Frances Kane's Fortune. Meade L. T.

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СКАЧАТЬ very different from Frances's sober prejudice. Besides, she knows Mr. Spens; he has been our excellent man of business for years. But come, Fluff, I am not going to talk over weighty matters with you. Have you brought your guitar? If so, we'll go into the south parlor and have some music."

      CHAPTER V.

      "FRANCES, YOU ARE CHANGED!"

      "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight – good – nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen – excellent! Oh, how out of breath I am, and how hot it is! Is that you, Frances? See, I've been skipping just before the south parlor window to amuse the squire for the last hour. He has gone to sleep now, so I can stop. Where are you going? How nice you look! Gray suits you. Oh, Frances, what extravagance! You have retrimmed that pretty shady hat! But it does look well. Now where are you off to?"

      "I thought I would walk up the road a little way," said Frances. Her manner was not quite so calm and assured as usual. "Our old friend Philip Arnold is coming to-night, you know, and I thought I would like to meet him."

      "May I come with you? I know I'm in a mess, but what matter? He's the man about whom all the fuss is made, isn't he?"

      Frances blushed.

      "What do you mean, dear?" she asked.

      "Oh, don't I know? I heard you giving directions about his room, and didn't I see you walking round and round the garden for nearly two hours to-day choosing all the sweetest things – moss roses, and sweetbrier, and sprays of clematis? Of course there's a fuss made about him, though nothing is said. I know what I shall find him – There, I'm not going to say it – I would not vex you for worlds, Fan dear."

      Frances smiled.

      "I must start now, dear," she said, "or he will have reached the house before I leave it. Do you want to come with me, Fluff? You may if you like."

      "No, I won't. I'm ever so tired, and people who are fussed about are dreadfully uninteresting. Do start for your walk, Frances, or you won't be in time to welcome your hero."

      Frances started off at once. She was amused at Fluff's words.

      "It is impossible for the little creature to guess anything," she said to herself; "that would never do. Philip should be quite unbiased. It would be most unfair for him to come here as anything but a perfectly free man. Ten years ago he said he loved me; but am I the same Frances? I am older; father says I am old for twenty-eight – then I was eighteen. Eighteen is a beautiful age – a careless and yet a grave age. Girls are so full of desires then; life stretches before them like a brilliant line of light. Everything is possible; they are not really at the top of the hill, and they feel so fresh and buoyant that it is a pleasure to climb. There is a feeling of morning in the air. At eighteen it is a good thing to be alive. Now, at eight-and-twenty one has learned to take life hard; a girl is old then, and yet not old enough. She is apt to be overworried; I used to be, but not since his letter came, and to-night I think I am back at eighteen. I hope he won't find me much altered. I hope this dress suits me. It would be awful now, when the cup is almost at my lips, if anything dashed it away; but, no! God has been very good to me, and I will have faith in Him."

      All this time Frances was walking up-hill. She had now reached the summit of a long incline, and, looking ahead of her, saw a dusty traveler walking quickly with the free-and-easy stride of a man who is accustomed to all kinds of athletic exercises.

      "That is Philip," said Frances.

      Her heart beat almost to suffocation; she stood still for a moment, then walked on again more slowly, for her joy made her timid.

      The stranger came on. As he approached he took off his hat, revealing a very tanned face and light short hair; his well-opened eyes were blue; he had a rather drooping mustache, otherwise his face was clean shaven. If ten years make a difference in a woman, they often effect a greater change in a man. When Arnold last saw Frances he was twenty-two; he was very slight then, his mustache was little more than visible, and his complexion was too fair. Now he was bronzed and broadened. When he came up to Frances and took her hand, she knew that not only she herself, but all her little world, would acknowledge her lover to be a very handsome man.

      "Is that really you, Frances?" he began.

      His voice was thoroughly manly, and gave the girl who had longed for him for ten years an additional thrill of satisfaction.

      "Is that really you? Let me hold your hand for an instant; Frances you are changed!"

      "Older, you mean, Philip."

      She was blushing and trembling – she could not hide this first emotion.

      He looked very steadily into her face, then gently withdrew his hand.

      "Age has nothing to do with it," he said. "You are changed, and yet there is some of the old Frances left. In the old days you had a petulant tone when people said things which did not quite suit you; I hope – I trust – it has not gone. I am not perfect, and I don't like perfection. Yes, I see it is still there. Frances, it is good to come back to the old country, and to you."

      "You got my letter, Philip?"

      "Of course; I answered it. Were you not expecting me this evening?"

      "Yes: I came out here on purpose to meet you. What I should have said, Philip, was to ask you if you agreed to my proposal."

      "And what was that?"

      "That we should renew our acquaintance, but for the present both be free."

      Arnold stopped in his walk, and again looked earnestly at the slight girl by his side. Her whole face was eloquent – her eyes were bright with suppressed feeling, but her words were measured and cold. Arnold was not a bad reader of character. Inwardly he smiled.

      "Frances was a pretty girl," he said to himself; "but I never imagined she would grow into such a beautiful woman."

      Aloud he made a quiet reply.

      "We will discuss this matter to-morrow, Frances. Now tell me about your father. I was greatly distressed to see by your letter that your mother is dead."

      "She died eight years ago, Philip. I am accustomed to the world without her now; at first it was a terrible place to me. Here we are, in the old avenue again. Do you remember it? Let us get under the shade of the elms. Oh, Fluff, you quite startled me!"

      Fluff, all in white – she was never seen in any other dress, unless an occasional black ribbon was introduced for the sake of propriety – came panting up the avenue. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her words came out fast and eagerly:

      "Quick, Frances, quick! The squire is ill; I tried to awake him, and I couldn't. Oh, he looks so dreadful!"

      "Take care of Philip, and I will go to him," said Frances. "Don't be frightened, Fluff; my father often sleeps heavily. Philip, let me introduce my little cousin, Ellen Danvers. Now, Nelly, be on your best behavior, for Philip is an old friend, and a person of importance."

      "But we had better come back to the house with you, Frances," said Arnold. "Your father may be really ill. Miss – Miss Danvers seems alarmed."

      "But I am not," said Frances, smiling first at Philip and then at her little cousin. "Fluff – we call this child Fluff as a pet name – does not know my father as I do. He often sleeps heavily, and when he does his face gets red, and he looks strange. I know what to do with him. Please don't come in, either of you, СКАЧАТЬ