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?"
"Boris tried to catch you up, but you would dance with Hugh Pierson. We
ran out to father and he talked to us. The 'perhaps' has come true,
Molly; oh, Molly, the 'perhaps' has come quite true."
"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.