"A thousand to you, Miss Clyde; and each happier than the last!" I said.
"Oh dear, dear!" she exclaimed in mimic dismay; "I am sure I would not care about having so many as that! Fancy a thousand Christmases--why, what an old, old woman I should be then!"
"And a very nice old woman, too," said I.
"Merci pour le compliment, Monsieur," she replied, making me an elaborate curtsey and laughing merrily. "And what have you got there?"
she asked, pointing to a little bunch of violets that I was extracting from my overcoat pocket, and which I had procured for her when Catch met his friend the gardener"s dog.
"I got them for you, Miss Clyde," said I, somewhat bashfully; "and-- and--"
"Oh, _thank_ you, Mr Lorton," she said, quite pleased. "I love violets more than any other flower. You could not have given me a nicer present. I was only wishing for some just now. But, I hear mamma coming down stairs; so, as I"ve not made the tea yet, I must go in-- good-bye!"
"Good-bye," I echoed, clasping her tiny hand in mine. "Good-bye, and many good wishes for the day, _my darling_!" I courageously added the last two words, lowering my voice over them, as she gently closed the door.
She was not offended, if she _had_ heard the term of endearment I used, for she gave me another nice little bow and smile from the window.
Still I think she _did_ hear me. I fancied I saw a conscious look in the dancing grey eyes, a blush yet lingering on her damask cheek.
I went home with joy in my heart--joy which fed upon itself and increased each moment. Don"t you remember what Herder says? Let but the heart once awake, and wave follows wave of newborn feelings--
"So bald sich das Herz ergiesst, Stromt Welle auf Welle!"
I only know that I was as happy as possible, and astonished everybody by the breakfast I ate.
You fancy, perhaps, that I wasn"t really in love, or I wouldn"t probably have been hungry? Nonsense! Let me tell you that happy lovers are always hungry, and have great appet.i.tes. It is only your poor, miserable, disappointed suitors, who are in a state of suspense, that go about with a hang-dog look and cannot eat. I firmly believe that Shakespeare intended to convey the idea that Valentine was mad, or he would never have put into his mouth such ridiculous words as those, that he could "break his fast, dine, sup, and sleep, upon the very naked name of love!" If that gentleman of Verona had been sane knowing how his pa.s.sion was reciprocated and that his lady loved him in return, he would have had just as good an appet.i.te as I had that morning; when, joyous as a bird, I was as hungry as a hunter.
As for dog Catch, you should have seen how he galloped into his oatmeal porridge after his walk--how the oatmeal porridge galloped into him would, however, be a more correct form of expression. You should have only seen him, that"s all!
Next came church; and, of all occasions when church-going strikes even an uninterested spectator, generally lacking in religious zeal, with feelings of unwonted emotion, commend me to Christmas day. Then, to paraphrase the well-known lines of the poet, those in the habit of being regularly present at worship "went the more;" while those go now "who never went before." People make a practice of visiting church on that day who seldom, if ever, attend a religious service at any other time, taking the year all through. It is like the wedding feast to which the lame, the halt, and the blind were invited. Every one goes then; every cla.s.s and clan is represented.
Saint Canon"s was a sight. Its garland-twined oaken columns, its wreath-hung galleries, its scroll-work in the chancel--where "Unto us a son is born," and the message of glad tidings, which the shepherds of Bethlehem first heard when they "watched their flocks by night," and saw the star in the east, two thousand years ago, shone forth in blazonments of red and purple and gold--all reminded the congregation of the festival they had a.s.sembled to commemorate; the day of peace and good- will to all, that had dawned for them once more, as I trust it will dawn again and again for us yet on many more future anniversaries. The place, too, was crammed, contrary to Lady Dasher"s fears concerning the spread of unbelief and the degeneracy of the present age. Everybody was there that could go at all, for it was a year in which we had to be specially mindful of mercies vouchsafed to us. Even old Shuffler, who had not been seen inside a place of public worship before within the memory of man, was not an absentee.
I was not thinking of him, however, nor of the display which the decorations made, nor of the congregation--indeed, I hardly attended to the service. All my thoughts were centred on Min.
A madonna-like face, a pair of honest, steadfast, speaking, grey eyes were ever before me; although I could not actually see her, except when we stood up during the service, according to the ordinances of the rubric, as she sat a long way off. Notwithstanding my usual attachment towards them, I felt inclined to quarrel with the high pews that hid her from my sight; and, I"m afraid, despised Bishop Burnet for his innovation. The vicar, they told me afterwards, preached a simple, beautiful sermon, that struck home to the hearts of every one present; but I heard none of it. My sermon was in my heart, and bore for its text one little word of four letters. O Min, Min! you had a good deal to answer for.
"Long was the good man"s sermon, Yet it seemed not so to me; For he spoke of Ruth the beautiful, And still I thought of thee.
"Long was the prayer he uttered, Yet it seemed not so to me; For in my heart I prayed with him, And still I thought of thee!"
After service, of course everybody met everybody else, each of their own respective little world, at the church door, exchanging those good wishes and seasonable greetings proper to the day.
There was a grand throng without the porch. Horner was there. It would have been nothing at all without him and his eye-gla.s.s. He did not appear to bear me any hard feelings, I was glad to see, for my unkindness of the morning. He nodded affably, and said ""do!" to me, in his usual way, as if he had not met me before.
Min and her mother did not linger as did the other parishioners; so, I had only an opportunity of a pa.s.sing bow, without that other tender little hand-clasp which I had hoped for. But she looked at me, and that was something.
Lady Dasher, however, stopped for a minute or two; so did her daughters.
"Beautiful weather for Christmas, Lady Dasher," hazarded I. She evidently did not agree with me, for she looked about her mournfully, with a down-drawn visage, just as if we were all attending a funeral, of which she was the chief mourner.
"Really, Mr Lorton, do you think so?" came her answer at length.
"Don"t you find it very cold?"
"Dear me, ma! why you said last Christmas that it was too warm!" said her daughter Bessie.
"Ah! Mr Lorton," continued her mother, not noticing her remark, "we never have those good, old-fashioned Christmases that we had when my poor dear papa was alive!"
"No, I suppose not," I answered; "people say that it is because of the vast American forests being gradually cut down, admitting freer currents of air all over the world; while others put the change down to the influence of the Gulf Stream. Still, I dare say, it will all come right again at some time or other."
"Ah, Mr Lorton," said Lady Dasher, "I"m afraid it will _never_ come right again. You are too sanguine, like all young people."
"Oh, "never" is a long day," I said; "we should all be hopeful and merry, I think, at least on this one day in the year."
"I could never be merry again, Mr Lorton," she said, with a prodigious sigh, which seemed to come from the depths of her heart, "since poor dear papa died;" and she then pa.s.sed on mournfully homewards, with Bessie and Seraphine in her wake. Their cheerful faces, as they nodded back and smiled at Horner and myself, contrasted strongly with their mother"s lugubrious visage. I wonder if anybody ever saw her laugh?
I"ve got my doubts about it.
Then came out Miss Pimpernell, her kind old face beaming with smiles as she bowed here and there, and gave a cordial greeting to us young fellows, who still stood around the church porch. She did not forget me, you may be certain. "G.o.d bless you, Frank, my boy!" she said, in her affectionate, purring way; dismissing me home with a light heart to eat the traditionary roast turkey and plum-pudding, at peace with all mankind, and in love with all womankind for her sake.
What a happy, happy day it had been!
That night I pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed Min"s house a dozen times at least, only that I might see her shadow on the blinds, weaving luxurious castles in Spain the while. I would be a great general, a distinguished orator, a famous statesman, a celebrated author! I would do some grand, heroic action. I desired to be "somebody," something, only great and glorious! And yet, as One above is my judge, I had not one selfish craving, not a single purely-personal thought in connection with these mad wishes. It was but for _her_ sake that I longed for honour and fame and advancement. Only for her, only for her!
CHAPTER SIX.
"ECSTASY!"
"...From thy rose-red lips my name Floweth; and then, as in a swoon, With dinning sound my ears are rife, My tremulous tongue faltereth, I lose my colour, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimm"d with delirious draughts of warmest life!"
Some few days after Christmas, little Miss Pimpernell gave a small evening party for the especial delectation of those who had so meritoriously a.s.sisted in the decoration of the church.
Of course, it was not at all like the "barty" the celebrated Hans Breitman "giv"d" to his friends for the imbibition of "lager beer" ad libitum; but still, one may feel inclined to exclaim, in the exquisite broken words of that worthy, "Where am dat barty now?" For, time has worked its usual changes; and all of us have long since been divided, separated, scattered, and dispersed to the four winds of heaven, so to speak, to the severance of old ties, and all kindred a.s.sociations.
I had not had the slightest inkling that the "little affair" was about to "come off" beforehand. I had met Miss Pimpernell out the very morning of the day on which it took place; yet--sly old lady that she was--she hardly gave me a hint of her social intent.
She certainly said that she had a little surprise in store for me; but when I pressed her to learn what that "something" was, she preserved a provoking reticence, declining to enlighten me any further. "No, Frank," she said in her cheery way, "it is of no use your trying to coax me with your "dear Miss Pimpernell," or think to flatter me into divulging my news by false compliments paid to my shabby old bonnet!
No, you shall hear it all in good time, so don"t be impatient. I won"t tell you another word now, my boy, there!" she added finally, trotting off on her parochial rounds and leaving me in suspense until the evening, to exercise my imagination regarding her contemplated "surprise."
Then, however, I was let into the secret; and the party was all the more pleasurable from coming quite unexpectedly. I always like doing things on the spur of the moment, without premeditation. If you look out for anything long beforehand, it is apt to pall on the palate when it arrives within your reach. "Unlooked-for blessings" are generally twice as grateful as those which you are led to expect--so, at least, I have found them.
On my return home from a walk in the evening, I found a little note of invitation awaiting me, in which Miss Pimpernell requested me to come round to the vicarage precisely at eight, "dressed all in my best," like the impa.s.sioned lover of "Sally in our Alley," as she "expected a few friends." She added in a postscript, underlined with one of her characteristic dashes, that _Miss Clyde_ would be there, if that would be any further inducement for me.
Oh Miss Pimpernell, you machiavellian old lady! I would not have thought you could have practised such great dissimulation. Would Min"s presence be any further inducement to me! Wouldn"t it? Oh, dear no, certainly not!
In ten minutes" time I was dressed en regle and at the vicarage.
It was quite a nice little party. Not one too many, and not a single discordant element. Old ladies and gentlemen seemed to have been rigidly tabooed, with the exception, naturally, of our host and hostess, the vicar and his sister; for Lady Dasher, owing to some fortunate conjuncture of circ.u.mstances, was unable to come: Miss Spight was busy at home, entertaining an elderly relative who had suddenly thrown herself on her hospitality; while Mr Mawley was at Oxford enjoying the season with sundry dogmatic Fellows of his own calibre. Minus these charmers, our gathering was pretty much what it had been down in the old school-room at the decorations. There were the Dasher girls, two young collegians from Cambridge--ex-pupils of the vicar--to entertain Bessie and Seraphine, Lizzie Dangler, Horner with his inseparable eye-gla.s.s and faultless toilet, Baby Blake for _his_ entertainment--Miss Pimpernell was a wise caterer--Min, and myself.
Our hostess had so planned that we should all pair off, each lady having her cavalier, as she said, in the good old-fashioned way. She planned very ably, as we had one of the pleasantest evenings imaginable, without any stiffness or formality or being forced to make a toil of enjoyment, in the customary manner of most fashionable reunions: we were not "fashionable," thank goodness. But we had "a good time" of it, as young America says, all the same.