"LIKE DIAN'S KISS."
"Oh, think when a hero is sighing,
What danger in such an adorer!
What woman would dream of denying
The hand that lays laurels before her?
No heart is so guarded around
But the smile of a victor would take it;
No bosom can slumber so sound
But the trumpet of glory will wake it."
Rosemont was one of the most ideally beautiful summer houses in
Fauquier County.
It was a large white mansion, in villa style, surrounded by
flower-gardens and pleasure-grounds, with a charming mountain view,
and, nearer home, the silvery windings of the Rappahannock River
forming the southern boundary of the large estate.
On the afternoon of the picnic Precious Winans swung lazily in a
hammock on the long front piazza, while her favorite, Kay, the immense
mastiff, lay within touch of the tiny white hand that every little
while reached down to caress the tawny head.
At some distance away Mistress Norah, the good-natured nurse, sat
cozily in an armchair, knitting lace.
Along the lattice-work that shaded the end of the piazza clambered a
great honeysuckle vine loaded with odorous, creamy-white blooms. Here
the busy little bees hummed ceaselessly, bright-winged butterflies
hovered, and two robins flew in and out of the branches with straws for
a nest. The golden sunshine sifting through the leaves in light and
shade on the girl's white gown and sunny head seemed like the spirit
of peace spreading its brooding wings over the lovely, quiet scene.
Precious had been reading a book of poems. It lay open now under one
white hand, and with half-shut, dreamy eyes, she was recalling the last
lines she had read:
"Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep impassioned gaze.
"It comes--the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,
In silence and alone,
To seek the elected one."
The velvety blue of the young girl's eyes looked very soft and tender
under the long-fringed lashes that were so dark by contrast with the
sunshine of her hair.
She was wondering when love would come to her, and if she would find it
sweet.
"Ethel is in love, and she seems very happy," she thought. "And there
is Earle--he seems grave and thoughtful lately; and my wise nurse,
Norah, declares it's because he is losing his heart to a lovely girl
down in the village, a little creature with hazel eyes like stars, and
a dimpled face all lilies and roses. I would like to see this pretty
girl, only Norah keeps me almost a prisoner, lest I should be kidnaped
again. I asked Earle about her, and he laughed and colored, and said
perhaps he would bring her to see me some day."
She lifted her voice, and cried out:
"Norah, I wish we could go down to the picnic. I can catch voices
on the breeze--voices and laughter. They seem to be having a lovely
time, and it is so poky here! Earle is there, you know. Do let us go,
too--you and me and Kay!"
"Oh no, my dear, not for the world! The doctor said you were to be very
quiet here."
"But I am quite well again. See how plump my cheeks are, and how rosy!"
"But, my Precious, you are very nervous yet. In your dreams you start
and cry out about the fire, and the dreadful old woman, and your sister
Ethel."
"What about Ethel?" demanded Precious quickly, the delicate color
flying from her cheeks.
Nurse Norah answered placidly:
"In your dreams, dearie, it always seems as if Ethel had been with you
that day when you were struggling to get out of the fire. Once you
cried out, 'Ethel, Ethel, the rope is finished, and you are going down
first, then I will follow. And you will catch me if I fall!' Then again
you cried: 'The rope has broken. Ethel, are you hurt? No, no, I cannot
jump now! I am lost! lost! lost!'"
The beautiful eyes of Precious grew wild and startled.
"Oh, what strange dreams!" she cried tremblingly. "I wish you had not
listened, Norah; they were only dreams!"
"Yes, I know, my pet, but they show that you are not quite strong yet,
and it is better not to go about into society until you are well again.
But I think you ought to have some young girls to visit you, and I will
ask your brother to bring that little star-eyed village girl to see
you."
"She is here now!" cried Earle's voice, with a ripple of laughter in
its low music.
They started and looked, and there he stood with a dripping figure by
his side, a girl in white flannel, bareheaded, with wet brown curls all
over her little head, and starry hazel eyes alight with laughter.
"Miss Conway has had an accident--fallen into the river, Precious, and
I brought her up here for some of your dry clothes, also to make your
acquaintance, as I knew you were lonely," explained Earle easily.
"You poor darling!" cried Precious, and her heart went out to the
little beauty in a swift rush of tenderness. She took Ladybird's hand.
"Come, let us go upstairs. My clothes will fit you, I know!"
Earle detained them a moment.
"I am going down to the telegraph office a moment. Please stay here
till I come back, Miss Conway. I will take you home in due time."
"I thank you," Ladybird answered with a stiff little courtesy, then she
followed Precious and Norah upstairs.
Some dry garments were soon found, and Norah took the wet ones away.
"You shall have them nice and dry directly," she said kindly, but as
she took her way kitchenward, she mused: "This pretty girl reminds me
very, very much of the lovely Miss Clendenon, Mrs. Winans' girl-friend,
that afterward married Mr. Bruce Conway. This one is like her, but
it could not be her daughter, for the little one she named for my
mistress, Grace Willard, died before it was a year old, and poor Mrs.
Conway, sweet little soul, died herself two years after, and I never
heard that she left a child, although to be sure we were abroad then,
and when we got home all the Conways were dead but Mr. Bruce, and he
had disappeared. He always was a rolling stone."
Meanwhile the two young girls, left alone in the beautiful airy room
upstairs, proceeded to get acquainted.
"I don't feel any worse from my ducking, dear, but I'll lie on the bed
awhile and rest," cried Ladybird, rumpling up her wet curls with taper
fingers.
"Do, dear, and tell me all about it. How did you happen to fall in?"
asked Precious.
"It's a long story, Miss Winans," laughingly.
"Call me Precious," said the girl sweetly.
"Thank you, I will; but is that your real name? I never heard of any
one named Precious."
"My real name is Pearl; but my mamma called me Precious Pearl so much
that it became shortened at last to Precious."
"And my name is Lulu, but my dear mamma died soon after I was born, and
then papa could not bear to hear that name spoken, because it had been
hers. So they began with Ladybird when I was little, and it has been
my name ever since, so I will call you Precious if you will call me
Ladybird."
"Very well. And now, Ladybird, you will tell me how you came to fall in
the water."
She saw the hazel eyes flash with laughter, and Ladybird cried:
"Oh, Precious, will you keep it secret? Will you never, never tell?"
"Never!" answered Precious promptly, and then her guest said gayly:
"I was in a little row-boat on the river, and I fell into the water.
They all thought it was an accident, but--you're never to tell any one,
you know--I did it purposely. I fell in for them to jump in and rescue
me."
"But why?" queried Precious, with astonished blue eyes.
"I will tell you," answered the little madcap, with a silvery peal of
laughter. "I have several lovers, Precious, and I wanted to test their
love. I thought the one that loved me best would jump in after me."
"And did he, Ladybird?"
"They _all_ jumped, Precious!"
"All? How many?"
"Twelve," answered Ladybird, with a little _moue_ of actual disgust.
Then the astonishment of the other girl's face moved her to mocking
laughter.
"You darling girl! how surprised you look! But I don't blame you. It
was very silly for them all to jump in after me! I shall never forget
when I lay on the bank after I was rescued, how funny they all looked
in their wet clothes, as they crowded around me!" and she laughed
ungratefully.
"But--_twelve_ lovers!--I never heard of a girl having so many!" and
the younger girl's eyes dilated with wonder.
"Did you never have a lover, Precious?"
"No--I am too young--only sixteen," and Precious blushed at the very
thought of a lover.
"I am only seventeen, and I have a dozen. I thought I had thirteen, but
when I tested them there were but twelve," cried Ladybird, tossing her
dainty head with decided pique.
"Did--my--brother--jump in the water after you?" cried Precious quickly.
"No, indeed--he was not a hero like the others," and Ladybird curled a
disdainful lip.
"Do you like heroes, Ladybird?"
"I adore them! If I ever marry any one, he must be brave and grand. I
couldn't love a coward!"
"I admire heroes too," cried Precious, her cheek glowing with sudden
warmth, her violet eyes shining; and then Ladybird cried eagerly:
"You must admire Lord Chester very much, dear, for I read in the papers
how he rescued you from a burning house. It was grand, was it not? and
I suppose you will be sure to marry him some day, for that is the way
it always turns out in novels."
"You must be very romantic," answered Precious, smiling, though the
crimson blushes seemed to burn her lovely face. A moment later she
added, in a pensive tone: "I have never seen Lord Chester but once. He
is very grand and handsome, but he is my sister Ethel's lover."
"Oh! So he saved your life for her sweet sake! She must really adore
him for his bravery; but I wish he would fall in love with you now, you
beautiful darling!" cried impulsive Ladybird, entirely disregarding
Ethel's claim in her love of romantic denouements.
Norah came in just then with Ladybird's clothing nicely dried and
pressed, and by the time she was dressed, and the fluffy curls dried,
Earle Winans returned to take her home. As it was almost sunset, she
took an affectionate leave of her new friend, promising to keep up
the pleasant friendship begun to-day, neither of them dreaming of the
untoward events that a day was to bring forth.