IN THE FOREST.
MAY, however, was thinking so much of her project that nurse's
displeasure passed over her with but little impression. She only made
up her mind to wait for an opportunity when they were out together, and
she had liberty to enjoy herself.
In the free and happy life which they were leading, she had not much
need, however, for the exercise of patience.
Only the next day, as they all sat at breakfast, Lucia said cheerfully—
"Hands up for a day in the forest?"
Nurse, who had just brought in Queenie's breakfast, smiled as all the
five pairs of hands went up, quicker than one could imagine possible,
while Lucia said—
"Nobody objects, then?"
And after that, they fell to arranging about baskets, and dinner
and tea, kettles and spirit-lamps, till the children were wild with
anticipation.
It was discovered that Lucia had foreseen that little people (to say
nothing of older ones) would be hungry, and had herself walked into
Windsor the day before to order a good supply of dainties. There was
great excitement to find out what she had provided, but she would not
allow a single package to be opened, telling them that they should see
when the time came.
They soon got off, and began the rather hot and uphill walk which led
from the cottage to the outskirts of the forest.
May had her own little thoughts; under her shady hat, her bright eyes
took in the direction and possibilities of every turning and cross
road, but she said nothing, keeping close to Lucia most of the time,
and saying over and over again to herself, "Mother said we were to
enjoy ourselves as much as ever we could, and this is my way!"
Dinner, with Lucia's dainties, was a grand success, and then May's
heart began to beat, and she felt her time had come. Nurse was busy
packing up the plates, Barbara was helping her, Lucia was picking
wild flowers with Queenie, and the two boys were far away, chasing a
butterfly. Now was her time, she thought, if she were to see the Queen!
When the butterfly catchers recollected that they were a good way from
what they called "camp," they made their way back with all speed, and
found nurse resting after her labours by the side of the neatly-packed
baskets, Barbara sorting wild flowers into bunches, while Lucia was
sitting against a tree, with Queenie asleep in her lap.
"Have we been too long?" asked Evan, colouring. "I never guessed it was
such a time—"
"No," answered nurse, "we've been busy; but where is Miss May?"
Ah! Where was Miss May? They waited and waited till they grew anxious,
and wished they had not waited at all. And then they began to search
near at hand, and wished that they had gone in any direction but the
one they had taken. And at last, when all was in vain, and no May was
to be seen, Lucia set out towards the Long Walk, and nurse went in
the opposite direction, while Evan set off homewards with the rest,
promising to send help should the missing sister not be found on the
way.
Meanwhile May wandered under the shady forest trees, stepping over the
bracken, or jumping from patch to patch of bare grass between them,
only intent on getting out of sight of the rest, and towards the wide
road which they had passed a little while ago, where she had made up
her mind the Queen was sure to pass.
The voices of the butterfly catchers had long since been lost, and
nurse's cheerful tones, with Barbara's silvery laugh, had become less
and less distinct, till at last there was no sound in the air but the
singing birds and the waving trees.
May stood still for a moment. She thought it would be wise to take
her bearings, to get into her mind where she was; but when she looked
round, there was nothing in the world to mark the direction she had
come from.
But May did not concern herself greatly about this. If she saw the
Queen, what matter would it be if she had a little trouble in finding
Lucia and nurse again!
So she slowly wandered on, though the silence and stillness of the
forest rather made her heart quake.
At length she came to a road, and this took off the feeling of
loneliness to some extent.
She sat down in a shady place and looked yearningly along it, expecting
every moment to see the cloud of dust approaching, and to live over
again Lucia's old experience of so many years ago.
But no cloud of dust came; no footfall broke the intense quiet of the
scene.
Once a stir among the bracken made her start; but it was only some of
the deer who had not noticed the still little figure till they were
quite close to it, and then had fled away, shy and frightened.
But still the Queen did not come!
As the hours passed away, and the sun began to shine with slanting rays
through the trees, May began to cease to look so earnestly along the
road. Her head turned first in one direction and then the other. Was
it fancy that made her think the forest was full of voices calling her
name?
How fast the sun was sinking! It would be night soon; that solemn,
quiet night which she had never spent anywhere but in her own warm
little bed!
The air played around her and made her shiver, and thoughts of tea and
home began to haunt her.
How many hours must it be since she had had anything to eat? Her
dinner? That had been only a mouthful or two, for her heart had been
beating so with thoughts of her project that she had been unable to
eat. Though she had intended to put some in her pocket, there had not
been the opportunity, for she had feared that Evan's sharp eyes and
sharper tongue would be sure to disclose her secret, should he notice
her doing anything with her sandwiches but eat them.
How she wished that she had not crept away so stealthily when the rest
were scattering after dinner. How ashamed she was now of the answer she
had given Barbara, as she led Queenie off in the other direction.
"I'm just going over there, Barbara, to get some ferns!"
She had stoutly assured herself then that this was not an untruth; but
now—
Poor little May! She was beginning to pay very dearly for her
"enjoyment," as many another does who attempts to snatch what is not
given!
Oh, how weary she was—how cold! How forlorn!
Thoughts of her mother began to fill her mind, and her conscience
pricked her that, although she had carried out the letter of her
mother's directions, she had broken the spirit of them.
She buried her face on her knees, and began to cry, and cried long and
hopelessly, till she seemed to have no tears left. But at last, as she
began to grow quieter, in a kind of resignation to meet her fate, sleep
came down upon her heavy eyelids, and she forgot for a little while
that she was lost.