FullReads

Paul obeyed, and amused her with the chat she liked till they reached a hazel copse; here he drew rein, and, leaping down, gathered a handful of ripe nuts for her.

“How nice. Let us rest a minute here, and while I eat a few, please pull some of those flowers for Mamma. She likes a wild nosegay better than any I can bring her from the garden.”

Lillian ate her nuts till Paul came to her with a hatful of late flowers and, standing by her, held the impromptu basket while she made up a bouquet to suit her taste.

“You shall have a posy, too; I like you to wear one in your buttonhole as the ladies’ grooms do in the Park,” said the child, settling a scarlet poppy in the blue coat.

“Thanks, Miss Lillian, I’ll wear your colors with all my heart, especially today, for it is my birthday.” And Paul looked up at the blooming little face with unusual softness in his keen blue eyes.

“Is it? Why, then, you’re seventeen; almost a man, aren’t you?”

“Yes, thank heaven,” muttered the boy, half to himself.

“I wish I was as old. I shan’t be in my teens till autumn. I must give you something, Paul, because I like you very much, and you are always doing kind things for me. What shall it be?” And the child held out her hand with a cordial look and gesture that touched the boy.

With one of the foreign fashions which sometimes appeared when he forgot himself, he kissed the small hand, saying impulsively, “My dear little mistress, I want nothing but your goodwill–and your forgiveness,” he added, under his breath.

“You have that already, Paul, and I shall find something to add to it. But what is that?” And she laid hold of a little locket which had slipped into sight as Paul bent forward in his salute.

He thrust it back, coloring so deeply that the child observed it, and exclaimed, with a mischievous laugh, “It is your sweetheart, Paul. I heard Bessy, my maid, tell Hester she was sure you had one because you took no notice of them. Let me see it. Is she pretty?”

“Very pretty,” answered the boy, without showing the picture.

“Do you like her very much?” questioned Lillian, getting interested in the little romance.

“Very much,” and Paul’s black eyelashes fell.

“Would you die for her, as they say in the old songs?” asked the girl, melodramatically.

“Yes, Miss Lillian, or live for her, which is harder.”

“Dear me, how very nice it must be to have anyone care for one so much,” said the child innocently. “I wonder if anybody ever will for me?”

“Love comes to all soon or late,
And maketh gay or sad;
For every bird will find its mate,
And every lass a lad,”

sang Paul, quoting one of Hester’s songs, and looking relieved that Lillian’s thoughts had strayed from him. But he was mistaken.

“Shall you marry this sweetheart of yours someday?” asked Lillian, turning to him with a curious yet wistful look.

“Perhaps.”

“You look as if there was no ‘perhaps’ about it,” said the child, quick to read the kindling of the eye and the change in the voice that accompanied the boy’s reply.

“She is very young and I must wait, and while I wait many things may happen to part us.”

“Is she a lady?”

“Yes, a wellborn, lovely little lady, and I’ll marry her if I live.” Paul spoke with a look of decision, and a proud lift of the head that contrasted curiously with the badge of servitude he wore.

Lillian felt this, and asked, with a sudden shyness coming over her, “But you are a gentleman, and so no one will mind even if you are not rich.”

“How do you know what I am?” he asked quickly.

“I heard Hester tell the housekeeper that you were not what you seemed, and one day she hoped you’d get your right place again. I asked Mamma about it, and she said she would not let me be with you so much if you were not a fit companion for me. I was not to speak of it, but she means to be your friend and help you by-and-by.”