Wild Margaret. Garvice Charles

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СКАЧАТЬ the girl; "my name is Margaret. I am Mrs. Hale's granddaughter."

      "She has been expecting you, miss. Keep along the avenue and you'll come to the small gates and see the Court. There are sure to be some of the servants about, and they'll tell you whereabouts Mrs. Hale's rooms are."

      The great gate swung heavily back, and Margaret passed through. The avenue wound in and about for nearly half a mile, and she was thinking that she should never get to the end of it, when at a sudden turn a sight broke upon her which caused her to stop with astonishment.

      As if it had sprung from the ground, raised by a magician's wand, rose Leyton Court. You can buy any number of photographs of it, and are no doubt quite familiar with its long stretching pile of red bricks and white facings; but Margaret had seen neither the place nor any views of it, and the vision of grandeur and beauty took her breath away.

      Far down the line of sight the facade stretched, wing upon wing, all glowing a dusky red veiled by ivy and Virginian creeper, and sparkling here and there as the sunset rays shone on the diamond-latticed windows. The most intense silence reigned over the whole; not a human being was in sight, and the girl was quite startled when a peacock, which had been strutting across a lawn that looked like velvet, spread its tail and uttered a shrill shriek.

      The size and grandeur of the place awed her, and she stood uncertain which direction to take, when a maid-servant, with a pleasant face and a shy smile, came hurriedly through a wicket set in the closely-cut box hedge, and said:

      "Are you Miss Margaret, please?"

      "Yes," she replied.

      "Mrs. Hale sent me to meet you, miss. This way please." And with a smile of welcome, the girl led her through a narrow alley of greenery into a near courtyard which seemed to belong to a wing of the great house. An old fountain plashed in the center of the court and all around were beds of bright flowers, which filled the air with color and perfume. Up the old red walls also climbed blue starred clematis and honeysuckle, through which the windows glistened like diamonds.

      Margaret looked round and drew her breath with that excess of pleasure which is almost pain.

      "Oh what a lovely place!" she murmured involuntarily.

      The servant looked pleased.

      "It is pretty, isn't it, miss?" she assented. "Of course it isn't the grand part of the Court, but I think that it's as beautiful as any part of the terrace or the Italian gardens."

      "Nothing could be more lovely than this!" said Margaret.

      Then she uttered a low cry of loving greeting, and, running forward, threw her arms round an old lady, who, hearing her voice, had come to the open doorway.

      "Why Margaret – Madge!" said the old lady tremulously, as she pressed the girl to her bosom, and then held her at arm's length that she might look into her face. "Why my dear – my dear! Why, how you've grown! Is this my little Margaret? – my little pale-faced Madge, who was no taller than the table, and all legs and wings?" and leading the girl into a bright little parlor, she sank into a chair, and holding her by the hands, looked her over with that loving admiration of which only a mother or a grandmother can be capable; and the old lady was justified, for the girl, as she stood, slightly leaning forward with a flush on her face and her eyes glowing with affection and emotion, presented a picture beautiful enough to melt the heart of an anchorite.

      "Yes, it's I, grandma," she said, half laughing, half crying. "And you think I've grown?"

      "Grown! My dear, when I saw you last you were a child; you are a woman now, and a very" – "beautiful" she was going to say, but stopped short – "a very passable young woman, too! I can scarcely believe my eyes! My little madcap Madge!"

      "Oh, not madcap any longer, grandma dear," said the girl, sinking on her knees and taking off her hat, that she might lean her head comfortably on the old lady's bosom, "not wild madcap now, you know. I am Miss Margaret Hale, of the School of Art, and a silver medalist," and she laughed with sparkling eyes, which rather indicated that there was something of the wildness left notwithstanding her dignity.

      "Dear, dear me!" murmured the old lady. "Such a grand young lady! You must tell me all about it. But there, what am I thinking of? You must be tired – how did you come from the station, dear?"

      "I walked," said the girl.

      "Walked! Why didn't you take a fly, child?"

      The girl colored slightly.

      "Oh, it was a lovely evening and I was tired of sitting so long, and – and – flys are for rich people, you know grandmamma," laughingly, "and although I am a silver medalist, I am not a millionaire yet! But indeed – " she added quickly – "I enjoyed the walk amazingly, it is such a lovely country, and my things are coming on by the carrier. And now I'll go and wash some of the dust and smuts away, and come back and tell you – oh, everything."

      The old lady called the maid, and the girl, still shyly, led Margaret to a dainty little room which overlooked the flowered court, which filled it with the odors of the clematis and honeysuckle and sweetbrier.

      Margaret went to the window, and leaning over, drew in a long breath of the perfumed air.

      "Oh, beautiful! beautiful!" she murmured. "Ah! you should have lived in London for five years to appreciate this lovely place. Mary – is your name Mary?"

      The maid blushed.

      "Why, yes, miss! Did you guess it?" she replied, almost awed by the cleverness of this tall, lovely young creature from London.

      Margaret laughed.

      "Most nice girls are called Mary," she said; "and I am sure you are nice."

      The girl blushed again, but, rendered speechless with pleasure, could only stare at her shyly, and run from the room.

      When Margaret came down it seemed to the old lady that she was more beautiful than before, with her bright soft hair brushed down from her oval face, and her slim, undulating figure revealed by the absence of the traveling jacket. Tea was on the table and a huge bowl of Gloire roses, and the whole room looked the picture of comfort and elegance.

      "Now tell me all about it," said Mrs. Hale, when the girl had got seated in a low chair beside the window, with her teacup and bread and butter. "And you are quite a famous personage, Margaret, are you?"

      The girl laughed, a soft, low laugh of innocent happiness.

      "Not famous, dear," she said, "a very long way from the top of the tree; but I've been lucky in getting one of my pictures into the Academy and gaining the silver medal, and what is better than all, my picture is sold."

      This seemed to surprise the unsophisticated old lady more than all the rest.

      "Dear, dear me!" she mused. "Who ever would have thought that little wild Madge would become an artist and paint pictures – "

      "And sell them, too," laughed the girl.

      "How proud your poor father would have been if he had lived," added Mrs. Hale, with a sigh.

      A swift shadow crossed the girl's lovely face, and there was silence for a moment.

      "And you are quite happy, Madge? The life suits you?"

      "Yes, quite, dear; oh, quite. Of course it is hard work. I paint all day while there is light enough, СКАЧАТЬ