A Daughter of the Forest - Evelyn Raymond (iphone ebook reader txt) š
- Author: Evelyn Raymond
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Margot had run the faster, as soon as she descried poor Reynardās abject state, and had taken him under her own protection, which immediately restored him to his natural pride and noble bearing.
āI think nothing evil of my pet, believe that! See the beauty now! Thatās the difference between harsh words and loving ones. If youād only treat the ābeastiesā as well as you do me, Angelique dear, youād have less cause for scolding. What I think now isāspeckled rooster. Right?ā
āAye. Dead as dead; and the feathers still stickinā to the villainās jaws. Whatās the life of such brutes to that oā good fowls? Pst! Meroude! Scat! Well, if itās milk you will, milk you shall!ā and, turning angrily about, Snowfootās mistress dashed the entire contents of her pail over the annoying cat.
Margot laughed till the tears came. āWhy, Angelique! only the other day, in that quaint old āBook of Beautyā uncle has, I read how a Queen of Naples, and some noted Parisian beauties, used baths of milk for their complexions; but poor Meroudeās a hopeless case, I fear.ā
Angeliqueās countenance took on a grim expression. āMistress Meroudeās got a dayās job to clean herself, the greedy. Itās not her noseāll go in the pail another morninā. No. No, indeed.ā
āAnd it was so full. Yet thatās the same Snowfoot who was to give us no more, because of the broken glass. Angelique, whereās uncle?ā
āHow should I tell? Am I set to spy the masterās ins and outs?ā
āFunny Angelique! Youāre not set to do it, but you can usually tell them. And whereās Adrian? Iāve called and called, but nobody answers. I canāt guess where they all are. Even Pierre is out of sight, and heās mostly to be found at the kitchen door when meal time comes.ā
āThere, there, child. You can ask more questions than old Angelique can answer. But the breakfast. Thatās a good thought. So be. Whisk in and mix the batter cakes for the masterās eatinā. āTis he, foolish man, finds they have better savor from Margotās fingers than mine. Simple one, with all his wisdom.ā
āItās love gives them savor, sweet Angelique! and the desire to see me a proper housewife. I wonder why he cares about that, since you are here to do such things.ā
āAh! The āI wonders!ā and the āIs its?ā of a maid! They set the head awhirl. The batter cakes, my child. I see the master cominā down the hill this minute.ā
Margot paused long enough to caress Tom, the eagle, who met her on the path, then sped indoors, leaving Reynard to his own devices and Angeliqueās not too tender mercies. But she put all her energy into the task assigned her and proudly placed a plate of her uncleās favorite dainty before him when he took his seat at table. Till then she had not noticed its altered arrangement, and even her guardianās coveted: āWell done, little housekeeper!ā could not banish the sudden fear that assailed her.
āWhy, what does it mean? Where is Adrian? Where Pierre? Why are only dishes for three?ā
āPst! my child! Hast been askinā questions in the sleep? Sure, you have ever since your eyes flew open. Say your grace and eat your meat, and let the master rest.ā
āYes, darling. Angelique is wise. Eat your breakfast as usual, and afterward I will tell you allāthat you should know.ā
āBut, I cannot eat. It chokes me. It seems so awfully still and strange and empty. As I should think it might be, were somebody dead.ā
Angeliqueās scant patience was exhausted. Not only was her loyal heart tried by her masterās troubles, but she had had added labor to accomplish. During all that summer two strong and, at least one, willing lads had been at hand to do the various chores pertaining to all country homes, however isolated. That morning she had brought in her own supply of fire-wood, filled her buckets from the spring, attended the poultry, fed the oxen, milked Snowfoot, wrestled over the iniquity of Reynard and grieved at the untimely death of the speckled rooster: āWhen he would have made such a lovely fricasee, yes. Indeed, ātwas a sinful waste!ā
Though none of these tasks were new or arduous to her, she had not performed them during the past weeks, save and except the care of her cow. That she had never entrusted to anybody, not even the master; and it was to spare him that she had done some of the things he meant to attend to later. Now she had reached her limit.
āAngelique wants her breakfast, child. She has been long astir. After that the deluge!ā quoted Mr. Dutton, with an attempt at lightness which did not agree with his real depression.
Margot made heroic efforts to act as usual but they ended in failure, and as soon as might be her guardian pushed back his chair and she promptly did the same.
āNow I can ask as many questions as I please, canāt I? First, where are they?ā
āThey have gone across the lake, southward, I suppose. Toward whatever place or town Adrian selects. He will not come back but Pierre will do so, after he has guided the other to some safe point beyond the woods. How soon I do not know, of course.ā
āGone! Without bidding me good-bye? Gone to stay? Oh! uncle, how could he? I know you didnāt like him but I did. He wasāāā
Margot dropped her face in her hands and sobbed bitterly. Then ashamed of her unaccustomed tears she ran out of the house and as far from it as she could. But even the blue herons could give her no amusement, though they stalked gravely up the river bank and posed beside her, where she lay prone and disconsolate in Harmony Hollow. Her squirrels saw and wondered, for she had no returning chatter for them, even when they chased one another over her prostrate person and playfully pulled at her long hair.
āHe was the only friend I ever had that was not old and wise in sorrow. It was true he seemed to bring a shadow with him and while he was here I sometimes wished he would go, or had never come; yet now that he hasāoh! itās so awfully, awfully lonesome. Nobody to talk with about my dreams and fancies, nobody to talk nonsense, nobody to teach me any more songsānobody but just old folks and animals! And he went, he went without a word or a single good-bye!ā
It was, indeed, Margotās first grief; and the fact that her late comrade could leave her so coolly, without even mentioning his plan, hurt her very deeply. But, after awhile, resentment at Adrianās seeming neglect almost banished her loneliness; and, sitting up, she stared at XanthippĆ©, poised on one leg before her, apparently asleep but really waiting for anything which might turn up in the shape of dainties.
āOh! you sweet vixen! but you neednāt pose. Thereās no artist here now to sketch you, and I donāt care, not very much, if there isnāt. After all my trying to do him good, praising and blaming and petting, if he was impolite enough to go as he didāā Well, no matter!ā
While this indignation lasted she felt better, but as soon as she came once more in sight of the clearing and of her uncle finishing one of Adrianās uncompleted tasks, her loneliness returned with double force. It had almost the effect of bodily illness and she had no experience to guide her. With a fresh burst of tears she caught her guardianās hand and hid her face on his shoulder.
āOh! itās so desolate. So empty. Everythingās so changed. Even the Hollow is different and the squirrels seem like strangers. If he had to go, why did he ever, ever come!ā
āWhy, indeed!ā
Mr. Dutton was surprised and frightened by the intensity of her grief. If she could sorrow in this way for a brief friendship, what untold misery might not life have in store for her? There must have been some serious blunder in his training if she were no better fitted than this to face trouble; and for the first time it occurred to him that he should not have kept her from all companions of her own age.
āMargot!ā
The sternness of his tone made her look up and calm herself.
āY-es, uncle.ā
āThis must stop. Adrian went by my invitation. Because I could no longer permit your association. Between his household and ours is a wrong beyond repair. He cannot help that he is his fatherās son, but being such he is an impossible friend for your fatherās daughter. I should have sent him away, at my very first suspicion of his identity, butāI want to be just. It has been the effort of my life to learn forgiveness. Until the last I would not allow myself even to believe who he was, but gave him the benefit of the chance that his name might be of another family. When I did knowāthere was no choice. He had to go.ā
Margot watched his face, as he spoke, with a curious feeling that this was not the loved and loving uncle she had always known but a stranger. There were wrinkles and scars she had never noticed, a bitterness that made the voice an unfamiliar one, and a weariness in the droop of the figure leaning upon the hoe which suggested an aged and heart-broken man.
Why, only yesterday, it seemed, Hugh Dutton was the very type of a stalwart woodlander, with the grace of a finished and untiring scholar, making the man unique. Nowāā If Adrian had done this thing, if his mere presence had so altered her beloved guardian, then let Adrian go! Her arms went around the manās neck and her kisses showered upon his cheeks, his hands, even his bent white head.
āUncle, uncle! Donāt look like that! Donāt. Heās gone and shall never come back. Everythingās gone, hasnāt it? Even that irreparable past, of which Iād never heard. Why, if Iād dreamed, do you suppose Iād even ever have spoken to him? No, indeed. Why you, the tip of your smallest finger, the smallest lock of your hair, is worth more than a thousand Adrians! I was sorry heād treated me so rudely. But now Iām glad, glad, glad. I wouldnāt listen to him now, not if he said good-bye forever and ever. I love you, uncle, best of all the world, and you love me. Letās be just as we were before any strangers came. Come, letās go out on the lake.ā
He smiled at her extravagance and abruptness. The times when they had gone canoeing together had been their merriest, happiest times. It seemed to her that it needed only some such outing to restore the former conditions of their life.
āNot to-day, dearest.ā
āWhy not? The potatoes wonāt hurt and itās so lovely.ā
āThere are other matters, more important than potatoes. I have put them off too long. NowāMargot, do you love me?ā
āWhyāuncle!ā
āBecause there is somebody whom you must love even more dearly. Your father.ā
āMyāfather! My father? Of course; though he is dead.ā
āNo, Margot. He is still alive.ā
CHAPTER XII CARRYINGPierreās ill-temper was short-lived, but his curiosity remained. However, when Adrian steadily refused to gratify it his interest returned to himself.
āSay, Iāve a mind to go the whole way.ā
āWhere?ā
āWherever youāre going. Nothinā to call me back.ā
āMadoc?ā
āWe might take him along.ā
āNot if heās sick. That would be as cruel to him as troublesome to us. Besides, you need go no further than yonder shore.ā
āThemās the woods you got lost in.ā
āI know them better now.ā
āCouldnāt find your road to save your life.ā
āI
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