow, whose education could not prosper under the supervision of such a mere child as Redbud; and thus she found herself called upon to superintend it in her proper person, and for that purpose now designed to commence initiating the youthful cavalier into the science of the heart without delay.

These few words may probably serve to explain the unusual favor with which Miss Sallianna seemed to regard Verty--the _empress.e.m.e.nt_ with which she gently fanned his agitated brow--the fascinating smile which she threw upon him, a smile which seemed to say, "Come! confide your sorrows to a sympathizing heart."

Verty, preoccupied with his sad reflections, for some moments remained silent. Miss Sallianna broke the pause by saying--

"You seem to be annoyed by something, Mr. Verty. Need I repeat that in me you will find a friend of philosophic partiality and undue influence to repose your confidential secrets in?"

Verty sighed.

"Oh! that is a bad sign," said the lady, simpering.

"What, ma'am?" asked Verty, raising his head.

"That sigh."

"I don't feel very well."

"In the body or the mind?"

"I suppose it's the mind, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am--I am not so much your senior. True, the various experiences I have extracted from the circ.u.mambient universe render me somewhat more thoughtful, but my heart is very young," said Miss Sallianna, simpering, and slaying Verty with her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am--I mean Miss Sallianna," he said.

"Ah! that is better. Now let us converse about nature, my friend--"

"If you could tell me why Redbud has--"

Verty stopped. He had an undeveloped idea that the subject of nature and Redbud might not appear to have any connection with each other in the mind of Miss Sallianna.

But that lady smiled.

"About Redbud?" she asked, with a languis.h.i.+ng glance.

"Yes--Miss."

"What of the dear child?--have you fallen out? You men must not mind the follies of such children--and Reddy is a mere child. I should not think she could appreciate you."

Verty was silent; he did not know exactly what _appreciate_ meant, which may serve as a further proof of what we have said above, in relation to the necessity which Miss Sallianna felt she labored under, as a tender-hearted woman, to educate Verty.

The lady seemed to understand from her companion's countenance, that he did not exactly comprehend the signification of her words; but as this had occurred on other occasions, and with other persons, she felt no surprise at the circ.u.mstance, attributing it, as was natural, to her own extreme cultivation and philological proficiency. She therefore smiled, and still gently agitating the fan before Verty, repeated: