THE NECKLACE.
This was Redbud.
The poor girl presented a great contrast to the lively Fanny, who,
with sparkling eyes and merry lips, and rosy, sunset cheeks, afforded
an excellent idea of the joyous Maia, as she trips on gathering her
lovely flowers. Poor Redbud! Her head was hanging down, her eyes
wandered sadly and thoughtfully toward the distant autumn horizon, and
the tender lips wore that expression of soft languor which is so sad a
spectacle in the young.
At Mr. Ralph Ashley's bow, she raised her head quickly; and her
startled look showed plainly she had not been conscious of the
presence of Fanny, or the young man on the portico.
Redbud returned the profound bow of Fanny's cavalier with a delightful
little curtsey, and would have retired into the house again. But this
Miss Fanny, for reasons best known to herself, was determined to
prevent--reasons which a close observer might have possibly guessed,
after looking at her blushing cheeks and timid, uneasy eyes. For
everybody knows that if there is anything more distasteful and
embarrassing to very young ladies than a failure on the part of
gallants to recognise their claims to attention, that other more
embarrassing circumstance is a too large _quantum_ of the pleasing
incense. It is not the present writer, however, who will go so far
as to say that their usual habit of running _away_ from the admirer
should be taken, as in other feminine manoeuvres, by contraries.
So Fanny duly introduced Mr. Ralph Ashley to Miss Redbud Summers; and
then, with a little masonic movement of the head, added, with perfect
ease:
"Suppose we all take a walk in the garden--it is a very pretty
evening."
This proposition was enthusiastically seconded by Mr. Ralph Ashley,
who had regained his laughing ease again--and though Redbud would fain
have been excused, she was obliged to yield, and so in ten minutes
they were promenading up and down the old garden, engaged in pleasant
conversation--which conversation has, however, nothing to do with this
veracious history.
Just as they arrived, in one of their perambulatory excursions around
the walks, at a small gate which opened on the hill-side, they
discovered approaching them a worthy of the pedlar description, who
carried on his broad German shoulders a large pack, which, as the
pedlar jogged along, made, pretences continually of an intention to
dive forward over his head, but always without carrying this intention
into execution. The traveling merchant seemed to be at the moment a
victim to that species of low spirits which attacks all his class when
trade is dull; and no sooner had he descried the youthful group, than
his face lighted up with anticipated business.
He came to the gate at which they stood, and ducking his head, unslung
the pack, and without further ceremony opened it.
A tempting array of stuffs and ribbons, pencils, pinchbeck jewels and
thimbles, scissors and knives, immediately became visible; with many
other things which it is not necessary for us to specify. The
pedlar called attention to them by pointing admiringly at each, and
recommended them by muttering broken English over them.
With that propensity of young ladies to handle and examine all
articles which concern themselves with personal adornment, Fanny and
Redbud, though they really wanted nothing, turned over everything in
the pack. But little resulted therefrom for the pedlar. He did not
succeed in persuading Redbud to buy a beautiful dress pattern, with
dahlias and hollyhocks, in their natural size and colors; and was
equally unsuccessful with Fanny, who obstinately declined to
reduce into her possession a lovely lace cap, such as our dear
old grandmamas' portraits show us--though this description may be
incorrect, as Fanny always said that the article in question was a
night-cap.
Disappointed in this, the pedlar brought out his minor "articles;" and
here he was more successful. Mr. Ashley bought sufficiently for his
young lady friends at the seminary, he said, and Redbud and Fanny both
purchased little things.
Fanny bought the most splendid glass breastpin, which she pretended,
with a merry laugh, to admire "to distraction." Redbud, without
knowing very well why, bought a little red coral necklace, which
looked bright and new, and rattled merrily as she took it; for some
reason the pedlar parted with it for a very small sum, and then
somewhat hastily packed up his goods, and ducking his head in thanks,
went on his way.
"Look what a very handsome breastpin I have!" said Fanny, as they
returned through the garden; "I'm sure nobody would know that it is
not a diamond."
"You are right," said Mr. Ashley, smiling, "the world is given to
judging almost wholly from outward appearances. And what did you
purchase, Miss Summers--or Miss Redbud, if you will permit me--"
"Oh, yes, sir," said Redbud, looking at him with her kind, sad eyes,
"you need'nt be ceremonious with _me_. Besides, you're Fanny's cousin.
I bought this necklace--I thought it old-fashioned and pretty."
Redbud was silent again, her eyes bent quietly upon the walk, the long
lashes reposing thus upon the tender little cheeks.
"Old-fashioned and pretty," said the young man, with a smile, "did you
not make a mistake there, Miss Redbud?"
"No, sir--I meant it," she said, raising her eyes simply to his
own. "I think old-fashioned things are very often prettier and more
pleasant than new ones. Don't you?"
"I do!" cried Fanny; "I'm sure my great grandmother's diamond
breastpin is much handsomer than this horrid thing!"
And the young lady tore the pinchbeck jewel from her neck.
Mr. Ashley laughed.
"There's your consistency," he said; "just now you thought nothing
could be finer."
Miss Fanny vehemently opposed this view of her character at great
length, and with extraordinary subtilty. We regret that the exigencies
of our narrative render it impossible for us to follow her--we can
only state that the result, as on all such occasions, was the total
defeat of the cavalier. Mr. Ralph Ashley several times stated his
willingness to subscribe to any views, opinions or conclusions which
Miss Fanny desired him to, and finally placed his fingers in his ears.
Fanny greeted this manoeuvre with a sudden blow in the laugher's face,
from her bouquet; and Redbud, forgetting her disquietude, laughed
gaily at the merry cousins.
So they entered, and met the bevy of young school girls on the
portico, with whom Mr. Ralph Ashley, in some manner, became
instantaneously popular: perhaps partly on account of the grotesque
presents he scattered among them, with his gay, joyous laughter. After
thus making himself generally agreeable, he looked at the setting sun,
and said he must go. He would, however, soon return, he said, to see
his dearest Fanny, the delight of his existence. And having made
this pleasant speech, he went away on his elegant horse, laughing,
good-humored, and altogether a very pleasing, graceful-looking
cavalier, as the red sunset showered upon his rich apparel and his
slender charger all its wealth of ruddy, golden light.
And as he went on thus, so gallant, in the bravery of youth and joy,
a young lady, sitting on the sun-lit portico, followed him with her
eyes; and leaning her fine brow, with its ebon curls, upon her hand,
mused with a sigh and a smile. And when the cavalier turned round as
the trees swallowed him, and waved his hat, with its fine feather, in
the golden light, Miss Fanny murmured--"Really, I think--Ralph--has
very much--improved!" Which seemed to be a very afflicting
circumstance to Miss Fanny, inasmuch as she uttered a deep sigh.
Meanwhile our little Redbud gazed, too, from the brilliantly-illumined
portico, toward the golden ocean in the west. The rich light lingered
lovingly upon her golden hair, and tender lips and cheeks, and snowy
neck, on which the coral necklace rose and fell with the pulsations of
her heart. The kind, mild eyes were fixed upon the sunset sadly, and
their blue depths seemed to hold more than one dew-drop, ready to pass
the barrier of the long dusky lashes, which closed gradually as the
pure white forehead drooped upon her hand.
For a long time the tender heart remained thus still and quiet; then
her lips moved faintly, and she murmured--
"Oh, it is wrong--I know it is--I ought not to!"
And two tears fell on the child's hand, and on the necklace, which the
fingers held.