Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (30 page)

 
          
           
"Yes, and well it is me. If it had been any of those silly girls, the house
would have been roused by this time. What mischief is afoot that you leave your
bed and play ghost in this wild fashion?"

 
          
           
"Leave my bed! Why, my good soul, I haven't stirred, but have been
dreaming with all my might these two hours. What do you mean, Hester?"

 
          
           
She told him as she relit her lamp, and stood eyeing him sharply the while.
When she finished he was silent a minute, then said, looking half vexed and
half ashamed, "I see how it is, and I'm glad you alone have found me out.
I walk in my sleep sometimes, Hester, that's the truth. I thought I'd got over
it, but it's come back, you see, and I'm sorry for it. Don't be troubled. I
never do any mischief or come to any harm. I just take a quiet promenade and
march
back to bed again. Did I frighten you?"

 
          
           
"Just a trifle, but it's nothing. Poor lad, you'll have to have a
bedfellow or be locked up; it's dangerous to go roaming about in this
way," said Hester anxiously.

 
          
           
"It won't last long, for I'll get more tired and then I shall sleep
sounder. Don't tell anyone, please, else they'll laugh at me, and that's not
pleasant. I don't mind your knowing for you seem almost like a mother, and I
thank you for it with all my heart."

 
          
           
He held out his hand with the look that was irresistible to Hester. Remembering
only that he was a motherless boy, she stroked the curly hair off his forehead,
and kissed him, with the thought of her own son warm at her heart.

 
          
           
"Good night, dear. I'll say nothing, but give you something that will
ensure quiet sleep hereafter."

 
          
           
With that she left him, but would have been annoyed could she have seen the
convulsion of boyish merriment which took possession of him when alone, for he
laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.

 
          
           
"He's a handsome lad, and one any woman might be proud to call her
son," said Hester to Bedford, the stately butler, as they lingered at the
hall door one autumn morning to watch their young lady's departure on her daily
ride.

 
          
           
"You are right, Mrs. Hester, he's a fine lad, and yet he seems above his
place, though he does look the very picture of a lady's groom," replied
Bedford
approvingly.

 
          
           
So he did, as he stood holding the white pony of his little mistress, for the
boy gave an air to whatever he wore and looked like a gentleman even in his
livery. The dark-blue coat with silver buttons, the silver band about his hat,
his white-topped boots and bright spurs, spotless gloves, and tightly drawn
belt were all in perfect order, all becoming, and his handsome, dark face
caused many a susceptible maid to blush and simper as they passed him.
"Gentleman Paul," as the servants called him, was rather lofty and
reserved among his mates, but they liked him nonetheless, for Hester had
dropped hints of his story and quite a little romance had sprung up about him.
He stood leaning against the docile creature, sunk in thought, and quite
unconscious of the watchers and whisperers close by. But as Lillian appeared he
woke up, attended to his duties like a well-trained groom, and lingered over
his task as if he liked it. Down the avenue he rode behind her, but as they
turned into a shady lane Lillian beckoned, saying, in the imperious tone
habitual to her, "Ride near me. I wish to talk."

 
          
           
Paul obeyed, and amused her with the chat she liked till they reached a hazel
copse; here he drew rein, and, leaping down, gathered a handful of ripe nuts
for her.

 
          
           
"How nice.
Let us rest a minute here, and while I
eat a few, please pull some of those flowers for Mamma. She likes a wild
nosegay better than any I can bring her from the garden."

 
          
           
Lillian ate her nuts till Paul came to her with a hatful of late flowers and,
standing by her, held the impromptu basket while she made up a bouquet to suit
her taste.

 
          
           
"You shall have a posy, too; I like you to wear one in your buttonhole as
the ladies' grooms do in the Park," said the child, settling a scarlet
poppy in the blue coat.

 
          
           
"Thanks, Miss Lillian, I'll wear your colors with all my heart, especially
today, for it is my birthday." And Paul looked up at the blooming little
face with unusual softness in his keen blue eyes.

 
          
           
"Is it? Why, then, you're seventeen; almost a man, aren't you?"

 
          
           
"Yes, thank heaven," muttered the boy, half to
himself
.

 
          
           
"I wish I was as old. I shan't be in my teens till autumn. I must give you
something, Paul, because I like you very much, and you are always doing kind
things for me. What shall it be?" And the child held out her hand with a
cordial look and gesture that touched the boy.

 
          
           
With one of the foreign fashions which sometimes appeared when he forgot
himself, he kissed the small hand, saying impulsively, "My dear little
mistress, I want nothing but your goodwill—and your forgiveness," he
added, under his breath.

 
          
           
"You have that already, Paul, and I shall find something to add to it. But
what is that?" And she laid hold of a little locket which had slipped into
sight as Paul bent forward in his salute.

 
          
           
He thrust it back, coloring so deeply that the child observed it, and
exclaimed, with a mischievous laugh, "It is your sweetheart, Paul. I heard
Bessy, my
maid,
tell Hester she was sure you had one
because you took no notice of them. Let me see it. Is she pretty?"

 
          
           
"Very pretty," answered the boy, without showing the picture.

 
          
           
"Do you like her very much?" questioned Lillian, getting interested
in the little romance.

 
          
           
"Very
much,"
and Paul's black eyelashes
fell.

 
          
           
"Would you die for her, as they say in the old songs?" asked the
girl, melodramatically.

 
          
           
"Yes, Miss Lillian, or live for her, which is harder."

 
          
           
"Dear me, how very nice it must be to have anyone care for one so
much," said the child innocently. "I wonder if anybody ever will for
me?
"

 
          
           
 
 "
Love comes to all soon or
late,
 
    And maketh gay or
sad;
 
 For every bird will find its mate,
 
    And
every lass
a lad
,"
 
 

 
          
           
sang
Paul, quoting one of Hester's songs, and looking
relieved that Lillian's thoughts had strayed from him. But he was mistaken.

 
          
           
"Shall you marry this sweetheart of yours someday?" asked Lillian,
turning to him with a curious yet wistful look.

 
          
           
"Perhaps."

 
          
           
"You look as if there was no 'perhaps' about it," said the child,
quick to read the kindling of the eye and the change in the voice that
accompanied the boy's reply.

 
          
           
"She is very young and I must wait, and while I wait many things may
happen to part us."

 
          
           
"Is she a lady?"

 
          
           
"Yes, a wellborn, lovely little lady, and I'll marry her if I live."
Paul spoke with a look of decision, and a proud lift of the head that
contrasted curiously with the badge of servitude he wore.

 
          
           
Lillian felt this, and asked, with a sudden shyness coming over her, "But
you are a gentleman, and so no one will mind even if you are not rich."

 
          
           
"How do you know what I am?" he asked quickly.

 
          
           
"I heard Hester tell the housekeeper that you were not what you seemed,
and one day she hoped you'd get your right place again. I asked Mamma about it,
and she said she would not let me be with you so much if you were not a fit
companion for me. I was not to speak of it, but she means to be your friend and
help you by-and-by."

 
          
           
"Does she?"

 
          
           
And the boy laughed an odd, short laugh that jarred on Lillian's ear and made
her say reprovingly, "You are proud, I know, but you'll let us help you
because we like to do it, and I have no brother to share my money with."

 
          
           
"Would you like one, or a sister?" asked Paul, looking straight into
her
face
with his piercing eyes.

 
          
           
"Yes, indeed! I long for someone to be with me and love me, as Mamma
can't."

 
          
           
"Would you be willing to share everything with another person—perhaps have
to give them a great many things you like and now have all to yourself?"

 
          
           
"I think I should. I'm selfish, I know, because everyone pets and spoils
me, but if I loved a person dearly I'd give up anything to them. Indeed I
would, Paul, pray believe me."

 
          
           
She spoke earnestly, and leaned on his shoulder as if to enforce her words. The
boy's arm stole around the little figure in the saddle, and a beautiful bright
smile broke over his face as he answered warmly, "I do believe it, dear,
and it makes me happy to hear you say so. Don't be afraid, I'm your equal, but
I'll not forget that you are my little mistress till I can change from groom to
gentleman."

 
          
           
He added the last sentence as he withdrew his arm, for Lillian had shrunk a
little and blushed with surprise, not anger, at this first breach of respect on
the part of her companion. Both were silent for a moment, Paul looking down and
Lillian busy with her nosegay. She spoke first, assuming an air of satisfaction
as she surveyed her work.

 
          
           
"That will please Mamma, I'm sure, and make her quite forget my naughty
prank of yesterday. Do you know I offended her dreadfully by peeping into the
gold case she wears on her neck? She was asleep and I was sitting by her. In
her sleep she pulled it out and said something about a letter and Papa. I
wanted to see Papa's face, for I never did, because the big picture of him is
gone from the gallery where the others are, so I peeped into the case when she
let it drop and was so disappointed to find nothing but a key."

 
          
           
"A key!
What sort of a key?" cried Paul in
an eager tone.

 
          
           
"Oh, a little silver one like the key of my piano, or the black cabinet.
She woke and was very angry to find me meddling."

 
          
           
"What did it belong to?" asked Paul.

 
          
           
"Her treasure box, she said, but I don't know where or what that is, and I
dare not ask any more, for she forbade my speaking to her about it. Poor Mamma!
I'm always troubling her in some way or other."

 
          
           
With a penitent sigh, Lillian tied up her flowers and handed them to Paul to
carry. As she did so, the change in his face struck her.

 
          
           
"How grim and old you look," she exclaimed. "Have I said
anything that troubles you?"

 
          
           
"No, Miss Lillian.
I'm only thinking."

 
          
           
"Then I wish you wouldn't think, for you get a great wrinkle in your
forehead, your eyes grow almost black, and your mouth looks fierce. You are a
very odd person, Paul; one minute as gay as any boy, and the next as grave and
stern as a man with a deal of work to do."

 
          
           
"I
have
got a deal of work to
do, so no wonder I look old and grim."

 
          
           
"What work, Paul?"

 
          
           
"To make my fortune and win my lady."

 
          
           
When Paul spoke in that tone and wore that look, Lillian felt as if they had
changed places, and he was the master and she the servant. She wondered over
this in her childish mind, but proud and willful as she was, she liked it, and
obeyed him with unusual meekness when he suggested that it was time to return.
As he rode silently beside her, she stole covert glances at him from under her
wide hat brim, and studied his unconscious face as she had never done before.
His lips moved now and then but uttered no audible sound, his black brows were
knit, and once his hand went to his breast as if he thought of the little
sweetheart whose picture lay there.

 
          
           
He's got a trouble. I wish he'd tell me and let me help him if I can. I'll make
him show me that miniature someday, for I'm interested in that girl, thought
Lillian with a pensive sigh.

 
          
           
As he held his hand for her little foot in dismounting her at the hall door,
Paul seemed to have shaken off his grave mood, for he looked up and smiled at
her with his blithest expression. But Lillian appeared to be the thoughtful one
now and with an air of dignity, very pretty and becoming, thanked her young
squire in a stately manner and swept into the house, looking tall and womanly
in her flowing skirts.