LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 695, 11 September 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MY FIRST BALL,

It was a bitterly cold day, and the grey pony I was riding would not stand still. Both circumstances vexed me. The cold made my nose red ; and it was not dignified, in the midst of delivering my mother’s message about the butter, to find myself suddenly wheeled round to face Lady Fermor instead of the grocer. As for my nose, I don’t think that would have troubled me much if the Hall carriage had not been in town—we always spoke of pretty, sleepy little A , numbering some 1500 inhabitants, as “town”—but it was the first time I had seen the Fermors, and I had reasons of my own for wishing to make a good impression. Perhaps I was too impatient with him, or perhaps Beppe had submitted to as many delays as he could endure, for, finally he put down his head and went off into one of those fits of kicking to which I was well accustomed, and which signified very little when they took place in our paddock behind the house, but, to say the least, did nob look pretty in High street. Of course my hair came down, and a perfect hailstorm of hairpins made itself heard upon the pavement. It was very provoking. Through all my efforts to bring Beppo to his senses, I fancied that I saw Miss Fermor smile. In desperation X gave the pony a stroke with my whip,

which would, I knew, send him tearing down the street and out of sight in no time. Some such sensational exit from the scene would not look amiss ; certainly it would be bettor than standing kicking at a shop door, trying, between the jerks, to gasp out a bargain for the butter, and all within ear-shot of the Fermors! However, just as my rebellious little steed made his forward plunge, a strong hand seized the bridle, and the sudden check threw me in an uncomfortable heap upon his neck. I recovered myself to hear Captain Fermor’s half-laughing apology. ‘ I am afraid the remedy was worse than the disease,’ he said, ‘ Your pony seems very troublesome,’ Beppo was a little animal; so little that it almost seemed as though Captain Fermor could have lifted him off his feet with ease, had he been so minded. As for me, seated upright now, my head was so nearly on a level with that of my new acquaintance that the wind blew a great cloud of my hair into the Captain’s face, and a perverse hairpin lodged itself in his buttonhole. A.t the same moment Simms the grocer, well used to Beppo’s eccentricities, and by no means dismayed at them upon this occasion, reminded me that our business was yet unfinished.

‘The shop price is thirteen pence, Miss Bessie, if we give that, where are our profits?’ cried the mercenary man, anxiously. ‘ Allow me,’ said the Captain, detaching my hairpin from his coat and holding it out towards me, while once more the playful breeze caused my truant locks and his tawny whiskers to mingle in wild confusion; and I certainly heard a laugh proceed from the carriage, the cushions of which were brilliant with a heap of purple and scarlet stuffs exhibited by an obsequious shopman. I did not resume my property. I left him standing there with the hairpin in his hand, and, regardless of an expostulating cry from Simms, * Say a shilling the pound, miss !’ I gathered up my reins, gave Beppo his head, and galloped down the street at full speed, never slackening my pace until A— was far behind, and our own house visible from the brow of the last bill on the road borne.

I pulled up then. Over the park palings there was a glimpse to be had of the lake, hard frozen—only the day before I had seen people skating there —and of the Hall itself, well placed upon the high ground beyond. My own home adjoined the park, to which hitherto I had always had free access ; but the Fermors were come back, and doubtless things would be different now. Last ■winter I had had all the skating to myself, and secretly I was determined to have my share of it this winter also. My head had long been full of schemes for making Miss Fermor’s acquaintance —a nice beginning this day’s misfortunes were ! And then, the stupidity of Simms ! They would take me for a farmer’s daughter selling the produce of my mother’s dairy. For that matter, the Oliphants were an older family than the Fermors themselves ; and if we were poor, which it is true had been the case since my father’s death —why, it was a great deal better ton nowadays to be poor than rich. And yet I sighed as I cast a last lingering look at the Hall, whose windows shone in the afternoon sun; for to be ‘ rich ’ meant a big house, much skating, unlimited dinner parties and balls, whereat of course there would be many young men with tawny whiskers, all of whom would dance divinely. I was contented enough with things as they were, happy enough, Heaven knows; but then, I was seventeen, and had a feeling that the book was not ended, that the next chapter might be even more interesting than the last. I longed to turn the page ; I fancied that life must have something in store for me, different —and of course better—than anything I had yet known. The next day was Sunday. Miss Former drove her mother to church in a little phaeton drawn by a pair of long-tailed ponies ; Sir Anthony and the Captain came in together later, only just in time. After the service there was a moment’s delay as we were going out: we were all in the porch together, my mother and I detained there during a discussion between Lady Fermor and her daughter as to who should drive the ponies home. It was Captain Fermor who first noticed us, and called the ladies’ attention to the fact that they were obstructing the public way. ‘ Mrs Oliphant cannot pass,’ lie said, and Lady Fermor turned instantly to apologise. Finally Sir Anthony took the reins, and Miss Fermor and her brother walked with us down the churchyard. I heard my mother say something about intending to leave her card at the Hall, and the young lady answer that such near neighbours should waive ceremony; she was dull, she said, and might not Miss Oliphant come back with her to the Hall then and there and stay to luncheon ? Her brother had made acquaintance with her already. ‘ Miss Oliphant’ walked behind with flaming cheeks, and thought of hairpins and butter, and such like recollections, but rejoiced withal that her end was attained. Tire invitation to luncheon was accepted for me. At our own gate my mother parted from us, and I found myself actually walking through the park side by side with Miss Fermor. As for the Captain, he strode on in front, now and then calling over his shoulder, ‘ Come on Puck ! ’ by which singular name his sister was known in her own family. ‘ Puck’ was older than myself. A tall, handsome girl, whose deep mourning showed her dazzling complexion and fair hair to much advantage. Her manner was the least bit in the world patronising, and the tone of her conversation a little flippant, which being something wholly new in my experience, I set down as brilliancy. ‘We were glad to see you alive after your sudden disappearance yesterday,’ she said. ‘ I assure you Teddy stood gazing after you in a state of consternation. By the way what a mercy you wear your own hair ! Pew girls could afford to sit your pony, I should think.’

‘Beppo is generally very good,’ said I, shyly glancing as I spoke at the exuberant tresses of my companion, and wondering what proportion of them was her own. “ I read your thoughts cried Miss Puck, laughing, ‘but false hair is no deception nowadays ; everyone wears it. Teddy ! Miss Oliphant is really refreshing—she is so unsophisticated as to be shocked at my chignon.’ ‘ Come on, Puck.’ 1 Is there any society here 1 ’ questioned his sister. * Anything young—not as young as yourself ; I don’t expect that; I should imagine it hard to find your equal in youthfulness—but is there anything at all under sixty? Not that it matters much,’ she added, with a sigh, ‘ for while we wear this horible black we must keep so quiet, and as

soon as possible of course we shall fill the house and be independent of the neighbourhood. Mourning is such a nuisance, don’t you think so, Miss Bessie ?—you see we have not forgotten the name ; Simms called you Miss Bessie.’ I answered, rather gravely, that everyone called me Miss Bessie, because my aunt was Miss Oliphant, and perhaps because I had lived here all my life and everyone knew me so well; as for the mourning, I thought it might be a nuisance unless—unless people cared, and then of course they would not want society. ‘ But I do want society, and I don’t “ care” about my uncle’s death. Though he was papa’s brother, we hardly ever saw him; he chose to spend his life poking amongst poor people in the east —I don’t mean Asia, my dear child, only the east of London. For my part I think it is hypocrisy to pretend to regret people yon never knew, just because they are relations; and he quite dropped out of our set. When he caught some horrible fever down there in the back lanes, and died of it, how could I be sorry to lose him ?’

‘ But that was noble ! You ought to be proud of such a life, and such—•’ I had stood still in my amazement, but grew shy again and left my sentence unfinished. Mias Fermor finished it for me.

‘And such a death, you mean. Oh, of course it was very noble, I am not denying that. I only say that personally I could not care about him. Teddy, Miss Oliphant thinks, me a heathen, because I am candid enough to say my black is a bore.’ ‘Come on, Puck.’

On the whole I began to think the Captain rather rude, but when we reached the lake he grew sociable. I said how much I had enjoyed the skating here last winter, and the brother and sister instantly suggested coming down after luncheon to indulge in amusement.

‘ It is Sunday,’ said I, half frightened to allude to the fact, but honestly believing that it had for the moment escaped their memories.

‘We should scandalise the natives, you think,’ remarked the Captain; and the matter was compromised by a little sliding, over which we all grew friends. The sound of the luncheon bell surprised us, and we hurried to the house, and into the diningroom at once.

Sir Anthony made me a stiff little bow, helped me to roast beef, and then forgot me; her ladyship was very civil and gracious; but it struck me that her son stared at me more than the usages of good society warranted. As the meal came to an end. Captain Fermor accounted for this breach of manners.

‘Was I wrong about the likeness. Puck ?’ he asked, leaning across the table to speak to his sister. ‘ I beg your pardon for looking at you so much, Miss Oliphant, but we were so struck yesterday with your extraordinary likeness to that old picture hanging behind you, and I have been comparing the two faces.’

I turned to look at it. Now, no one had ever told me that I was pretty ; hut if I resembled that portrait I must be more than pretty, I thought, for it was beautiful. I experienced a delicious sensation of gratified vanity, but all I said was ; ‘ What an old-fashioned dress !’

‘ Exceedingly picturesque,’ remarked Lady Fermor; * and a good painting. It is a Sir Joshua.’

‘ Sir Peter Lely,’ said the baronet, quickly. ‘Ah, well, they are all one. What are you going to do this afternoon, Puck ?’ * Miss Oliphant doesn’t think it right to skate on Sunday, and it is too cold for a walk.’

‘ Suppose we unearth the treasures in th# gallery,’said the Captain ; ‘it might amuse Miss Bessie. Do you like old china, and pictures, and—and things ?’ he added, turning to me. I stared at them, for of course I was going to church.

‘ Church ?’ exclaimed Captain Fermor, as if he had only just, for the first time in his life, heard of such a thing, and didn’t quite know what it was.

‘ Again !’ exclaimed his sister. ‘ Very right,’ said Lady Former, as she settled herself to her novel. Sir Anthony had disappeared. Miss Fermor kissed me after I had tied my bonnet and had said cood-bye. ‘ You are a pretty little thing, Bessie,’ she said, ‘ and as good as you are pretty. Isn’t she, Teddy V Apparently Teddy agreed with her, for he insisted upon escorting me through the park.

Tom had come home that winter. The vicarage, where he lived in old days, was separated from us only by a few yards of road and by the churchyard, and if my childhood had not been a lonely one it was because Tom shared it. He did not live at the vicarage now. Six years before the old rector had died, and his son had gone to Canada. One dreary, never-to-be-forgotten morning, when the [November sky was dark with clouds, I, a sorrowful child, had clasped my arms round his neck and wetted his cheek with my tears. Since then we had not even heard of him, until, also in November, in this year whose events I am recording, coming home one rainy afternoon, I saw—astounding sight —a hat in our little entrance hall ; and the conviction flashed upon me that ‘Tom had come back.’ I found him chatting with my mother, and—well, this time I omitted the embrace, glad as I was to see him—altered, older, more manly-looking, of course; altogether a different Tom from any I had ever pictured to myself, and yet so strangely the same Tom, and my dear old friend. f To be continued ."l