MEETS A PAIR OF BLUE EYES.
I kept pretty quiet the remainder of that summer--didn't even attend
church for several weeks. In fact, I got father to give me a vacation,
and beat a retreat into the country during the month of July, to an
aunt of mine, who lived on a small farm with her husband, her son of
fourteen, and a "hand." Their house was at least a mile from the
nearest neighbor's, and as I was less afraid of Aunt Jerusha than of
any other being of her sex, and as there was not another frock,
sun-bonnet, or apron within the radius of a mile, I promised myself a
month of that negative bliss which comes from retrospection, solitude,
and the pleasure of following the men about the harvest-field. Sitting
quietly under some shadowing tree, with my line cast into the still
pool of a little babbling trout-brook, where it was held in some
hollow of nature's hand, I had leisure to forget the past and to make
good resolutions for the future. Belle Marigold was forever lost to
me. She was Mrs. Hencoop; and Fred had knocked me down because I had
been so unfortunate as to lose my presence of mind at his wedding.
All was over between us.
The course now open for me to pursue was to forever steel my heart to
the charms of the other sex, to attend strictly to business, to grow
rich and honored, while, at the same time, I hardened into a sort of
granite obelisk, incapable of blushing, faltering, or stepping on
other people's toes.
One day, as the men were hauling in the "loaded wains" from the fields
to the great barn, I sat under my favorite tree, as usual, waiting for
a bite. Three speckled beauties already lay in a basin of water at my
side, and I was thinking what a pleasant world this would be were
there no girls in it, when suddenly I heard a burst of silvery
laughter!
Looking up, there, on the opposite side of the brook, stood two young
ladies! They were evidently city girls. Their morning toilets were the
perfection of simple elegance--hats, parasols, gloves, dresses, the
very cream of style.
Both of them were pretty--one a dark, bright-eyed brunette, the other
a blonde, fair as a lily and sweet as a rose. Their faces sparkled
with mischief, but they made a great effort to resume their dignity.
I jumped to my feet, putting one of them--my feet, I mean--in the
basin of water I had for my trout.
"Oh, it's too bad to disturb you, sir," said the dark-eyed one. "You
were just having a nibble, I do believe. But we have lost our way. We
are boarding at the Widow Cooper's, and came out for a ramble in the
woods, and got lost; and here, just as we thought we were on the right
way home, we came to this naughty little river, or whatever you call
it, and can't go a step farther. Is there no way of getting across it,
sir?"
"There is a bridge about a quarter of a mile above here, but to get to
it you will have to go through a field in which there is a very cross
bull. Then there is a log just down here a little ways--I'll show it
to you, ladies"; and tangling my beautiful line inextricably in my
embarrassment, I threw down my fishing-rod and led the way, I on one
side of the stream and they on the other.
"Oh, oh!" cried Blue-Eyes, when we reached the log. "I'll be sure to
get dizzy and fall off."
"Nonsense!" said Black-Eyes, bravely, and walked over without winking.
"I shall never--never dare!" screamed Blue-Eyes.
"Allow me to assist you, miss," I said, in my best style, going on the
log and reaching out my hand to steady her.
She laid her little gray glove in my palm, and put one tiny slipper on
the log, and then she stood, the little coquette! shrinking and
laughing, and taking a step and retreating, and I falling head over
ears in love with her, deeper and deeper every second. I do believe,
if the other one hadn't been there, I would have taken her right up in
my arms and carried her over. Well, Black-Eyes began to scold, and so,
at last, she ventured across, and then she said she was tired and
thirsty, and did wish she had a glass of milk; and so I asked her to
go to the house, and rest a few minutes, and Aunt Jerusha would give
them some milk. You'd better believe aunt opened her eyes, when she
saw me marching in as bold as brass, with two stylish young ladies;
while, the moment I met her sly look, all my customary confusion--over
which I had contrived to hold a tight rein--ran rampant and jerked at
my self-possession until I lost control of it!
"These young ladies, Aunt Jerusha," I stammered, "would like a glass
of milk. They've got lost, and don't know where they are, and can't
find their way back, and I expect I'll have to show them the way."
"They're very welcome," said aunt, who was kindness itself, and she
went into the milk-pantry and brought out two large goblets of
morning's milk, with the rising cream sticking around the inside.
I started forward gallantly, took the server from aunt's hand, and
conveyed it, with almost the grace of a French waiter, across the
large kitchen to where the two beautiful beings were resting in the
chairs which I had set for them. Unfortunately, being blinded by my
bashfulness, I caught my toe in a small hole in aunt's rag carpet, the
result being that I very abruptly deposited both glasses of milk,
bottom up, in the lap of Blue-Eyes. A feeling of horror overpowered me
as I saw that exquisite toilet in ruins--those dainty ruffles, those
cunning bows the color of her eyes, submerged in the lacteal fluid.
I think a ghastly pallor must have overspread my face as I stood
motionless, grasping the server in my clenched hands.
What do you think Blue-Eyes said? _This_ is the way she "gave me
fits." Looking up prettily to my aunt, she says:
"Oh, madam, I am _so_ sorry for your carpet."
"Your dress!" exclaimed Aunt Jerusha.
"Never mind _that_, madam. It can go to the laundry."
"Well, I never!" continued aunt, flying about for a towel, and wiping
her off as well as she could; "but John Flutter is so careless. He's
_always_ blundering. He means well enough, but he's bashful. You'd
think a clerk in a dry-goods store would get over it some time now,
wouldn't you? Well, young ladies, I'll get some more milk for you; but
I won't trust it in _his_ hands."
When Aunt Jerusha let the cat out of the bag about my bashfulness,
Blue-Eyes flashed, at me from under her long eyelashes a glance so
roguish, so perfectly infatuating, that my heart behaved like a
thermometer that is plunged first into a tea-kettle and then into
snow; it went up into my throat, and then down into my boots. I still
grasped the server and stood there like a revolving lantern--one
minute white, another red. Finally my heart settled into my boots. It
was evident that fate was against me. I was _doomed_ to go on leading
a blundering existence. My admiration for this lovely girl was already
a thousand times stronger than any feeling I had ever had for Belle
Marigold. Yet how ridiculous I must appear to her. How politely she
was laughing at me.
The sense of this, and the certainty that I was born to blunder, came
home to me with crushing weight. I turned slowly to Aunt Jerusha, who
was bringing fresh milk, and said, with a simplicity to which pathos
must have given dignity:
"Aunt, will you show them the way to Widow Cooper's? I am going to the
barn to hang myself," and I walked out.
"Is he in earnest?" I heard Blue-Eyes inquire.
"Wall, now, I shouldn't be surprised," avowed Aunt Jerusha. "He's been
powerful low-spirited lately. You see, ladies, he was born that
bashful that life is a burden to him."
I walked on in the direction of the barn; I would not pause to listen
or to cast a backward glance. Doubtless, my relative told them of my
previous futile attempt to poison myself--perhaps became so interested
in relating anecdotes of her nephew's peculiar temperament, that she
forgot the present danger which threatened him. At least, it was some
time before she troubled herself to follow me to ascertain if my
threat meant anything serious.
When she finally arrived at the large double door, standing wide open
for the entrance of the loaded wagons, she gave a sudden shriek.
I was standing on the beam which supported the light flooring of the
hay-loft; beneath was the threshing-floor; above me the great rafters
of the barn, and around one of these I had fastened a rope, the other
terminus of which was knotted about my neck.
I stood ready for the fatal leap.
As she screamed, I slightly raised my hand:
"Silence, Aunt Jerusha, and receive my parting instructions. Tell
Blue-Eyes that I love her madly, but not to blame herself for my
untimely end. The ruin of her dress was only the last drop in the
cup--the last straw on the camel's back. Farewell!" and as she threw
up her arms and shrieked to me to desist, I rolled up my eyes--and
sprang from the beam.
For a moment I thought myself dead. The experience was different from
what I had anticipated. Instead of feeling choked, I had a pain in my
legs, and it seemed to me that I had been shut together like an
opera-glass. Still I knew that I must be dead, and I kept very quiet
until the sound of little screams and gurgles of--what?--_laughter_,
smote my ears!
Then I opened my eyes and looked about. I was not dangling in the air
overhead, but standing on the threshing-floor, with a bit of broken
halter about my neck. The rope had played traitor and given way
without even chafing my throat.
[Illustration: "I STOOD READY FOR THE FATAL LEAP."]
I dare say the sight of me, standing there with my eyes closed and
looking fully convinced that I was dead, must have been vastly
amusing to the two young ladies, who had followed Aunt Jerusha to the
door. They laughed as if I had been the prince of clowns, and had just
performed a most funny trick in the ring. I began to feel as if I had,
too.
Aunt rushed forward and gave me a shake.
"Another blunder, John," she said; "it's plain as the nose on a man's
face that Providence never intended you to commit suicide."
And then Blue-Eyes, repressing her mirth, came forward, half shy and
half coaxing, and said to me:
"How my sister and I would feel if you had killed yourself on our
account! Come! do please show us the way to our boarding-house. Mamma
will be so anxious about us."
Cunning witch! she knows, how to twist a man around her little finger.
"Come," she continued, "let _me_ untie this ugly rope."
And I did let her, and picked up my hat to walk with them to the Widow
Cooper's.
They made themselves very agreeable on the way--so that I would think
no more of hanging myself, I suppose.
Only one more little incident occurred on the road. We met a tramp. He
was a roughly-dressed fellow, with a straw hat such as farmers wear,
whose broad brim nearly hid his face. He sauntered up impudently, and,
before we could pass him, he chucked Blue-Eyes under the chin. In
less than half a second he was flying backward over the rail fence,
although he was a tall fellow, more than my weight.
"Now," said I proudly to myself, "she will forget that unlucky circus
performance in the barn."
Imagine my sensations when she turned on me with the fire flashing out
of those soft blue eyes.
"What did you fling my brother over the fence for?"
That was what she asked me.