A Daughter of the Forest, Evelyn Raymond [ap literature book list .txt] 📗

the way I should look if I ever went into the world.”

“Eh? What? Lovely? You? Hmm. Lovely is that lovely does. Vanity is a disgrace to any woman. Has not the master said that often and often?”

Margot flushed. She was not conscious of vanity, yet she did not question Angelique’s opinion. But she rallied.

“I don’t think I should feel at all vain if I put on any of these things. That is, if I could even get them on. I should all the time be thinking how uncomfortable I was. Well, that’s settled. I wear my own clothes, and not even my dear mother’s. Hers I will always keep for her sake; but to her great daughter they are useless. And I’ll go bareheaded just as here. Why not? I certainly don’t need a bonnet, with all this hair.”

Now Margot’s hair was Angelique’s especial pride. Indeed, it was a wonderful glory upon that shapely young head; but again this was not to be admitted.

“Hair! What’s hair? Not but you’ve enough of it for three women, for that matter. But it will not do to go that way. It must be braided and pinned fast. Here is a bonnet, not so gay as mine, and I would trust you with that—only——”

“I wouldn’t wear it, dear Angelique. It’s lovely and kind for you to even think of offering. You must keep that for Pierre’s wife, and——”

“I should like to see her with it on! Huh! Indeed! Pouf!”

“There are hats enough of my own mother’s, and to wear one may be another piece of your ‘good luck.’ I shall wear this one. It is all blue like my frocks, and the little brown ribbon is the color of my shoes. Adrian would say that was ‘artistic,’ if he were here. Oh! Angelique! When I go to that far city, do you suppose I shall see Adrian? Do you?”

“Do you go there to break your uncle’s heart again? ’Tis not Adrian you will see, ever again, I hope. No. Indeed, no. See. This shawl. It goes so;” and Angelique adjusted the soft, rich fabric around her own shoulders, put a hat jauntily upon her head, and surveyed the effect with undisguised admiration, as reflected in the little mirror in the lid of the big trunk.

“Angelique! Angelique, take care! ‘Vanity is a disgrace to any woman!’ What if that misguided Pierre should see you now? What would he think of his——”

Hark! What was that? How dared old Joseph tramp through the house at such a pace, with such a noise? and the master still so weak. Why——

The indignant house-mistress disappeared with indignation blazing in her eyes.

Margot, also, stood still in the midst of her finery, listening and almost as angry as the other; till there came back to her another sound so familiar and reassuring that her fears were promptly banished, while one more anxiety was lifted from her heart.

CHAPTER XX COMING AND GOING

“Pierre! and Angelique is boxing his ears! My, what a whack, that I can hear it way in here! I must to the rescue, but his coming makes right for me to go. Angelique, Angelique, don’t! Heigho, Pierre! I’m glad you’re back!”

But if he heard this welcome he did not heed it, and Margot stood amazed at the ridiculous scene upon which she had entered.

There was Angelique, still arrayed in her own flower-bedecked bonnet and her mistress’ India shawl, being whirled about the big kitchen in a crazy sort of waltz which seemed to suit the son’s excited mood. Her bonnet sat rakishly on one side and the rich shawl dragged over the floor, which, fortunately, was too clean to harm it; but amidst her enforced exercises, the mother continued to aim those resounding blows at her son’s great ears. Sometimes they hit the mark, but at others fell harmlessly upon his broad shoulders. In any case, they seemed not to disturb him but rather to add to the homelikeness of his return.

At length, however, he released his irate parent and held out his hand to Margot.

“Done the old lady heap of good. How’s things? How’s the menagerie? and the master?”

“Hey? Where’s the manners I’ve always taught you? Askin’ for the master last when ’tis he is always first. Yes. Yes, indeed. But, Pierre, ’twas nigh no master at all you came home to. He’s been at death’s door for weeks. Even yet——”

Then Angelique turned and saw Margot, whose presence she had not before observed. But she rallied instantly, turning her sentence into a brisk command:

“Even yet, the churnin’ not done and it goin’ on to measure nine o’clock. Get to the dasher, lad, and tie this big apron round your neck. Then change that dirty shirt. That a child of mine should wear such filthy things. Pouf! you were always the torment; that is so.”

“Just the same, Angelique, dear, your eyes are shining like stars, and you are happier than you have been a single minute since that bad boy of yours paddled away in the night. If he’s to churn I’m to sit beside him and hear all his long story first. Come on, Pierre! Oh! how good it is to have you back!”

It was, also, most delightful to the mother, even though her happiness expressed itself in a peculiar way, by grumbling and scolding as she had not done once since real trouble fell upon that home, with the illness of its master.

The churn stood outside the kitchen door, for Angelique would allow no chance of spilled cream on her scoured boards; so Margot settled herself on the door-step and listened while the wanderer gave her a long and detailed account of his journey. Meanwhile, and at every few minutes, his mother would step to his side, take the dasher from his hand and force a bit of food within it. He devoured this greedily, though he made no comment, and resumed his churning as soon as the tid-bit was consumed. Through all, Angelique’s face was beaming and her lips fretting, till Margot laughed aloud.

“Oh! Angelique Ricord! Of all the odd people you are the oddest!”

“So? Well, then. How many odd people have you seen, my child that you should be so fine a judge? So that evil-come departed to his own, he did? May his shadow never darken this door again! ’Twas all along of him the trouble came.”

“No, Angelique, you forget. It must have been the broken glass! How could it possibly have been anything else? Never mind, sweetheart; when I come home from my long journey I will bring you a new one, big and clear, and that has the power to make even plain folks look lovely. If my uncle will let me. Dear, but I do wish you had a bit, this minute, to see how silly you look with that big bonnet on!”

Angelique’s hand flew to her head in comic dismay. She had carefully removed and refolded the beautiful shawl, but had quite forgotten her other adornment, which she now tore off in a haste that threatened damage to the precious possession.

“Pierre, bid her be careful. That is your wife’s bonnet!”

Even the housekeeper had to smile at this and listen patiently while Margot made much of the incident. Indeed, she would have willingly been laughed at indefinitely, if thus she could herself hear these young voices gay with the old-time unconcern.

“And Adrian was good to the poor, wild things. Well, I have hopes of Adrian. He didn’t have the right sort of rearing to know how the forest people feel, but he learned fast. I’m thankful, thankful, Pierre Ricord, that you had to lose those fine antlers. If you’d sold them and made a lot of money by it, you would have forgotten that the moose could suffer and have killed many more. As it is, better one should die than many. And Pierre, I’m going away myself. Now that you’ve come home, I’m going at once. Old Joseph and I. Clear to that far away New York where Adrian has gone, and to many other places, too.”

Pierre dropped the dasher with such force that the “half-brought” butter, which Angelique was opening the churn to “scrape down together,” splashed out over the step, Margot’s lap, and the ground.

Angelique was too indignant to speak, but Margot cried:

“Oh! Pierre! How careless and wasteful. We’ve none too much butter, anyway.”

The lad still stared, open-mouthed. After a minute he asked:

“What’s that you said? About that New York?”

“I’m going to New York. I’m going in my uncle’s place, to attend to my uncle’s business. Old Joe is to go with me to take care of me—or I of him—and you are to stay here with the master and your mother. You may bring King Madoc over if you wish; and, by the way, how did you get here, if you have lost your own canoe?”

“Helped myself to one of Joe’s. Helped myself to a breakfast, too. Joe’s stocked up for winter, already. But, I say, Margot. He’s no use in a big city. Better take me. I was goin’ anyway, only after that—well, that grave, I made up my mind I’d just step back here a spell and take a fresh start. I’m ready, any minute, and Joe hates it. Hey?”

“I wouldn’t trust myself with you a dozen miles. You’re too foolish and fickle. Joe is steady and faithful. It’s settled. I think, Angelique, that we can start to-morrow. Don’t you?”

Angelique sighed. All her happiness was once more overclouded. Why couldn’t well enough be let alone? However, she answered nothing. She had sometimes ventured to grumble even at the master but she had never questioned his decisions. If it was by his will that her inexperienced darling was to face the dangers of an unknown world, with nobody but a glum old Indian to serve her, of course, there was nothing for it but submission.

At daybreak the next morning, Margot stood beside her uncle’s bed, clasping his thin hands in parting. His eyes were sad and anxious, but hers were bright and full of confidence. He had given his last advice; she had ample money for all possible needs, with directions upon whom to call for more, should anything arise for which they had not prepared, and she had, also, her route marked out on paper, with innumerable suggestions about this or that stop; and now, there was nothing more to do or say but add his blessing and farewell.