“It is a perfect shame,” said Mrs. Marker, while making up her mind what to begin with, “that, in such a Paradise, there should be no lady, to give you the knowledge of good and evil. I brought a silver knife with me, in case of being tempted. Not that I mean to taste anything of course, unless my opinion should be absolutely required. My constitution is not strong, Mr. Kit; and I am compelled to be very careful.”
I knew what was meant by that, having heard it often. “You shall have nothing, madam, but the very best,” I answered; “for we never throw away an opportunity like this. What shall we offer first for your judgment?”
“Kitty, what do you say?” She turned as if in doubt. “You know, my dear, how careful we must be. This young lady, Mr. Kit, allows me to call her ‘Kitty,’ in our private moments. Kit and Kitty—what a very strange coincidence!”
I could not help looking at the beautiful Miss Fairthorn; and to my eyes she became more beautiful than ever. For a deep blush spread upon her lovely cheeks, and she turned away, and said, “I leave it quite to you.”
If Mrs. Marker had been planning all the morning how to get the best of the tasting to herself, and to render her judgment supreme, she could hardly have hit upon a better device than this. For her young companion became so nervous and so much confused, and I myself so diffident and deeply occupied, that our only object was to fill the lady housekeeper’s mouth, and keep it running over with nothing worse than fruit. Now and then I ventured to steal a glance at the one with whom my heart was filled, as if to ask whether she would ever forgive me for my sad name of Kit. But her eyes were afraid to encounter mine; or if by any chance they did so, the light that was in them wavered like a timid gleam pursued by cloud. To relieve this trouble, I began to chatter vague nonsense to the other visitor, who was falling to in earnest.
“Everything is out of time this year, and nothing up to character. There has been no sunshine on this wall, until you ladies shone upon it; and what amazes me most is to find that anything has any colour at all. Here is a Grosse Mignonne now, a week ago as green as a leek, and covered now with downy crimson, except just where a leaf has made a pale curve across it, like the pressure of a finger on your cheek. Taste it, Mrs. Marker; you are not getting on at all.”
“Let me see, that makes seven, I think. I shall have lost my taste before we get among the gages. Thank you, I am sure. Oh, how lovely, and delicious! Luscious perhaps is the better expression. There goes ever so much more juice on my dress. I ought to have brought a bib, Mr. Kit; and I will, if I ever come again. But would not you say it was just the least thought woolly?” She had never heard of such a thing before, but I had taught her, and she was growing critical. “Kitty dear, you are tasting nothing. Don’t you consider that just an atom woolly?”
“Very likely it is. I don’t know enough to say. But I never remember tasting wool, with so fine a flavour in it.”
Perhaps I was not in a proper mood to judge; but verily this appeared to me to show an inborn aptitude for taking the management of the fruit, and the government of the grower. To exaggerate is altogether out of my nature, and I find it a great mistake to be ecstatic; but in spite of all that, I would have given every sixpence allowed me by my Uncle Corny—who was always afraid of allowing me too much—if only I could have conveyed to this exquisite judge my opinion of her sentence. But that blessed discovery of Mrs. Marker’s about the everlasting fitness of our names—upon which I had been dwelling in my heart, long before her stupid slowness blurted it—this, I say, had acted in a very awkward manner upon a mind infinitely higher than hers; and yet I hoped humbly that it might suggest something, which might be for the best, if let alone.
Things being so, it was not at all amiss that a loud voice reached us from the clipped yew-hedge, which was set across to break the north winds here—“Kit, where the deuce are you gone mooning? I thought you would have come up with the ladies, long ago.”
“Here we are, looking from a distance at your peaches. Oh, Mr. Orchardson, how lovely they do seem!” Mrs. Marker lost her dignity by giving me a wink, believing as she did—and many others thought the same—that I was next to nobody in these gardens, and my Uncle a tiger over every fruit he grew.
“We have had as many peaches as we can eat, sir,” I said, without any wish to contradict her, but simply to show the position I held.
“Ladies will excuse my present plight;” he had no coat on, and his sleeves were tucked up, showing a pair of thick brown arms. “My peaches are very poor this year, and many have split their stones, and rot instead of ripening. We have not had such a season since 1852. I hope you will not judge us by the wretched things you see. But come on a little further, and try something else. All fruit is water, such a year as we have had. But possibly I may find a plum or two worth eating.”
“Allow me the pleasure, sir,” said Mrs. Marker, who always insisted on proper forms, “of introducing you to Miss Fairthorn, the only daughter of Captain, or as he now is considered, Professor Fairthorn—a gentleman of the highest scientific tendencies.”
“To be sure,” said Uncle Corny, as he took his hat off, and smiled with surprise at her beauty; “I knew Captain Fairthorn, years ago, and a very noble man he is. I have very good cause to remember him—but I will not trouble you with that now. Mrs. Marker, if you would just turn this corner—take care of your most becoming bonnet, young lady”—this pleased the good housekeeper more than twenty plums—“our trees are not as sensitive as we are.”
His urbanity amazed me, for I never could have thought a good man could be so inconsistent; and I said to myself that after all there is something irresistible in women. So I ventured to sidle up to Miss Fairthorn, as he led the way with his convoy, and asked her what she thought of him.
“Oh, I think he is so nice,” she replied smiling at me, as if she was pleased with my question; “so upright, and manly, and such a fine countenance. No wonder, I’m sure, that his fruit is good.”
“Did you notice how much he was surprised at you, at your very pretty dress, and exceedingly sweet smile, and most ladylike appearance, and silvery voice, and lovely—lovely way of holding your parasol?”
“How can you talk such nonsense, Mr. Orchardson? And your Uncle appears such a sensible man! Dear me, we are losing all the wise things he can say. Let us hurry on—it was this way, I think.”
“No, no! Don’t you hear their voices down this path? Not twenty yards off, if it were not for these trees. Oh, do let me carry your parasol. You will want both hands to get along. Before you know where we are, we shall be in the broad road. Oh, I am so sorry—it was all my fault. You must let me undo the mischief I have done. May I show you how well I understand all roses?”
By good luck, combined with some little skill of mine, her simple yet wholly adorable frock was captured in three places by gooseberries whom I envied. I expected great delight from this. But she showed at once the sweetness of her temper, and her height above me. Instead of blushing stupidly, she smiled, and said—“Thank you, I will do it for myself. You can hardly be expected to understand such things.”
CHAPTER VIII.
BAD COUNSEL.
There are very few things that have the power to please us both in heart and mind, even when they have the will to do it, which is very seldom. Great events in our lives flash by without a word, and scarcely seem to give us time to chuckle, or to sob, till afterwards. But the little turns of time are more indulgent, and pass us with a sauntering foot, more often dull than lightsome.
For the moment, I was glad to find that my Uncle Cornelius, in his plain way, had taken a liking to my love. But I gave him little credit for it, inasmuch as it seemed impossible to me that he could do otherwise. Such was my petty jealousy that I did not even want