THE RED RIOT OF YOUTH
The rim of the ancient forest still made the boundary of the little
world of Miss Lady. Still she looked out beyond it in query,
yearningly, longingly, though now she found herself more content than
ever in her life before.
It was the daily habit of Miss Lady to ride for a time the big
chestnut saddler which Colonel Blount had devoted to her special use.
Mounted thus on Cherry, she cantered each day over the fields, where
a renewed industry had now set on again. The simple field hands
looked upon her as a higher being, and as their special messenger. If
a baby was sick at a distant cabin, Miss Lady knew of it, and had the
proper aid despatched. If the daughter of this or the other laborer
needed shoes and could not wait until Christmas accounting time, it
was Miss Lady who interceded with the master of the Big House.
"I couldn't get along here without you now," said that stern soul to
her gruffly. "But I reckon you'd better run away again, for I'm
afraid of people that I can't get along without. Besides, you're
spoiling all my dogs, a-honeying of 'em up the way you do."
Miss Lady only laughed at that; though each day she looked out at the
edge of her world.
Sometimes so wistfully did Miss Lady look out beyond the rim of the
forest that she felt interest in the railway trains which carried her
now and then to the cities north or south of her. Sometimes, even,
girl-like she would mount Cherry, jump the front fence in violation
of Colonel Blount's imperative orders, and scurry down to the station
to have a look at the incoming trains. The conductors of all these
trains knew her well, and often the brakeman or the conductor would
hand out to her some package from the city as she rode up close to
the car step, after the train had paused. The picture of Miss Lady
and Cherry was a pleasant one, and more than one passenger peered out
of a car window to see the tall girl who rode so well and who seemed
so sure that all the world meant well and kindly toward her.
Miss Lady was now fully worthy to be called beautiful. She rarely
rode otherwise than bare-headed, and the high-rolled masses of her
hair had grown tawnier and redder for that reason. Her figure gave
perfect lines to the scarlet jacket which so well became her. Her
gauntlets fitted well the small, firm hands, and her foot was ever
well-shod. Ah, indeed, in those days, when Miss Lady for the time
forgot her past unhappiness, almost at times ceased to wonder what
lay out beyond the forest, almost resigned herself to the mere
happiness of a glorious young womanhood--she did indeed seem well-
named as Lady, thoroughbred, titled as by right. Her eyes were wide
and trustful, her lips high-curved, her cheeks pink with the rush of
the air when Cherry galloped hard; her head was high, her gaze
direct. And if, now and again, when the train had departed, Miss
Lady, having come swiftly, she knew not why, rode back again slowly,
she knew not why; if at times her eyes grew pensive as she listened
to the mockers gurgling in the dogwood or on the honeysuckle, her
spirits rose again, and her face was sure to brighten when she came
near to the house and hurried Cherry up to the mounting block. She
was the high-light in all the picture, unconsciously first in the
gaze and thought of all. No woman ever was more worshiped; no, nor
was ever one more fit for worship. Again, as old Jules once had said,
she had become a religion!
One morning Miss Lady, her hair in its usual riot of tawny brown, her
face flushed, her lips laughing as she urged Cherry's nose up to the
car side, was met by the conductor at the step, who called out to her
gaily, "Company to-day." Miss Lady did not fully understand, and so
waited, looking excellently well turned out in the bright jacket and
the dainty gloves which lay on Cherry's tugging rein, as she sat
easily, with the grace of a born horsewoman. And so, before she
understood this speech, the train passed on; and as it passed it
showed to these newly arrived passengers upon the platform this
picture of Miss Lady, one not easily to be surpassed in any land, fit
long to linger in any eye.
It was John Eddring who now gazed at this picture, and who felt rise
to his lips the swift salutation of his soul, tenderer than ever now
in its instantaneous homage. He had not dreamed that she could grow
so beautiful. He had not known that love could mean so much--that it
could mean more than everything--that it could outweigh every human
interest and every human resolve! His heart, long suppressed by an
iron determination; his whole nature, gone a-hunger in the long fight
for success, now at once rebelled and broke all shackles in one swift
instant of its mutiny. He knew now how unjust he had been to himself,
for that he had worked and had not lived. The years broke from him,
and he was young. For with him youth had not been lost, but set
aside, unspent. Now it came to him all at once--the red riot of youth
and love. It must have shone in his eyes, must have trembled in his
touch, as he hurried over the rails at which Cherry's dainty forefeet
now were pausing, and reached up his arms to her, murmuring he knew
not what.
He helped her dismount, and caught then her gaze directed behind him.
John Eddring had forgotten that his mother was with him. She came
forward now, reaching out her hand, then reaching out her arms.
"Child," said the white-haired old lady, "I've heard it all, all your
strange story. My son has come to tell you that you have succeeded at
last. Your case is won!"
She touched Miss Lady's tumbled tawny hair with her own gentle hand.
"My girl," said she, "my dear girl; and you never knew your own
mother? You never knew what that was? My dear, it is very sweet to
have a mother."
Miss Lady, knowing no better thing, kissed her impulsively, and the
older lady drew her close, in such communion as only women may
understand. Mrs. Eddring again touched lightly the red-brown hair. "I
never had a daughter," said she. "I've only a boy. That's my boy
there."
Eddring, who had meantime taken Cherry's bridle rein, was now walking
on in advance toward the lane that led to the house. The girl caught
the old lady's hands in her own, and then threw her arms about the
thin figure in a swift embrace. So, arm in arm, they also turned
toward the lane; and which was then welcoming the other home neither
could have said.