The Old Stone House Part 11

"A hypocrite is a person who pretends to be very good, and I am sure you never pretended to be good at all."

Hugh laughed; "That is true," he said "but I hate all underhand dealings."

"But you won't tell, Hugh? Please don't."

"_Et tu Brute_?"

"And don't quote Latin either."

"I only meant that you should help my good intentions instead of thwarting them," said Hugh.

"I am not good myself, Hugh, and never was."

"Oh, yes, you are, Brownie."

"No, I am not. I have been expelled twice."

"I believe it is your nature to be naughty, Bessie."

"I don't know about that, Hugh; but, at any rate, I ought to have some allowances made because I am so homely. It is easy to be good if one happens to be good-looking too. Everybody loves beautiful children, everybody admires beautiful girls; people are predisposed to like them, and make the best of everything they do. Beauty is of little consequence to a boy, but it makes or mars many a girl. I presume, now, if my nose had been Grecian, and my complexion lily fair, I should have been far more amiable."

Hugh laughed merrily at this tirade. "But, Brownie," he said, "_I_ have always thought you pretty."

A shade of color rose in Bessie's dark cheek "Thank you, cousin," she said quickly, "you are kind to say so. But your real taste is for a very different style; a dove-eyed blonde, fair as a lily, and gentle as Griselda."

"Like Edith Chase, I suppose," said Hugh, with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Well, a man might do worse. I venture to say the fair Edith never took a horseback-ride after dark in her life."

"Certainly not; is she not a pattern?" said Bessie sharply. "And, by the way, Hugh, of course you will give me my ride to-night."

"Oh, Bessie, Bessie, you are incorrigible! Well, if I must, I must!

The musicale is to-night, you know."

"I had forgotten it; but we can go afterwards."

"That is, if you will mend my gloves."

"Do get a new pair, Hugh."

"No; I have only ten dollars left; I shall not have any more until August, and my heart is set upon a little picture at Gurner's. You have no idea how much I want it; I stop to look at it every time I pa.s.s the window, and the liking has, grown into a positive longing.

I really must have it."

"What is the subject?"

"It is, I suppose, an allegorical design, but what attracted me was the beauty of the coloring and its fidelity to nature. It represents a youth standing in a little shaded valley, looking forward and upward through a vista which gradually rises into a bold mountain peak. The atmosphere is all morning, early morning, with purple hues on the hill-side, mists rising from the river, and a vague remoteness even in the nearest forest; deep shadows lie over the valley, but the rising sun s.h.i.+nes on the mountain-peak, lighting it up with a golden radiance, while behind it, there seemed to spread away into distance the atmosphere of another country, a beautiful unseen Paradise.

Towards this mountain-peak the youth is looking with ardent eyes; one feels sure that his hopes are there, and that sooner or later he will reach the golden country beyond."

"I remember the picture. Is there not a crown s.h.i.+ning in the sunlight over the mountain-top, and the outline of a great cross in the dark shadow over the steep path which leads up to the summit?"

"I believe so; but it was the figure of the youth that attracted me.

His face expressed aspiration, that bright confidence in the future which Aunt Faith and I have been discussing this morning."

"So you were in her room all that time, were you?"

"Yes; and that reminds me that I must do a little reading. I am growing shamefully lazy. Good-bye, Queen Bessie. Be sure and make my picture as handsome as you can."

"I shall do my best;"--"but I cannot hope to make it as handsome as the original," she added, after the door closed.

Twilight came and the two cousins were riding in a country lane several miles from the old stone house; they had left the turnpike where they usually rode, and, instead of going at headlong speed, the horses were walking slowly over the gra.s.sy path as if the summer evening had influenced their riders with its peaceful quiet.

"I have never been here before," said Bessie; "where does that path lead?"

"To Rocky brook where we used to go a fis.h.i.+ng."

"Let us go that way, please. I have not been to Rocky brook for years and years." So the horses were turned, and, after a pleasant ride through the woods, they reached the edge of the ravine; the path, an Indian trail, came to an end, and down below they could hear the rus.h.i.+ng sound of the water.

"Oh I must get down, Hugh!" said Bessie eagerly; "I want to go down to the brook."

"It will be hard climbing in that long skirt, Bessie. I will bring you out some other time."

"No, Hugh; I want to go now, this very minute."

"I suppose you must have your way, then," said her cousin, as he lifted her to the ground; "wait until I fasten the horses so that I can help you."

But Bessie had already disappeared, swinging herself from rock to rock by aid of the bushes, as actively as a squirrel; she had reached the bottom of the ravine as Hugh appeared at the top. "Don't go too near the bridge," he shouted; "wait till I come down."

Bessie looked down the ravine, and seeing the plank which served for a bridge high in the air over the foaming water, she was seized with a sudden desire to cross it; Hugh's warning, as usual, only stimulated this desire. If there was any danger, she wanted to be in it immediately. So she clambered over the rocks towards the forbidden locality with a pleasant excitement, not really believing in the danger, but lured on by the spirit of adventure strong within her from childhood.

"Don't go near the bridge!" shouted Hugh again, by this time half way down the bank.

"Hugh is too despotic," thought his cousin, as she climbed up on the wet stones. "I shall certainly do as I please. If he wants implicit obedience, he must go to Edith Chase." In another instant she was on the plank, and balancing herself, walked forward over the torrent, holding her long skirt over her arm; her head was steady, she did not know what fear was; many a time she had crossed deeper chasms in safety, and she laughed to herself as she heard Hugh cras.h.i.+ng through the bushes down the bank behind her. "He will like me all the better for my courage," she thought, somewhat surprised at his silence, for she had expected to hear further remonstrance. Suddenly, when she had reached the middle of the bridge, the plank cracked, gave way entirely, and in an instant she was in the foaming torrent below. She sank, and for one moment, one dreadful moment, she was under water, suffocating and terror-stricken, while all the events of her life seemed to rush before her like an instantaneous panorama. Then she felt the air again, and opening her eyes, found herself in Hugh's arms, as he strode out of the water and laid her down on the bank.

"Oh, Hugh!" she gasped, "it was dreadful!"

"Are you hurt, dear? Did your head strike the rocks?" asked her cousin anxiously.

"No, I think not; but I feel rather dizzy," said Bessie, closing her eyes.

"Can you stay here for a moment alone, while I run back to the farm-house? Fortunately the weather is so warm there is not much danger of your taking cold."

"Oh, yes," said Bessie, smiling, as her cousin chafed her hands with anxiety that belied his words. He sprang up the bank, and after some delay reappeared carrying shawls and wrappings. "Do you feel better?

Are you faint?" he asked, as he enveloped her in the shawls.

"I feel quite well now," said Bessie, trying to rise.

"Stop; I am going to carry you," said Hugh.

"You shall do nothing of the kind, Hugh. I am able to walk, and the bank is steep."

"I shall take you round by the path, so don't make any objection, for it will be useless. The farmer will have his carriage waiting for us, and we shall drive home as rapidly as possible."