CHAPTER XXVI.
PET “RESPECTFULLY DECLINES.”
“Doubt the stars are fire —
Doubt the sun doth move —
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.”
– Hamlet.
In all the ardor of his momentary excitement, Mr. Toosypegs got astride of a serious-looking pony, a family relation of the admiral’s favorite nag, Ringbone, and set out at a shuffling gallop for Heath Hill. Mr. Toosypegs did not look quite so pretty on horseback as some people might suppose: for he went jigging up and down with every motion of his steed, and being remarkably long in the legs, his feet were never more than a few inches from the ground; so that altogether, he was not the most dashing rider you would have selected to lead a charge of cavalry. But Mr. Toosypegs was not thinking of his looks just then, but of a far more important subject – trying to screw his courage to the sticking-point. The further he went, the faster his new-found courage began oozing away. As the White Squall receded, so did his daring determination; and as the full extent of the mission he was on burst out on him, a cold perspiration slowly burst out on his face, despite the warmth of the day.
“Good gracious! it’s going to be awful; I know it is!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, wiping his face with the cuff of his coat. “And how I’m ever going to get through with it, I’m sure I don’t know. I wish to goodness I had never said nothing about it! If only knew any man that’s in the habit of proposing, he could tell me how they do it, and then I wouldn’t mind. But now – by granny! I’ve a good mind to turn, and go right back to Dismal Hollow. But then, the admiral – what will he say? Well, I don’t care what he says. How would he like to go and pop the question himself, I wonder? By gracious! I will go back. It’s no use thinking about it; for I’d sooner be chawed alive by rattlesnakes, and then kicked to death by grasshoppers, than go and tell Miss Pet the way I feel. I couldn’t tell her the way I feel; it's the most peculiar sensation ever was. And them black eyes of hers! Land of hope and blessed promise! the way they do go right through a fellow’s vest-pattern! How in the world so many men can manage to get married is more than I know; for I’d sooner march up to the muzzle of a pistol while Old Nick held the trigger, than go and do it! Whoa, Charlie! Turn round. I’m going home to Dismal Hollow!”
Whir, whir, whir! came something, with lightning-like rapidity, over the soft heath. Mr. Toosypegs turned round; and there came Miss Pet herself, flying along like the wind, on her fleet Arabian, her cheeks crimson, her splendid eyes blazing, her red lips smiling; her short, jetty curls flying in the wind she herself raised; her long, raven-black plume just touching her scarlet cheeks; the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight from her dazzling eyes and hair. She was bewildering, dazzling, blinding! Mr. Toosypegs had his breath completely taken away as his heart had long since been, and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever. Every idea was instantaneously put to flight by this little dark, bright bird-of-paradise – this blinding little grenade, all fire, and jets, and sparkles.
“Halloa, Orlando! Your very humble servant!” shouted Pet, as she laughingly dashed up, touching her hat gallantly to the gentleman. “How does your imperial highness find yourself this glorious day?”
“A – pretty miserable, thank you. A – I mean I ain’t very well, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, stammering, and breaking down.
“Not very well, eh? Why, what’s the matter? Not cholera-morbus, or measles or a galloping-decline, or anything – is it?” said Pet, in a tone of deepest anxiety. “The gods forbid anything should happen to you, Orlando, for the sake of all Judestown girls whose hearts you have broken! You do look sort of blue – a prey to ‘green and yellow melancholy,’ I shouldn’t wonder! Make Miss Priscilla apply a mustard-poultice when you get home – it doesn’t matter where – and go to bed with your feet in a tub of hot water, and I’ll bet you anything you’ll be as well as ever, if not considerably better, in the morning. I’m going to take in nursing some of these days, and ought to know!”
“Miss Pet, it’s real good of you to advise me, and I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully; “but, at the same time, I don’t believe mustard-poultices and tubs of hot water would do me the first mite of good. No, Miss Pet, not all the hot water in all the hot springs that ever was, could do me the least good,” said Mr. Toosypegs, firmly. “I’m in that state that nothing can do me any good – no, no, nothing!” repeated Mr. Toosypegs, with increased firmness. “It’s all internal, you see, Miss Pet.”
“Oh! is it?” said Pet, puckering up her mouth as if she was going to whistle. “You ought to take something, then, and drive it out! Hot gin, or burnt brandy and cayenne is good – excessively good – though not so nice to take as some things I’ve tasted. Just you take a pint or so of hot burnt brandy and cayenne to-night, before going to bed, and you’ll see it will be all out in a severe rash early to-morrow morning. I’m advising you for your good, Orlando; for I feel like a mother to you – in fact, I feel a motherly interest in all the nice young men in Judestown and the surrounding country generally, for any extent you please, and am always ready to give them no end of good advice, if they only take it.”
“It’s real good of you, Miss Pet I’m sure,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wincing, as the very thought of the hot brandy and cayenne brought tears to his eyes, “and I would be real glad to take your advice, and brandy, only what ails me can’t be brought out in a rash. No, Miss Pet, all the brandy from here to Brandywine,” said Mr. Toosypegs – with a hazy idea that all ardent spirits came from that place – “couldn’t do it. It’s real good of you, though, to recommend it; and I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure.”
“Well, really, I’m afraid I’ll have to give the case up, though I hate to do it. What’s the symptoms, Orlando?”
“The what, Miss Pet?”
“The symptoms, you know – I don’t exactly understand the word myself; and I forgot my dictionary when I was coming away. It means, though, the feelings or something that way – how do you feel as a general thing?”
“Well, I can’t say I feel very well,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully. “I’m sort of restless, and can’t sleep of nights!”
“Ah! that’s owing to the musketoes!” said Pet. “That ain’t dangerous. Go on.”
“No, Miss Pet, it’s not the musketoes; it’s my feelings,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with increased mournfulness. “I’ve lost my appetite!”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t wonder at that, either,” again interrupted Pet. “Miss Priscilla half-starves you over there – I know she does. Just you come over and dine with us two or three times a week, at Heath Hill, and you’ll be astonished slightly at the way you’ll find your appetite again. Oh, I don’t despair of you at all!”
“Miss Pet,” burst out Mr. Toosypegs, in a sort of desperation, “it’s very good of you to ask me, and I’m very much obliged to you; but you don’t understand my feelings at all. It’s an unfortunate attachment – ”
“An attachment?” exclaimed Pet. “Whew! that is bad. Why, Orlando, I didn’t think you owed anybody anything. When was this attachment issued against you?”
“Oh, Miss Pet! can’t you understand? My gracious! that ain’t the sort of attachment I mean at all. It’s not legal – ”
“Then it’s illegal,” said Miss Pet, with a profoundly-shocked expression of countenance. “Why, Mr. Toosypegs, where do you expect to go to? I never expected to have any such confession from your lips. An illegal attachment! Mr. Toosypegs, the community generally look upon you as a highly exemplary young man, but I feel it my painful duty to announce to them immediately how they have been deceived. An illegal attachment! Oh, my stars and garters! Excuse me, Mr. Toosypegs, but after such a highly improper confession, I must bid you good-morning. No young and unsuspecting female like me can be seen with propriety in your company for the future. I am very sorry, Mr. Toosypegs, and I should never have suspected you of such shocking conduct had you not confessed it yourself.” And Pet drew herself up, and put on that severely moral expression only seen on the faces of school-mistresses and committeemen when lecturing young ideas on the proper way to shoot.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, in a distracted tone, nearly driven out of his senses by this harangue. “Oh, land of hope! was a fellow that never done nothing to nobody ever talked to like this before? By granny! it’s enough to make a fellow get as mad as anything; so it is! Why, Miss Pet, I haven’t done anything improper – I wouldn’t for any price; upon my word and honor, I wouldn’t. I’ve fell in love with – a – with – a young lady, and I don’t see where’s the harm of it. It’s unkind of you, Miss Pet, to speak so, and I don’t see what I’ve ever done to deserve it. You mean real well, I’m sure, but it makes a fellow feel bad to be talked to in this way all the time,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a stifled whimper.
“Well, there, don’t cry, Orlando,” said Pet, soothingly, “and I won’t say another word. What young lady have you had the misfortune to fall in love with?”
“Miss Pet, excuse me, but I – I’d rather not tell, if it’s all the same,” replied Mr. Toosypegs, blushing deeply.
“Oh, fool! tell me, as a friend, you know. Won’t ever mention it again, so help me! Do I know her?”
“Ye – yes, Miss Pet, slightly.”
“Hem! It isn’t Annie Grove?”
“No, Miss Pet – why, she’s forty years old, if she’s a day,” said Mr. Toosypegs, indignantly.
“Yes, I know – twenty-five, she says; but she’s been that as far back as the oldest inhabitant can remember. Well, then, Jessie Masters?”
“Miss Pet, allow me to say I ain’t in the habit of falling in love with women with wooden legs,” said the young gentleman, with dignity.
“Well, I didn’t know; it’s cheaper, in shoe-leather, especially. Hem-m-m! Perhaps it’s Mrs. Jenkins?”
“Mrs. Jenkins! a widow! No, Miss Pet, it ain’t. I should think you might know I don’t like second-hand women,” said Mr. Toosypegs, as near being indignant as he ever was in his life.
“Well, who the mischief can it be then! It must be Huldah Rice.”
“A little stout thing, with – with a hump, and cross-eyes? Miss Pet, it ain’t!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, with tears of vexation in his eyes.
“Not her, either? then I give up. Who is it, Orlando?”
“Miss Pet, I don’t like to tell – you’ll laugh at me,” said Mr. Toosypegs, blushing deeply.
“Laugh! No, I won’t; honor bright! I’ll look as grim as a death’s-head and cross-bones! Now then, out with it!”
“Miss Pet, it’s – it’s – ”
“Yes – well?”
“It’s – ”
“Well?”
“It’s you,” fairly shouted Mr. Toosypegs, driven to desperation by her perseverance.
“Me! O ye gods and goddesses, without skirts or bodices! Me! Great Jehosaphat! I’ll know what it feels like to be unexpectedly struck by a cannon-ball, after this! Me! Well, I never!”
“Miss Pet, I knew you would laugh; I knew it all along, and I told him so this morning,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a sniffle; “you mean well, I dare say, but it don’t seem kind at all.”
“Laugh!” exclaimed Pet; “come, I like that, and my face as long as an undertaker’s! You may take a microscope and look from this until the week after next, and then you won’t discover the ghost of a smile on my countenance. Laugh, indeed! I’m above such a weakness, I hope,” said Pet, with ineffable contempt.
“Then, Miss Pet, perhaps you will have me,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with sudden hope. “Miss Pet, I can’t begin to tell you the way I love you; you can’t have any idea of it; it goes right through and through me. I think of you all day, and I dream about you all night. I’m in the most dreadful way about you, ever was. Miss Pet, I’d do anything you told me to. I’d go and drown myself if you wanted me to, or shoot myself, or take ratsbane, and rather like it than otherwise, if you’ll only have me, Miss Pet – ”
“Orlando, I’m very sorry; but – I can’t.”
“Miss Pet, you don’t mean it; you can’t mean it, surely. I know I ain’t so good-looking as some,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in a melancholy tone; “but I can get something to take the freckles off, and I expect to fatten out a little by-and-by, so – ”
“Now, don’t go to any such trouble for me,” said Pet, with difficulty keeping from laughing at his mildly-anguished look. “I don’t mind the freckles at all; I rather like them, in fact; they vary the monotony of the complexion, just as oases do in the deserts we read of; and as for being thin – well, I’m rather on the hatchet-pattern myself, you know. But you must quit thinking about me, Orlando, because I’m only a wild little Tomboy, that everybody gets furious about, and I never intend to get married at all – that is, unless – well, never mind.”
“Miss Pet, if you only knew how badly in love I am.”
“Oh, you only think so; you’ll forget me in a week!”
“I’ll never forget you, Miss Pet, never – not even if I was to be taken out of this world altogether, and sent up to New Jersey. It’s awful to think you won’t have me – it really is,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in great mental distress.
“Well, I’m sorry, Orlando, but I can’t help it, you know. Now be a good boy for my sake, and try to forget me – won’t you?” asked Pet, coaxingly.
“I’ll try to, Miss Pet, since you wish it,” said poor Mr. Toosypegs, with tears in his eyes; “but it’s blamed hard. I wish to gracious I had never been born – I just do! I don’t see where is the good of it at all.”
“Oh, now, Orlando, you mustn’t feel bad about it, because it won’t amount to anything,” said Pet, in a consoling tone; “don’t let us talk any more about it. Guess what I heard last night over at Judestown.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, giving his eyes and nose a vigorous wiping with his handkerchief.
“Well, then, that the gang of smugglers who have been for so long a time suspected of having a rendezvous around the coast somewhere, have been seen at last. Two or three of them were observed pulling off in a boat, the other night, and going on board a dark, suspicious-looking schooner, anchored down the bay. They are known to have a hiding-place somewhere around here, but the good folks of Judestown can’t discover it, and consequently are in a state of mind at having such desperadoes near them. I am going to hunt all over the shore far and near myself, this very day, and see if my eyes are not sharper than those of the Judestown officials. Oh, I would love, of all things, to discover their hiding-place; perhaps my smartness wouldn’t astonish the natives slightly.”
“But, good gracious, Miss Pet! if they get hold of you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, his blood running chill with horror at the very idea; “why, it would be awful.”
“If they did,” said Pet, “they would find, as others have done, to their cost, before now, that they had caught a Tartar; a snap-dragon; a pepper-pod; an angel in petticoats! Oh, they’d have their hands full, in every sense of the word. I’m bound to go on my exploring expedition this afternoon, wind and weather permitting, anyway, and see what will be the result. Where are you going, may I ask?”
“To Dismal Hollow, or – no, I’ve got to go to the White Squall, first.”
“Very well; I won’t detain you, then. I’m off to Judestown – good-by; remember me to uncle Harry.”
And giving her jaunty, plumed hat another gallant touch, Firefly dashed off, leaving Mr. Toosypegs gazing dejectedly after her until the last flutter of her dark riding-habit vanished amid the trees; and then he slowly and mournfully turned his solemn-faced nag in the direction of the White Squall, to tell the admiral the unsatisfactory result of his proposal.
CHAPTER XXVII.
GREEK MEETS GREEK
“‘I scorn,’ quoth she, ‘thou coxcomb silly,
Quarter or counsel from a foe.
If thou canst force me to it, do,’”
– Hudibras.
“I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it in thy face,
Than stoop to thee.”
– Shakspeare.
Petronilla rode gayly along to the little bustling, half-village, half-city, Judestown, thinking over her late surprising proposal, and scarcely knowing whether to laugh at or pity poor Mr. Toosypegs. As she reached the town these thoughts were dispelled by the busy scenes around, and Pet found herself fully occupied in nodding to her various friends and acquaintances as she passed.
Pet’s destination was the post-office, a large building which served as a store, hotel, and post, all in one. As she drew rein at the door, the mail-coach drew up, and Pet lingered where she was a moment, in order to avoid the crowd.
The passengers crowded in, and as the coach-door opened, a young gentleman sprung out and assisted a lady, closely veiled, to alight. Neither of them noticed Pet; so they did not observe her quick start, her sudden flush, and the vivid lighting up of her beautiful eyes.
These outward and very unwonted signs of emotion on Pet’s part passed away as quickly as they came, and in one minute more she was as cool, saucy and composed as ever.
“Is there any one here who will drive us to Old Barrens Cottage?” said the young gentleman, glancing at the landlord.
“Yes, sir; in ten minutes, sir; just step in, sir; my boy’s gone off in a gig with a gent, but he’ll be back soon. Walk right in this way, sir,” replied the obsequious landlord, with a profusion of bows to the well-dressed and distinguished-looking stranger before him.
“I would rather not wait,” said the gentleman. “Can you not let me have some other conveyance, and I will drive over myself?”
“Very sorry, sir, but they’re all engaged. Just step in, sir, you and your good lady, sir.”
Pet fancied she heard a low, sweet laugh from under the thick, brown veil, and the gentleman smiled as he followed the bustling host into the well-sanded parlor.
In one moment Pet was off her horse, and consigning him to the care of the hostler, darted in by a side-door and rung a peal that presently brought the hostess, a pleasant-faced, fat, little woman, in a tremendous flutter, into the room.
“Laws! Miss Petronilla, is it you? Why, you haven’t been to see me this long time. How do you do?”
“I’m very well, thank you, Mrs. Gudge; but see here – did you notice that gentleman and lady who have just gone into the parlor?”
“That tall, handsome young man, with all them there mustaches? – yes, I seen him, Miss Pet.”
“Well, do you know who he is?”
“No; though it does kinder seem to me as if I’d seen him somewhere before. The lady, his wife, I take it, kept her veil down, and I couldn’t see her face. No; I don’t know ’em, Miss Pet.”
“Well, that don’t matter; I do. And now, Mrs. Gudge, I want you to help me in a splendid piece of – of – ”
“Mischief, Miss Pet,” said the woman, slyly.
“No, not exactly – just fun. I want you to bring a suit of your son Bob’s clothes up here. I’m going to dress myself in them, and when he comes with the gig let me drive them over. My riding-habit and pony can remain here till I send for them.”
“Now, Miss Pet – ”
“Now, Mrs. Gudge, don’t bother me! Go, like a dear old soul. I’ll give you a kiss if you do.”
“But the judge – ”
“Oh, the judge won’t know anything about it unless you tell him. There, be off! I want to be dressed before Bob comes. If you don’t hurry I’ll lose the most splendid joke ever was. Hurry now! Put Mr. Gudge up to it, so the cat won’t get out of the bag.”
With a deprecating shake of her head and upturning of her eyes, the little hostess bustled out, inwardly wondering what “Miss Pet would do next.”
Pet, in the meantime, with her wicked black eyes scintillating with the prospect of coming fun, was rapidly divesting herself of her hat and riding-habit. And then little Mrs. Gudge made her appearance with her son and heir’s “Sunday-go-to-meetin’s” and stayed to assist the fairy in her frolic, and find out who the handsome owner of the “mustarchers” was. But Pet was as close as a clam, and only laughed at the landlady’s “pumping,” while she dived desperately into Bob’s pants and coat, which – except being narrow where Pet thought they ought to be wide, and wide where they ought to be narrow, fitted her very well. Then she combed her short, dancing, black curls to one side, over her round, boyish forehead, and setting upon them a jaunty Scotch cap, stood there, bright, saucy, and smiling, as handsome and dashing a little fellow as you could see in a long summer-day.
“Well, laws! you do make a pretty boy and no mistake, Miss Pet,” said the woman, admiringly; “them handsome eyes of yours and shaking, shining curls is jest the thing! But your hands – they’re a heap too small and deliky-looking for a boy’s.”
“Oh! well, I’ll rub some mud on them when I get out. They’re not the whitest in the world anyway; and besides, they won’t look very closely at a little cab-boy’s hands.”
“Now, if you want to be like a boy, you must take long steps, and stick your hands in your pockets, and swear. Can you swear, Miss Pet?” said the woman, seriously.
“Well, I never tried,” said Pet, laughing; “and as I don’t know any oaths off by heart, I guess I won’t mind, for fear the effect would be a failure.”
“It’s a pity you don’t,” said Mrs. Gudge, thoughtfully; “all boys allers swears at the horses. You must look sassy – but that comes natural enough to you; and you had better smoke a pipe or chew some tobacco, on the road – which will you do, Miss Pet?”
“Well, really, Mrs. Gudge, I’d rather not do either, if it’s all the same to you,” said Pet; “but you mus’n’t keep calling me ‘Miss Pet,’ you know; my name’s Bob, now, Bob Gudge.”
“So it is. Laws! if it ain’t funny; but I’m afraid they’ll find you out if you don’t do none of those things. Can you whistle, Miss – Bob, I mean?”
For reply, Pet puckered up her rosy mouth, and whistled “Hail Columbia,” in a way that made little Mrs. Gudge’s eyes snap with delight.
“Here comes Bob!” she cried, as a gig came rattling into the yard. “You wait here a minute and I’ll fix things all right.”
Out flew Mrs. Gudge, and called off Bob to some secret corner, and then she showed her head in at the door and called:
“Come, now, Miss – Bob, and drive round to the front door while I tell the lady and gentleman all’s right now.”
Pet, imitating Bob’s shuffling swagger, went out to the yard, sprung up on the front seat, took the reins, and, in masterly style, turned the horses, and drove around to the front door.
Scarcely had she got there and struck up “Hail Columbia” in her shrillest key, than the dark, handsome gentleman with the “mustarchers” came out with the lady, who was still veiled, followed by the host and hostess, on whose faces rested a broad grin. Pet, with her cap pulled over her eyes, to shade them from the hot sun, and also to subdue their dark, bright splendor a little, sat whistling away, looking as cool as a cucumber, if not several degrees cooler.
The young gentleman handed the lady in, and she took her place on the back seat.
“Now, Minnie, I’m going to sit here with the driver and have a chat with him”, said the young man; “these cunning little vagrants know everything.”
The shrill whistle rose an octave higher.
“Very well,” said the young lady, in low, laughing tones; “anything to put an end to that piercing whistle. I suppose he cannot talk to you and whistle together?”
“Can’t I, though?” thought the small urchin, who held the reins. “We’ll see that, Miss Erminie Germaine,” and higher and higher still rose the sharp, shrill notes.
“Come, my lad, start,” cried the gentleman, springing in, “and if it’s not too much trouble, might I request you to stop whistling? It may be, and no doubt is, owing to our bad taste, but we cannot appreciate it as it deserves.”
“Don’t see no harm in whistling; nobody never objects to it,” said Pet, imitating to perfection the gruff, surly tones of Master Bob. “I’m fond of music myself, if you ain’t, and so is the hoss, who would not go a step if I didn’t whistle; so I’ll just keep on if it’s all the same to you.”
And another stave of “Hail Columbia” pierced the air.
“How long does it take you to drive to the Barrens?”
“Well, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter; and then again not so long,” said the driver, touching the horse daintily with his whip.
“Quite enlightened, thank you! Do you know the family at old Barrens cottage?”
“There ain’t no family there; there’s only the old woman what can’t walk or nothin’; and a nigger. Them two don’t make one whole member of society, let alone a family. Was you acquainted with them, square?”
“Slightly so,” said the gentleman, smiling.
“Well, maybe you knew that there cove that went away – young Mr. Ray?”
“I believe I had that honor,” replied the young man, with the smile still on his handsome face.
“Honor! humph! I reckon you’re the only one ever thought it an honor to know him,” said the lad, grimly. “He always was a vagabones, and ended as all vagabones must, at last.”
For one moment the young gentleman glanced at the driver, evidently hesitating whether to pitch him then and there out of the gig or not; but seeing only a little boy with an exceedingly muddy face, he thought better of it, and said:
“Well, this is really pleasant to listen to! And how did this vagabones, as you call him, end?”
“Why, he was sent away from home, when they couldn’t stand him any longer; and the last we heard of him was that he was in State Prison for life.”
A low peal of laughter from the young lady followed this, in which, after a prolonged stare of astonishment, the gentleman was obliged to join.
“Well, for cool, innate impudence, and straight-forward bluntness, I’ll back you against the world, my good youth,” said the young man, while the little driver sat looking as sober as a judge.
“And the young lady who lived there, what became of her?”
“There wasn’t never no young lady,” said the lad; “there was a little gal with yaller hair, but she went off, too; and I expect, ran away with some one-eyed fiddler or other. They was English, and no better couldn’t have been expected,” said the boy, in strong accents of contempt.
Another low laugh from the young lady and a prolonged whistle from the gentleman followed this.
“Well, I am sorry my friends have turned out so badly. How about the others, now; Judge Lawless and his family, for instance; Admiral Havenful, Mr. and Miss Toosypegs, and the rest?”
“They’re all hanging together! Mr. Toosypegs is going to get married and take in sewing for a living; and Miss Priscilla goes round making vinegar.”
“Making what?”
“Vinegar,” said the lad, gravely. “The grocers gets her to look into barrels of water, when they turns into vinegar ’mediately.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said the gentleman, laughing; “but the others – Judge Lawless, Miss Lawless, what of her?”
“Oh, she’s all right. Don’t expect she’ll be Miss Lawless, though, much longer,” said the boy.
“No? why? how? what do you mean?” said the young gentleman, starting so suddenly that the boy looked up, apparently quite terrified by this unexpected outburst.
“See here, square, you’ll skeer the hoss if you keep on like this. If you’re subjick to ’tacks of this kind you ought for to have told me before we started, and not ’larm the hoss,” said the boy, sharply.
“Tell me what you mean by that? Speak!” said the young man, vehemently.
“By what? skeering the hoss?” said the lad.
“No, about Miss Lawless,” was the impetuous rejoinder.
“Oh! Well, I have hearn tell she was goin’ to be married. Likely as not she is too; got lots of beaux.”
The young gentleman’s face flushed for a moment, and then grew set and stern.
“Did you hear who she was to be married to?” said the young lady, leaning over.
“No, marm; nobody never can tell what she’ll do; likely as not she’ll get married to the one nobody expects her to marry. She always was the contrariest young woman always that ever was,” said the boy, casting a quick, bright, searching glance from under his long eyelashes, at the handsome face of the gentleman. And it was a handsome face, the very handsomest the saucy little driver had ever seen; and it might have been its close proximity to its owner that sent such quick thrills to the heart of the quondam boy, and set it beating so unnecessarily fast under the jaunty black coat. The dark, clear complexion; the straight, classic features; the thick, jetty, clustering hair; the high, princely brow; the bold, flashing, falcon, black eyes; the thin, curving nostril, that showed his high blood; the proud, haughty mouth, shaded by a thick, black mustache; the tall, slight, elegant form; the high, kingly movements – these made up the outward attractions of him by whose side Pet sat. Of course, every reader above the artless age of five knows as well as I do who it is, so there is not the slightest necessity for announcing his name as Raymond Germaine.
There was a long silence after this. The young gentleman, with a cold, almost sarcastic look, watched the objects as they passed, and the little boy drove on, whistling as if his life depended on it.
Then the young lady leaned over and began a conversation in a low voice with her companion, to which he replied in the same tone. The lady had thrown back her veil, disclosing a face of such rare loveliness that it seemed a downright shame, not to say sin, to hide it behind that odious brown covering. The driver turned round to catch a better view of her face, and the young lady met the full splendor of those dazzling dark orbs. The boy instantly turned, and began whistling louder than ever.
“What a handsome boy!” said the young girl, in a low tone, yet loud enough for the “boy” in question to hear. “What splendid eyes! I thought there could be but one such pair of eyes in the world, and those – ”
Her companion made a slight gesture that arrested the name she would have uttered; and glancing at the boy, said, rather coldly:
“Yes; he is handsome, if his face was washed.”
“Now, Ray,” said the young lady, laughing “that is altogether too bad. Those radiant eyes are destined to break many a heart yet.”