“Thou didst refuse the daily round
Of useful, patient love,
And longedst for some great emprise
Thy spirit high to prove.”—C.
M. N.
“Che mi sedea con l’antica Rachele.”—Dante.
“It is very kind in the dear mother.”
“But—what, Rachel? Don’t
you like it! She so enjoyed choosing it for
you.”
“Oh yes, it is a perfect thing in its way.
Don’t say a word to her; but if you are consulted
for my next birthday present, Grace, couldn’t
you suggest that one does cease to be a girl.”
“Only try it on, Rachel dear, she will be pleased
to see you in it.”
“Oh yes, I will bedizen myself to oblige her.
I do assure you I am not ungrateful. It is
beautiful in itself, and shows how well nature can
be imitated; but it is meant for a mere girl, and this
is the very day I had fixed for hauling down the flag
of youth.”
“Oh, Rachel.”
“Ah, ha! If Rachel be an old maid, what
is Grace? Come, my dear, resign yourself!
There is nothing more unbecoming than want of perception
of the close of young-ladyhood.”
“Of course I know we are not quite young girls
now,” said Grace, half perplexed, half annoyed.
“Exactly, from this moment we are established
as the maiden sisters of Avonmouth, husband and wife
to one another, as maiden pairs always are.”
“Then thus let me crown, our bridal,”
quoth Grace, placing on her sister’s head the
wreath of white roses.
“Treacherous child!” cried Rachel, putting
up her hands and tossing her head, but her sister
held her still.
“You know brides always take liberties.
Please, dear, let it stay till the mother has been
in, and pray don’t talk, before her of being
so very old.”
“No, I’ll not be a shock to her.
We will silently assume our immunities, and she will
acquiesce if they come upon her gradually.”
Grace looked somewhat alarmed, being perhaps in some
dread of immunities, and aware that Rachel’s
silence would in any one else have been talkativeness.
“Ah, mother dear, good morning,” as a
pleasant placid-looking lady entered, dressed in black,
with an air of feeble health, but of comely middle
age.
Birthday greetings, congratulations, and thanks followed,
and the mother looked critically at the position of
the wreath, and Rachel for the first time turned to
the glass and met a set of features of an irregular,
characteristic cast, brow low and broad, nose retrousse,
with large, singularly sensitive nostrils quivering
like those of a high-bred horse at any emotion, full
pouting lips, round cheeks glowing with the freshest
red, eyes widely opened, dark deep grey and decidedly
prominent, though curtained with thick black lashes.
The glossy chestnut hair partook of the redundance
and vigour of the whole being, and the roses hung
on it gracefully though not in congruity with the
thick winter dress of blue and black tartan, still
looped up over the dark petticoat and hose, and stout
high-heeled boots, that like the grey cloak and felt
hat bore witness to the early walk. Grace’s
countenance and figure were in the same style, though
without so much of mark or animation; and her dress
was of like description, but less severely plain.
