Stranica 176 [176]
128
CHAPTER THE TENTH.
Wherein the happiness of Oliver and his friends
experiences a sudden check.
Spring flew swiftly by, and summer
came; and if the village had been beau¬
tiful at first, it was now in the full glow
and luxuriance of its richness. The great
trees, which had looked shrunken and
bare in the earlier months, had now burst
into strong life and health, and, stretching
forth their green arms over the thirsty
ground, converted open and naked spots
into choice nooks, where was a deep and
pleasant shade from which to look upon
the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine,
which lay stretched out beyond. The
earth had donned her mantle of brightest
green, and shed her richest perfumes
abroad. It was the prime and vigour of
the year, and all things were glad and
flourishing.
Still the same quiet life went on at the
little cottage, and the same cheerful se¬
ee | prevailed among its inmates. Oli¬
ver had long since grown stout and
healthy; but health or sickness made no
difference in his warm feelings to those
about him, (though they do in the feelings
of a great many people,) and he was still
the same gentle, attached, affectionate
creature, that he had been when pain and
suffering had wasted his strength, and he
was dependent for every slight attention
and comfort on those who tended him.
One beautiful night they had taken a
longer walk than was customary with
them, for the day had been unusually
warm, and there was a brilliant moon,
and a light wind had sprung up, which
was unusually refreshing. Rose had been
in high spirits too, and they had walked
on in merry conversation until they had
far exceeded their ordinary bounds. Mrs.
Maylie was fatigued, and they returned
more slowly home. The young lady,
merely throwing off her simple bonnet,
sat down to the piano as usual; after run¬
ning abstractedly over the keys for a few
minutes, she fell into a low and very
solemn air, and as she played it they
heard her sob as if she were weeping.
“ Rose, my dear?” said the elder lady.
Rose made no reply, but played a little
quicker, as though the sound had roused
her from some painful thoughts.
“ Rose, my love!” cried Mrs. Maylie,
rising hastily, and bending over her.
“What is this? Your face is bathed in
tears. My dear child, what distresses
you?!"
Nothing, aunt,—nothing,” replied the
young lady. “I dont know what it is; I
can’t describe it; but I feel so low to¬
night, and ‘:
“ Not ill, my love?’ interposed Mrs.
Maylie.
“No, no! Oh, not ill!" replied Rcse,
shuddering as though some deadly chill¬
ness were passing over her while she
spoke; “at least, I shall be better pre¬
sently. Close the window, pray."
Oliver hastened to comply with the re¬
guest; and the young lady, making an
effort to recover her cheerfulness, strove
to play some livelier tune. But her fin¬
gers dropped powerless on the keys, and,
covering her face with her hands, she
sank upon a sofa, and gave vent to the
tears which she was now unable to re¬
press.
“ My child!” said the elder lady, fold¬
ing her arms about her, “I never saw you
“T would not alarm you if I could avoid
it,” rejoined Rose; “but indeed I have
tried very hard, and cannot help this. I
fear I am ill, aunt.”
She was, indeed; for, when candles
were brought, they saw that in the very
short time which had elapsed since their
return home, the hue of her countenance
had changed to a marble whiteness. Its
expression had lost nothing of its beauty,
but yet it was changed, and there was an
anxious haggard look about that gentle
face which it had never worn before.
Another minute, and it was suffused with
a crimson flush, and a heavy wildness
came over the soft blue eye; again this
disappeared like the shadow thrown by a
passing cloud, and she was once more
deadly pale.
Oliver, who watched the old lady anx¬
iously, observed that she was alarmed by
these appearances, and so, in truth, was
he; but, seeing that she affected to make
light of them, he endeavoured to do the
same, and they so far succeeded that when
Rose was persuaded by her aunt to retire
for the night, she was in better spirits,
and appeared even in better health, and
assured them that she felt certain she
would wake in the morning quite well.
“T hope, ma’am,” said Oliver, when
Mrs. Maylie returned, “that nothing se¬
rious 18 the matter. Miss Maylie doesn’t
look well to-night, but 4
The old lady motioned him not to speak,
and, sitting herself down in a dark corner
of the room, remained silent for some
time. At length she said, in a trembling
voice,—
“T hope not, Oliver. I have been very