The Actress' Daughter: A Novel. May Agnes Fleming

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СКАЧАТЬ I can't stay long," said the little one, getting up beside Georgia. "Mother sent me with some things to that poor Mrs. White, whose husband got killed, you know. Oh, Georgia! she's got just the dearest little baby you ever saw, with such tiny bits of fingers and toes, and the funniest little blinking eyes! The greatest little darling ever was! Do come down with me to see it; it's splendid!" exclaimed Emily, her pretty little face all aglow with enthusiasm.

      "No; I don't care about going," said Georgia, coolly. "I don't like babies."

      "Don't like babies! – the dearest little things in the world! Oh, Georgia!" cried Emily, reproachfully.

      "Well, I don't, then! I don't see anything nice about them, for my part. Ugly little things, with thin faces all wrinkled up, like Miss Jerusha's hands on wash-day, crying and making a time. I don't like them; and I don't see how you can be bothered nursing them the way you do."

      "Oh, I love them! and I'm going to save all the money I get to spend, to buy Mrs. White's little baby a dress. Mother says I may. Ain't these flowers lovely in there? I wish we had a garden."

      "Why?"

      "Oh, because it's so nice to have flowers. I wonder Squire Richmond never pulls any of his; he always leaves them there till they drop off."

      "Well, what would he pull them for?"

      "Why, to put on the table, of course. Don't you ever gather flowers for your room?"

      "No."

      "You don't! Why, Georgia! don't you love flowers?"

      "No, I don't love them; I like to see them well enough."

      "Why, Georgia! Oh, Georgia, what a funny girl you are! Not love flowers! What do you love, then?"

      "I love the stars – the beautiful stars, so high, and bright, and splendid!"

      "Oh, so do I; but then they're so far off, you know, I love flowers better, because they're nearer."

      "Well, that's the reason I don't like them – I mean not so much. I don't care for things I can get so easy – that everybody else can get. Anything I like I want to have all to myself. I don't want anybody else in the world to have it. The bright, beautiful stars are away off – nobody can have them. I call them mine, and nobody can take them from me. I like stars better than flowers."

      "Oh, Georgia! you are queer. Why, don't you know that's selfish? Now, if I have any pleasure, I don't enjoy it at all unless I have somebody to enjoy it with. I shouldn't like to keep all to myself; it doesn't seem right. What else do you like, Georgia?"

      "Well, I like the sea – the great, grand, dreadful sea! I like it when the waves rise and dash their heads against the high rocks, and roar, and shriek, and rage as if something had made them wild with anger. Oh! I love to watch it then, when the great white waves break so fiercely over the high rocks, and dash up the spray in my face. I know it feels then as I do sometimes, just as if it should go mad and dash its brains out on the rocks. Oh, I do love the great, stormy, angry sea!"

      And the eyes of the wild girl blazed up, and her whole dark face lighted, kindled, grew radiant as she spoke.

      The sweet, innocent little face of Emily was lifted in wonder and a sort of dismay.

      "Oh, Georgia, how you talk!" she exclaimed: "love the sea in a storm! What a taste you have! Now I like it, too, but only on a sunny, calm morning like this, when it is smooth and shining. I am dreadfully afraid of it on a stormy day, when the great waves make such a horrid noise. What queer things you like! Now I suppose you had rather have a wet day like last Sunday than one like this?"

      "No," said Georgia, "I didn't like last Sunday; it kept on a miserable drizzle, drizzle all day, and wouldn't be fine nor rain right down good and have done with it. But I like a storm, a fierce, high storm, when the wind blows fit to tear the trees up, and dashes the rain like mad against the windows. I go away up to the garret then and listen. And I like it when it thunders and lightens, and frightens everybody into fits. Oh, it's splendid then! I feel as if I would like to fly away and away all over the world, as if I should go wild being caged up in one place, as if – oh, I can't tell you how I feel!" said the hare-brained girl, drawing a long breath and keeping her shining eyes fixed as if on some far-off vision.

      "Well, if you ain't the queerest, wildest thing! And you don't like fine days at all?"

      "Oh, yes, I do – of course I do; not so much days like this, cold, and clear, and calm, but blazing hot, scorching August noondays, when the whole world looks like one great flood of golden fire —that's the sort I like! Or freezing, wild, frosty winter days, when the great blasts make one fly along as if they had wings —they're splendid, too!"

      "Well, I don't know, I don't think so. I like cool, pleasant days like this better, because I have no taste for roasting or freezing," said Emily, laughing. "Oh, I must tell mother about the droll things you like! Let me see what else. Like music?"

      "Some sorts. I like the band. Don't care much for any other kind."

      "And I like songs and hymns better. And now, which do you prefer – men or women?"

      "Men," said Georgia, decidedly.

      "You do! Why?"

      "Oh, well – because they're stronger and more powerful, and braver and bolder; women are such cowards. Do you know the sort of a man I should like to be?"

      "No; what sort?"

      "Well, like Napoleon Bonaparte, or Alexander the Great. I should like to conquer the whole world and make every one in the world do just as I told them. Oh, I wish I was a boy!"

      "I don't, then," said Emily, stoutly. "I don't like boys, they're so rude and rough. And these two conquerors weren't good men either. I've read about them. Washington was good. I like him."

      "So do I. But if I had been him I would have made myself King of America. I wouldn't have done as he did at all. Now, where are you going in such a hurry?"

      "Oh, I shall have to go to Mrs. White's. I've been here a good while already. I wish you would come along."

      "No," said Georgia decidedly, "I sha'n't go. Good-by."

      Emily nodded and smiled a good-by, and tripped off down the road. Georgia stood for a moment longer, looking at the stately mansion, and then was about to go away when a hand was laid on her and arrested her steps.

      Close to the wall some benches ran, hidden under a profusion of flowering vines, and Richmond Wildair had been lying on one of these, studying a deeply exciting volume, when the voices of the children fell upon his ear. Very intently did he listen to their conversation, only revealing himself when he found Georgia was about to leave.

      "Good-morning, Miss Georgia," he said, smilingly; "I am very glad to see you. Come, jump over the fence and come in; you can do it, I know."

      Now, Georgia was neither timid nor bashful, but while he spoke she recollected her not very courteous behavior the previous day, and, for the first time in her life, she hung her head and blushed.

      He appeared to have forgotten, or at least forgiven it, but this only made her feel it all the more keenly.

      "Come," he said, catching her hands, without appearing to notice her confusion; "one, two, three – jump!"

      Georgia СКАЧАТЬ