Red Rose and Tiger Lily | Page 3

sound of the carriage wheels!" she exclaimed. "Eh dear, eh dear, I meant to be down on the front steps to greet you, Miss Nan. Eh, but you look bonny, and let me examine your hair, dear--I hope they cut the points regular. If they don't, it will break away and not keep even."
"Oh, don't bother about my hair now," said Nan. "What does hair signify when a child has just got home, and when she wants a kiss more than anything else in the world? Now, nursey, sit down in that low armchair and let us have a real hug. That's better; and how are you? You look as jolly as ever."
"So I am, my pet; I'm as happy as the day is long since Miss Hetty has come home and took the housekeeping over. I was in a mortal fret before, with her at school and you at school, but now I think the danger is past."
"What danger?" asked Nan; "you always were a dear old croak, you know, nurse."
"Yes, pet, perhaps so; but I didn't fret without reason, you may be quite sure of that."
"Well, what were you afraid of? You know I'm an awfully curious girl, so you must tell me."
"It's a sin to be too curious, Miss Nan--it leads people into untold mischief. Curiosity was the sin of Eve, and it's best to nip it in the bud while you're young. Now let me brush out your hair, my darling, and get you ready for supper."
"Yes, in a minute," said Nan. She pushed back the shady hat in which she had traveled, and seated herself afresh on her nurse's knee.
"How do my kisses feel?" she asked, breathing a very soft one on each of the old woman's cheeks.
"Eh, dear," said the nurse, "they're like fresh cream and strawberries."
"Well, you shall have six more if you tell me what your fears were."
Nurse looked admiringly back at Nan.
"You're just the audacious, contrary, troublesome bit of a thing you always were," she said; "but somehow I can't resist you. There's no fear now of anything happening, so you needn't be in a taking; but what did put me out was this: I thought your father, Sir John, might be bringing a new mistress here."
"What! a new mistress?--A housekeeper, do you mean?" Nan's brown eyes were open at their widest.
"No, dearie, no, a wife--someone to take the head of the house. Men like Sir John must have their comforts, and a house without a mistress isn't as it ought to be. But there, Miss Hetty is here now, and that makes everything right."
"But a new mistress," repeated Nan--"a new wife for father. Why, she--she'd be a stepmother. Oh, how I'd hate her."
"Well, darling, there's not going to be any such person; it was only an idle fear of your poor old nurse's that will never come to anything. Forget that I said it to you, Miss Nan. Oh, my word! and there's the gong, so supper is ready, and Sir John won't like to be kept waiting. Let me brush out your hair, I won't be a minute. Now, there's my pretty. It's good to have you back again, Miss Nancy. Only I misdoubt me that you'll turn the house topsy-turvey, as you always and ever did."
While nurse was speaking, she was deftly and quickly changing Nan's travel-stained frock for a white one, and was tying a coral pink sash round her waist.
"Now you're ready," she said, giving the little figure a final pat.
Nan shook out her golden mane and went demurely downstairs--more demurely than was her wont. The dawning of possible trouble filled her sweet eyes. A new wife--a possible stepmother! Oh, no, by no possibility could such a horror be coming; nevertheless, her full cup of happiness was vaguely troubled by the thought.
CHAPTER II.
CRUSHED.
Sir John Thornton could be a very pleasant host. He was a reserved man with a really cold nature. He disliked fuss and what he called "ebullitions of affection;" he hated kissing and fondling. He liked to treat even his nearest and dearest with ceremony, but he was a perfect host--the little attentions, the small politenesses which the r?le of host requires, suited his character exactly. Hester and Nan, his only children, were his opposites in every respect. It is true that Hester inherited some of his pride, and a good deal of his reserve, but the fire underneath her calm, the passionate love which she could give so warmly to her chosen friends, she inherited from her mother, not from her father. Nan had never yet shown reserve to anyone. As far as any creature could be said to be without false pride, Nan was that individual--she was also absolutely devoid of fear. She believed that all the world loved her. Why not?