A Little Girl of Long Ago - Amanda Minnie Douglas (top 100 novels of all time txt) 📗

sentence that goes to my heart. No, do not read him yet awhile, unless it is some of the little things. There is 'Dr. Birch and his Young Friends;' and if you want to be amused you must read his continuation of 'Ivanhoe.' But then you will have neither heroines nor heroes left. And if you and Miss Daisy want to laugh beyond measure, get the 'Rose and the Ring,' that he wrote for his two little girls."

"Oh," said Hanny, "are they at home, in England?"

"Yes, with an aunt."

"Haven't they any mother?"

"They have no mother," he said gravely.

Years later, the novelist was to be one of the little girl's heroes, when she knew all the bravery of his life, and why his little girls were without a mother.

Joe and Daisy returned, and there was a pleasant rencontre; then Delia and Ben came up, and they had a merry chat and a promenade.

"I wonder," as the musicians began tuning again, "if you are engaged for all the dances. Could I be allowed one?"

He took up her card.

"I have been dancing so much already; but Mrs. Jasper said I might try the Spanish dance."

"Oh, then try it with me! I am not too old to dance, if I have come to adoring Thackeray. And I am to go away soon."

"To go away--where?" And she glanced up with an interest that gave him a quick sense of pleasure.

"To Hamburg first; then to find some relations."

"In Germany? But you are not a German?" in surprise.

"I ought to be a Dane, if one's birth counts for anything; and if one's ancestors count, then an old Dutch Knickerbocker," he returned, with a soft, amused laugh. "But I believe I cannot boast of any English descent, such as the son of a hundred earls. That doesn't sound as poetic as the daughter of a hundred earls."

"Who was not one to be desired," interposed the young girl.

"Ah, you read Tennyson then? It is odd, but a good many of us begin on poetry. I like it very much myself."

A touch of thought settled between Hanny's brows.

"Are you wondering about my mixed lineage? Part of it came from the old Dutch governor, Jacob Leisler. My grandfather went to Germany, and ran away with a lady of high degree, and brought her back to America, where my father was born, and lived all his young life, until his marriage. Then business took him abroad, and I was born; and my mother died at Copenhagen. My father is connected with the importing house of Strang, Zahner, & Co., of which Mr. Jasper is a member. He is married again, to a very sweet, amiable German woman. Oh, here we are to take our places!"

Hanny hesitated an instant. She longed to have Mrs. Jasper's approbation.

"We have been looking for you," said Ben. "Let us begin in the one set. Here is Daisy and Joe."

Then it would be all right. She glanced up and smiled with cordial assent.

The old-fashioned Spanish dance was a great favourite at that time, when germans were unknown. Its graceful turns and windings, its stately balances, until the dancers seemed all one long elegant chain, that moved to the perfect time of the music, was indeed fascinating. People danced then. Youth never dreamed of being bored, and walking languidly. Every movement was delicate and refined.

Was she really in some enchanted country? When Mr. Andersen was compelled to leave her, he glanced over or past his partner with an expression so near a smile that Hanny's pulses quickened. When he came back, the light touch of his hand gave her a little thrill that was quite delicious. Now and then they had a bit of conversation.

Once he said, in his charming fashion, that was admiration rather than criticism:--

"Why, you _are_ very petite!"

"Yes; I am not the tall, slim English girl."

"I am very glad. We dance so well together; I wish I were not going away so soon. And you can't guess--you will think it strange,--to American ideas it is; but when I go back I have to hunt up a descendant of this grandmother of high degree who has been making matrimonial overtures to my father on my behalf."

"Oh, that is like a story! And what will you do?"

"I will think about it, and answer you when you return to me."

He gave her to the next partner, with a graceful inclination of the head.

There were numberless evolutions before he could take her again. She glanced up out of sweet, questioning eyes.

"I've been considering," he resumed, as if they had not parted. "You see, it is this way. My father is very, very fond of me, though there are other children. Then I have my mother's fortune, which he has been very watchful of. He is a splendid, upright, honourable man. Now, if your father asked such a thing of you,--what I mean is, if he asked you to see some one and learn how well you could like her or him--"

She was off again. Oh, what a sweet little fairy she was! What poet wrote about twinkling feet? Hers certainly twinkled in their daintiness. He had not considered her prettiness at first; now it seemed as if she was exquisitely fair, with that soft pink in her cheeks.

"Yes. Do you not believe you would go to please him, and see? And you might not like her, and she might not like you. But sometimes people do take sudden fancies. What do you think, looking at it out of an American girl's eyes?"

"I should go for my father's sake."

There was such a delicate gravity in her clear eyes as she raised them a little.

"Thank you," he returned softly. "What an odd thing to talk of in the midst of our dancing! When you are older, you will find people making a confidante of you very often, you seem so serious and truthful."

They were coming down to the end of the winding chain; Mr. and Mrs. Jasper stood there. One more figure, and the cornet and horns and violins gave three long breaths of melody and stopped.

"My dear children," said Mrs. Jasper, as she stretched out her hand. "Daisy, you will be in bed all day to-morrow! Your mother will never trust me with you again, Hanny; I didn't think it would be so long."

"But it was so delightful, mamma." Daisy was in a tumult of pleasure.

"We must go at once. Mr. Jasper will be back by the time we have found our wraps. Doctor, I can't thank you for making such a patient martyr of yourself, only you are always so good. Hanny, have you had a nice time?"

"It has been splendid," with a long, long breath, and shining lights in her eyes.

Delia went to the dressing-room with them.

"I'm going to have two more dances," she said. "It is the first real ball I've been to in a long while. I'm so glad you came. Ben says he never imagined you were so pretty. Think of that, from one's own brother! And Daisy did not shine you down, either."

Hanny kissed her with a sort of rapture. She couldn't understand; she seemed to be walking on the azure clouds instead of solid earth.

Mr. Andersen went to the carriage with them, and said he should surely call when he returned from Philadelphia.

Daisy leaned her head down on her mother's shoulder. She was more tired than she would admit. Hanny's eyes were like stars, and her brain was still filled with wonderful melodies and light airy figures trooping to the ravishing sounds, the shimmering light and sparkle. Doctor Joe just carried her up the steps, and opened the door with his latch-key. But Mrs. Underhill had heard them, and she came downstairs, wrapped in a shawl.

"Oh, Joe, how could you keep her out so late! Do you know it's almost three o'clock?"

Then the mother folded her to her heart. It seemed as if she had been snatched from some great danger; and now that she had her safe and sound, she felt as if she should never let her go again.

"You're all excitement, Hanny; you tremble like a leaf. Such dissipations are bad for growing girls."

"Oh, mother, I think I'm done growing," Hanny laughed, with a soft ring of music in her voice. "I have wanted to be tall like Margaret; but now I do not mind a bit. I think I shall always be father's little girl. And the dancing was so delightful; but you can't think how queer and long the supper was. And Mr. Thackeray really shook hands with me. He has two little girls, and they haven't any mother. If you could have seen Daisy! And she dances beautifully."

"Hanny, your tongue runs like a mill-race. Do keep still, child. Cynthia has you pinned in every fashion. I hope your dress looked nice enough for a little girl. There, I'll take care of them all. You will never want to get up in the morning."

When she had hung the dress out of sight, she felt as if she had her little girl once more. And the little girl fell asleep to the sound of the most delicious music ever floating through one's brain.


CHAPTER XIX

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

Yes, Hanny Underhill was a little girl again in gaiter-length dresses, and her braids tied across at the back of her head. They let her sleep until the latest moment; and then she had to hurry off to school. But her eyes were bright; and she could have danced along the street, if it had been the proper thing to do.

Daisy did not fare so well. She had a headache, and was very languid. Joe said Hanny had better not go down; and that Daisy would be all right to-morrow. So Hanny studied her lessons, and began to read "Vanity Fair" aloud to grandmother. But grandmother said she didn't care about such a silly girl as Amelia; and though there were wretched women in the world, she didn't believe any one ever was quite so scheming and heartless as Becky.

Then Hanny told her father about the dancing, and the partners she had, and Mr. Andersen, who was going back to Germany to marry some distant cousin. Altogether, it was a splendid time, only she felt as if there had been some kind of a Cinderella transformation; and that she was safe only as long as she wore short frocks.

A week afterward, Mr. Andersen returned to the city, and Hanny was invited down to tea at the Jaspers. They had a nice time, only the talk was not quite so charming as when it was interspersed with dancing.

He was to go to Paris also. And now Louis Napoleon had followed in the footsteps of his illustrious uncle, and was really Emperor of France. What a strange, romantic history his had been!

After this, life went on with tolerable regularity. There was plenty of amusement. Old New York did not suffer. Laura Keene thrilled them with the "Hunchback," and many another personation. Matilda Heron was doing some fine work in Milman's "Fazio," and the play of "The Stranger" held audiences spell-bound. Then there were lectures for the more sober-minded people; and you heard youngish men who were to be famous afterward. Spirit-rappings had fallen