they beheld the eager face of a brown skinned, fair haired girl very close to his and heard her joyous cry: [Pg 36] [Pg 36] “He sees me! he sees everything! He’s getting well already!” He had never seen anybody like her. Her hair was as abundant as a mantle and rippled over her shoulders like spun silver. So it looked in the lamplight. In fact, it had never been bound nor covered, and what in a different social condition might have been much darker, had in this outdoor life become bleached almost white. The weather which had whitened the hair had tanned the skin to bronze, making the blue eyes more vivid by contrast and the red lips redder. These were smiling now, over well kept teeth, and there was about the whole bearing of the maid something suggestive of the woodland in which she had been reared. Purity, honesty, freedom, all spoke in every motion and tone, and to this observer, at least, seemed better than any beauty. Presently, he was able to push her too willing hand gently away and to say: “Not quite so fast, please.” [Pg 37] [Pg 37] “Oh! uncle! Hear him? He talks just as you do! Not a bit like Pierre, or Joe, or the rest.” Mr. Dutton came forward, smiling and remonstrating. “My dear, our new friend will think you quite rude, if you discuss him before his face, so frankly. But, sir, I assure you she means nothing but delight at your recovery. We are all most thankful that you are here and safe. There, Margot. Let the gentleman rest a few minutes. Then a cup of coffee may be better than the stew. Were you long without food, friend?” The stranger tried to answer but the effort tired him, and with a beckoning nod to the young nurse, the woodlander led the way back to the table and their own delayed supper. Both needed it and both ate it rather hastily, much to the disgust of Angelique who felt that her skill was wasted; but one was anxious to be off out of doors, to learn the damage left by the storm, and the other to be back [Pg 38]on her stool beside the lounge. When Mr. Dutton rose, the housekeeper left her own seat. [Pg 38] “I’ll fetch the lantern, master. But that’s the last of Snowfoot’s good milk you’ll ever drink,” she
Prev.
Back
Top