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Red Rose and Tiger Lily, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 17. Fairy And Brownie |
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_ CHAPTER XVII. FAIRY AND BROWNIE Perhaps it was not the first time that the moon had looked down on a fairy and a brownie running across that old, old lawn. No one could say anything for certain on this point. We all of us have a sort of undying belief in fairies, so perhaps they did exist once, before our hearts had grown too cold and our natures too worldly to understand them. Children know most about them, but even children don't quite believe in them now, in the good old-fashioned way of long ago. A very pretty fairy and brownie were out now. The moon silvered Nell's wings and put a sort of unearthly radiance into her hair, and Boris, with his bright locks standing almost upright on his head, in his quaint little costume, with his upturned toes and ruffled hands, looked quite like a true denizen of fairy land. Certain it is that the man who stood under the shadow of the oak gave a perceptible start when he saw the fairy and brownie. For a moment the old belief of his early childhood flashed through his brain, then he recognised Nell and Boris, and coming to meet them, he took a hand of each. "What is it, father?" exclaimed Boris; "what are you standing out of doors for? I know it's a very warm night, but we want you dreadfully, dreadfully, in the house." Boris rubbed himself against his father's knee as he spoke. Nell clutched Squire Lorrimer's other hand, and raising it to her lips, kissed it passionately. Nell did not speak at all. "Come in, father, come in," repeated Boris; "and where's mother, and what are you doing out here under the oak tree?" "Looking at you little people; you make a gay sight," said the Squire. In spite of himself, his voice was quite hollow. "But why don't you come in?" "I'm not coming in; I'm going back to London again to-night." "Why, father?" asked Nell, opening her lips for the first time, and looking at him with great intentness. The Squire stooped and lifted Nell into his arms. "I did not want you to see me," he said. "I knew you were having your big party to-night, and I had to come to the Towers on--on business. What are you trembling for, Nell? You ought not to be out; you must run back to the house at once; why, you are cold, child." "I'm _not_ cold, and I _will_ stay and kiss you." Nell's arms were pressed tightly round the Squire's neck. Her little soft lips pressed kiss after kiss on his somewhat grisly cheek. Boris, standing on the ground, and looking up at Nell in her fathers arms, thoroughly realised for the first time that he had gone to useless trouble in cleaning the dove's cage. "Now, Nell, you must be sensible," said her father. "I was obliged to come to the Towers to-night to--to fetch something. I knew from Molly's letters that you were going to have a big ball. I thought I'd like to see how the ball-room looked. We have not had a ball, a very big ball, in that room since the days of my great-grandmother. My grandmother has told me about that ball, and about the very window where my great-grandfather stood when he asked my great-grandmother to be his wife. He asked her to marry him at that ball, so of course she never could forget it; and the story of the green dress she wore--apple green--with her golden locks falling over her shoulders, and the story of the window where he proposed to her, have been handed down in the family ever since. To-night, in that same window, the little great-great-grandchild sat, and looked out, and I saw her; now, you must run back, Nell. Boris, you run back, too; run and enjoy yourselves; be happy--God, God bless you." "Why don't you come in, father?" asked Boris. Nell felt as if she could not say a word. There was so much meaning in fathers words; there was so much that he said with his eyes, and with the tight pressure of his arms, which the rather commonplace words he uttered seemed to have nothing to do with. Nell understood, and her heart ached so, she seemed to be turned dumb. The Squire put Nell firmly on the grass. "Run in, both of you," he said. "I must go back to the railway station at once, or I shall miss my train. I am returning to town to-night. Say nothing of this to anyone until the ball is over, then you may tell Molly, if you like, that she will probably see her mother to-morrow. Good night, chicks." "Won't we see you to-morrow, father?" But the Squire's only reply was to stride softly away under the trees. "Why, he's gone," exclaimed Boris with a little cry. "Yes. Didn't you know he was going, Boris? What is the use of making a fuss?" said Nell. She found she could speak quite well again now. "Take my hand and come back to the house; let's do what he said." "Do you think he's put out about anything?" asked Boris. "He seemed dumpy, like; I couldn't say anything about the dove; I knew it hadn't come. Do you think father was sad about anything, Nell?" "He didn't say he was, did he?" asked Nell. "No." "Well, let's come back and dance, or people will miss us. Father said we weren't to say anything until the ball was over, and then only to Molly." "But if Molly goes back to the Grange?" "She mustn't; she must stay here. I'll dance with you now, Boris, if you like." The time had sped faster than the children had any idea of while they were out. But the dancing still continued and went on until a late hour. Then the moment when expectation must yield to a delightful reality arrived. Towards the end of one of the prettiest figures of the cotillion, the fairies and brownies assumed new characters. Either a fairy or a brownie conducted one of the many personages who figured in the fancy ball up to the fairy queen, who, assisted by a number of satellites, bestowed upon each a gift carefully selected in advance to meet the requirements of the special child in question. Each child was expected to drop on one knee to receive the fairy queen's benediction with her gift; they then filed one by one into the supper-room, where refreshments of a particularly ethereal, grateful character awaited them. This scene really ended the never-to-be-forgotten fancy ball. Hasty departures followed. Carriages rolled away with many sleepy and happy little folk, and at last the two carriages which were to convey Sir John Thornton and his party back to the Grange, appeared. Nora was to return with them, and Annie Forest had arranged to specially attend to her comforts. Molly, who intended to come back to the Towers in a day or two, was also wrapping a white shawl round her shoulders preparatory to departure, when a brownie rushed quickly from one of the ante-rooms, flung his arms round her neck, and whispered in her ear. "Oh, Molly, what are you waiting for?" exclaimed Nan. "We're all perfectly dead with sleep, Boris, you naughty boy; you know you have nothing whatever to say; what are you keeping Molly for now?" "I have something to say," replied Boris. "Something most 'portant, I can tell you." His face flushed with anger; he dragged Molly into the ante-room. "There she is, Nell," he exclaimed; "now you can tell her." "What is the matter, Nell, darling?" exclaimed Molly, struck by the expression on her little sisters face. "Molly, Molly," exclaimed Nell, with a sort of gasp in her voice. "What is it, Nell, dear? Do speak; they're all waiting for me and I must go." "Oh, must you go? Do stay, do stay; I have something very important to say; its a message." "A message!" exclaimed Molly; anxiety stealing quickly into her voice; "is it anything about--about father and mother?" "Yes, yes; and nobody else is to know; you will stay?" "Yes, I'll stay. Wait there a minute, and I'll be back with you." Molly ran up to Hester, who was waiting for her in the entrance hall. "Good-bye, Hetty," she said, kissing her; "I'm not going back with you." "What in the world do you mean, Molly?" exclaimed Hester. "You know you have promised to stay with us for another day or two, and I want you to know more of Mrs. Willis, and--why, what's the matter, dear?" "Nell is not quite well, I think," replied Molly; "anyhow, I must stay here to-night; don't say anything to make Nora anxious; good-night." "I am afraid, Hester, that we must not keep the horses waiting any longer," said Sir John in his most measured tones. "Good-night, Molly, we shall be pleased to see you at the Grange to-morrow if you can tear yourself away from domestic cares." Hester went away, the carriage door was shut, and a moment later the last of the visitors had departed. Molly rushed back for one moment to Nell. "I am here," she said, "but if you have a secret to tell me, I can't talk to you for the present without exciting the curiosity of the whole house. Go upstairs and get into bed, and I'll be with you as soon as I can. I daresay my bed is not ready for me, so I'll sleep with you to-night." A ghost of a smile of pleasure flitted across Nell's face as she glided away. Molly went back to the rest of her brothers and sisters. Jane Macalister, still true to her Minerva costume, was seated at the supper table, eating a large slice of cold game pie. "I am famished," she said; "it was the most fatiguing thing I ever did, and the dressmaker has made the sleeves of this horrid dress a great deal too tight, and the neck chokes me. Now, I hope this is the last folly of the kind that we shall have here for many a long day. I, for one, refuse to be laced up in this heathen mythology style again. Now then, my dears, all of you to bed. Molly, what in the world are you staying here for? We didn't expect you, and your room isn't ready." "Oh, I'll sleep with Nell," replied Molly. "Very inconsiderate indeed," replied poor Minerva. "Nell's bed is only large enough for herself, and she's like a feathers weight--with those dark circles under her eyes too. I saw her flying about and absolutely going out on to the lawn this evening. Nell is a great deal too excitable, and certainly her sleep ought not to be disturbed." "I promise not to disturb it," replied Molly; "you know, Jane, I'm not an exciting sort of person." "No more you are, my dear; but it frets me to have my arrangements put out by fads. However, off with you to bed now. Dear me, I am famished. If Minerva felt as I do, I pity her, poor soul. I'll have a glass of stout; there's nothing like it when you're worn out. Good night, Molly." Molly ran eagerly away. She was waylaid by more than one brother and sister on her way upstairs, but at last she found herself in Nell's room. Nell was sitting on the side of the bed; she had not attempted to undress. "Oh, come, this will never do," said the practical Molly; "why, you're ready to drop with fatigue, you poor mite. Here, let me undress you, and you can talk while I'm doing it. Now, what's the trouble?" "It's about father." "What about him?" "He came back to-night; he stood under the oak tree at the end of the lawn. I saw him first, because he pressed his face up against one of the windows and looked in, and afterwards he stood under the oak tree; Boris and I ran out to him." "Yes, yes; go on, Nell." Molly's fingers were trembling now, but they did not cease their busy task of unfastening Nell's clothes. "Go on," she said; "what did he say, and why, _why_ didn't you call me?"
"How do you know, Nell? Don't tremble so, Nell, dear." "Father wouldn't come in," continued Nell, making a brave effort to recover herself. "He told us about our great-great-grandmother and her apple-green dress, and he said that he had come back to fetch something, and that he must return to London to-night; and then he said,'God--God bless you,' and his voice shook just a tiny bit, and he said that mother would be home to-morrow, and----" "Yes, Nell, and----" "Boris said 'Will you come home?' and--but----" "What did he say to that?" "He said nothing to that; he walked away very soft and quick. Molly, what does it mean?" "I don't know," said Molly. "Now, Nell, you must get into bed. You are quite cold and shivery. I am going downstairs to fetch you a little hot wine and water, and then I'll put my arms round you until you sleep." Nell was glad to submit to Molly's most comforting ministrations. "But I think I do know what it means," murmured the elder girl as she listened to the gentle breathing of her little sister by-and-by. _ |
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