IN WHICH REDBUD SUPPRESSES HER FEELINGS AND BEHAVES WITH DECORUM.
In ten minutes, as she promised, Fanny descended with Redbud,--her arm
laced around the slender waist of that young lady, as is the wont
with damsels,--and ready to give battle to our friend Verty, upon any
additional provocation, with even greater zest than before.
Redbud presented a singular contrast to her companion. Fanny, smiling,
and full of glee, seemed only to have become merrier and brighter
for her "cry"--like an April landscape after a rain. Redbud, on the
contrary, was still sad, and oppressed from the events of the morning;
and, indeed, could scarcely return Verty's greeting without emotion.
Resplendent in his elegant plum-colored coat--with stockings, long
embroidered waistcoat, and scarlet ribbon tied around his powdered
hair, Verty came forward to meet his innamorata, as joyous and
careless as ever, and, figuratively speaking, with open arms.
What was his surprise to find that no smile replied to his own.
Redbud's face was calm--almost cold; she repelled him even when he
held out his hand, and only gave him the tips of her fingers, which,
for any warmth or motion in them, might have been wood or marble.
Poor Verty drew back, and colored. Redbud change toward him!--no
longer care for him! What could this frigid manner with which she
met him, mean;--why this cool and distant bow, in reply to his
enthusiastic greeting?
Poor Verty sat down disconsolately, gazing at Redbud. He could not
understand. Then his glance questioned Miss Fanny, who sat with a prim
and demure affectation of stateliness, on the opposite side of the
room. There was no explanation here either.
While Verty was thus gazing silently, and with growing embarrassment,
at the two young girls, Redbud, with a beating heart, and trembling
lips, played with the tassel of the sofa-cushion, and studied the
figure of the carpet.
Fanny came to the rescue of the expiring conversation, and seizing
forcibly upon the topic of the weather, inserted that useful wedge
into the rapidly closing crack, and waited for Verty to strike the
first blow.
Unfortunately, Verty did not hear her; he was gazing at Redbud.
Fanny pouted, and tossed her head. So she was not good enough for the
elegant Mr. Verty!--she was not even worth a reply! He might talk
himself, then!
Verty did not embrace this tacit permission--he remained silent; and
gazing on Redbud, whose color began slowly to rise, as with heaving
bosom and down-cast eyes she felt the young man's look--he experienced
more and more embarrassment--a sentiment which began to give way to
distress.
At last he rose, and going to her side, took her hand.
Redbud slowly drew it away, still without meeting his gaze.
He asked, in a low voice, if she was angry with him.
No--she was not very well to-day; that was all.
And then the long lashes drooped still more with the heavy drops which
weighed them down; the cheeks were covered with a deeper crimson;
the slender frame became still more agitated. Oh! nothing but those
words--"if you would prevent him from suffering"--could bear her
through this trying interview: they were enough, however--she would be
strong.
And as she came to this determination, Redbud nearly sobbed--the full
cup very nearly ran over with its freight of tears. With a beseeching,
pleading glance, she appealed to Fanny to come to her assistance.
Such an appeal is never in vain; the free-masonry of the sex has no
unworthy members. Fanny forgot in a moment her "miff" with Verty, when
she saw that for some reason Redbud was very nearly ready to burst
into tears, and wished to have the young man's attention called away
from her; she no longer remembered the slight to herself, which had
made her toss her head, and vow that she would not open her lips
again; she came to the rescue, as women always do, and with the most
winning smile, demanded of Mr. Verty whether he would be so kind as to
do her a slight favor?
The young man sighed, and moved his head indifferently. Fanny did not
choose to see the expression, and positively beaming with smiles, all
directed, like a sheaf of arrows, full upon the gentleman, pushed the
point of her slipper from the skirt of her dress, and said she would
be exceedingly obliged to Mr. Verty, if he would fasten the ribbon
which had become loose.
Of course, Verty had to comply. He rose, sighing more than ever, and
crossing the room, knelt down to secure the rebellious ribbon.
No sooner had he knelt, than Miss Fanny made a movement which
attracted Redbud's attention. Their eyes met, and Fanny saw that her
friend was almost exhausted with emotion. The impulsive girl's eyes
filled as she looked at Redbud; with a smile, however, and with the
rapidity and skill of young ladies at public schools, she spelled
something upon her fingers, grazing as she went through the quick
motions, the head of Verty, who was bending over the slipper.
Fanny had said, in this sly way: "Say you are sick--indeed you
are!--you'll cry!"
Verty rose just as she finished, and Miss Fanny, with negligent ease,
thanked him, and looked out of the window. Verty turned again toward
Redbud. She was standing up--one hand resting upon the arm of the
sofa, from which she had risen, the other placed upon her heart, as if
to still its tumultuous beating.
Verty's troubled glance fled to the tender, sorrowful face, and asked
why she had risen. Redbud, suppressing her emotion by a powerful
effort, said, almost coldly, that she felt unwell, and hoped he would
let her go up stairs. Indeed, (with a trembling voice), she was--not
well: he must excuse her; if--if--if he would--come again.
And finding her voice failing her, poor Redbud abruptly left the room,
and running to her chamber, threw herself on the bed, and burst into a
passion of tears.
She had obeyed Miss Lavinia.
Yes! with a throbbing heart, eyes full of tears, a tenderness toward
her boy-playmate she had never felt before, she had preserved her
calmness. Crying was not wrong she hoped--and that was left her.
So the child cried, and cried, until nature exhausted herself, and
rested.