The Senator's Favorite

CHAPTER XII.
"A VILLAGE COQUETTE."

 
"Laughing eyes, curly hair, dainty robes,
They had crazed his hot, fiery brain, then.
Ah, the silliest maiden can make
A fool of the wisest of men!"
 

—May Agnes Fleming.

"I am seventeen to-day, and I have thirteen lovers!" cried pretty, saucy Ladybird, pirouetting on the velvet greensward in front of her father's house at Rosemont until her short golden-brown locks danced in fluffy rings all over her round, white, babyish forehead.

"Thirteen is always an unlucky number. Thee ought to jilt thy last lover," cried Auntie Prue from the porch.

"Ay, but I won't, for I like the thirteenth best of all," laughed the little beauty.

"You'll rue the day if you marry him," cried Aura Stanley sharply.

She leaned against a rose-wreathed pillar of the porch, a tall girl in pink, with hard black eyes and thick brown hair in a rich braid. She lived next door and was the village lawyer's only daughter.

Before the Conways came here to live, five weeks ago, Aura had been called the prettiest girl in the village, but now the town was divided into two factions over the rival beauties, and among those who had gone over to the enemy was one on whom Aura's passionate heart was set.

"You'll rue the day, Ladybird, if you marry him," repeated Aura angrily, and held up her shapely white hand, on which glittered a splendid diamond ring; but, to her surprise and horror, the little dancing madcap laughed and answered teasingly:

"Nonsense! I'll be wearing that ring in a week, Aura."

"Never! I'll throw it in the river first," flashed Aura, and Aunt Prue caught the glance of jealous hate in the girl's black eyes.

She exclaimed soothingly:

"Aura, the child is only teasing thee. She does not want thy lover, dear."

Ladybird Conway turned her laughing hazel eyes on the old lady and protested gayly:

"But, Auntie Prue, he's my lover now. Doesn't he call on me three times a week, and send me flowers and books and candy? And hasn't he promised to escort me to the picnic to-morrow?"

"He asked me first, but I refused," cried Aura triumphantly, and added spitefully: "I wouldn't take what another girl refused."

"Neither would I!" flashed Ladybird, with such sarcastic emphasis that Aura flushed burning red at the intimation that she had told a falsehood.

"Girls, girls, don't thee quarrel over nothing!" cried the old Quakeress anxiously, but Aura was furious.

"Ladybird Conway, I'll never speak to you again," she cried, and flew down the graveled path, shutting the front gate with a vicious slam.

Aunt Prue cried out reprovingly:

"Thee has lost thy young friend forever, Ladybird, and thee ought to be ashamed of thyself, taking another girl's lover so audaciously."

"But he isn't hers—so there! I know, because I asked him. I said she claimed him, and if that was so not to come to see me any more. But he denied it. He said he had only known her two weeks when we moved here, and had no idea of being engaged to her. He lent her the ring because she asked him to, and she's only trying to claim him to vex me," and the lovely face, with its dancing hazel eyes and lilies and roses, looked quite earnest for a moment.

"But, child, thee ain't in love with this Earle Winans? Thee ain't thinking of marrying him, dear?"

Willful Ladybird smiled and blushed, and answered roguishly:

"Why, Auntie Prue, of course I intend to get married some time; I don't want to be an old maid like you; but I mean to marry the man that loves me best."

"The one that loves thee best? But, child, how can thee guess that out of thirteen lovers?"

"Oh, I have a grand plan to test all my lovers—at the picnic to-morrow!" and the fair face dimpled all over with mischievous laughter.

"Are they all going—the thirteen? Thee will not have any peace, child, and the other girls will be jealous."

"I don't care. It's such fun to have so many admirers showing me attention at the same time," laughed the little incarnation of sunny beauty and unconscious cruelty.

"But it's cruel to make the young men suffer so!" hazarded the kind-hearted old lady, and again the girl laughed archly:

"Suffer? Oh, pshaw! they need to have the conceit taken out of them," and Ladybird began to run over the category of the faults and foibles of her admirers, making such sarcastic hits that the old Quakeress shook with silent laughter and gave up her futile lecture on coquetry.

But when the girl paused for breath, all rosy and laughing, Aunt Prue exclaimed:

"Thee hasn't said a word about thy last lover—about Earle Winans."

"My thirteenth lover. Oh, no, I have no fault to find with him. He is simply perfect," cried Ladybird, as innocently as if she had not guessed that Aura Stanley was listening behind her parlor blinds to every word.

Aura was listening, her eyes wrathful, her cheeks burning.

But she heard no more just then.

After that saucy parting shot Ladybird sat down on the porch steps like a little child, with her round, dimpled chin in the hollow of her soft little hand, and fell to watching the rosy sunset as the god of day sank to rest behind the purple western hills. Her face wore a pensive cast that made her look positively angelic. And yet she was actually meditating a deed of girlish diablerie on the morrow, the naughty little coquette!

The next day was perfect—a May day, clear and golden, and when the fervid sunbeams began to dry the dew-tears from the eyes of the blue violets in the grass, the gay picnic party assembled in the Rosemont orchard by the river, the scene of the day's festivities.

All the prettiest girls of the village were there, and not one of Ladybird's lovers had stayed away. And how they envied handsome Earle Winans, who was her special companion for the day, while they had to be content with other girls—pretty enough, to be sure—but—"not the rose."

Aura Stanley had come with Clarence Grey, but she knew she was second choice, that he had asked Ladybird first, and she could hardly control her bitter resentment.

Ladybird gave her a saucy nod and smile when they met, but Aura averted her head in jealous anger when she saw how lovely her rival looked in her white flannel suit with the blue silk blouse showing under the open white jacket, and the white sailor hat crowning the little head, with its fluffy rings of golden brown.

"Miss Stanley would not speak to you—why?" Earle Winans asked in surprise.

"Because I teased her yesterday. I—I—told her I'd be wearing that ring of yours within a week," and Ladybird gave him a coquettish side glance from her dazzling eyes that made his heart leap and his cheek burn.

She was playing with fire, this thoughtless girl, for Earle Winans' heart knew how to love with burning passion.

His voice trembled with emotion as he said eagerly:

"Would you like to have the ring, Miss Conway?"

"I, Mr. Winans? Why, certainly not. I was only teasing Aura; she seemed to prize it so highly and declared she would throw it in the river before I should have it," asserted Ladybird, gayly.

"I will get the ring for you any minute you say you'll wear it, Ladybird. You know what I mean—as my betrothed," murmured her handsome young lover eagerly.

Ladybird blushed rosy red, then smiled brightly and whispered back:

"I'll give you my answer to-morrow."

And all his pleading would not induce her to shorten his probation.

"To-morrow—you must wait till to-morrow," she repeated, but her drooping eyes and rosy blushes made him almost certain what her answer would be.

Aura Stanley watched the lovers with a jealous pang, for it was a cruel blow to lose Earle, whom she had hoped to captivate, not only because she loved him, but because he was the son of a great man and had a fortune in his own right. She was ambitious and longed to reign a social queen.

By some clever maneuvering she managed to get a tête-à-tête by the river bank with Earle that day, and then she said coldly:

"Ah, really, I must return your ring, Mr. Winans."

She held the glittering circlet toward him on the end of her taper finger, and somehow, just as he was about to accept the ring, it slipped off Aura's finger, flashed like an evil eye in the sunlight, then rolled into the river.

"Oh, I am so sorry—but it was an accident," cried Aura quickly.

The young man's eyes flashed with anger, and he cried with stinging contempt:

"Oh, no, you did it on purpose, because you thought I meant to give it to Miss Conway. But it does not matter; I will buy her a prettier one to-morrow."

Aura sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing, her cheeks crimson, and exclaimed in a loud, angry voice:

"You villain! How dare you insult me like that?"

CHAPTER XIII.
LADYBIRD'S LOVE-TEST

 
"Proud young head, so lightly lifted,
Crowned with waves of gleaming hair;
Eyes that flash with tell-tale mischief,
Fearless eyes to do and dare;
Cheeks that start to sudden flame,
Willful mouths that none can tame."
 

—Elaine Goodale.

Those angry words to Aura Stanley had barely passed Earle Winans' lips ere he regretted them, although he knew quite well that she had deserved them, and had dropped the ring purposely, as she had told Ladybird she would do.

But he regretted his exhibition of temper, and was about to apologize, when her angry words arrested the speech on his lips.

"You villain! How dare you insult me like that!"

Although they seemed to be alone on the river-bank, there were several young men near by under a tree, and, catching Aura's angry denunciation, they hurried to the spot.

Aura turned quickly toward them, exclaiming maliciously:

"Gentlemen, Earle Winans has insulted me, and if I had a brother to take my part he should knock the coward down!"

All of these young gentlemen admired Ladybird Conway, and envied Earle Winans because she had shown a preference for him. Accordingly they were eager to take Aura's part, just to humiliate their dangerous rival. The foremost one therefore sprang with fierce agility at Earle just as he was rising from his seat on the grassy bank, and with a stinging blow knocked him backward to the ground.

There was laughter—spiteful from Aura, appreciative from the men—but it did not last long.

Earle Winans scarcely touched the earth ere he rebounded like a ball, and flew directly at Jack Tennant, his adversary, a big, burly fellow, with fists like iron.

Earle was slender, but he was an athlete too, and with a rush he caught his assailant around the waist with both arms, lifted him almost above his head, and hurled him with superb strength far out into the river, firing after him this parting shot:

"There, my lad! a cold bath will cool your temper!" Then he turned a scornful smile on the others. "Are there any more who wish to play the rôle of Miss Stanley's brothers?" he sneered.

"Oh, no; the quarrel is between you and Jack Tennant," they hastily replied, having no desire to be made ridiculous like their hasty friend, who was now swimming ashore, his picnic toggery, sash and flannels, dripping and ruined, but with his rage not yet cooled, for as he clambered up the bank he exclaimed:

"Mr. Earle Winans, I will fight this quarrel out with you now."

Earle's handsome face flushed with anger, but, holding in his temper, he answered with cool scorn:

"Your pardon, but it would not be quite proper to settle it in a lady's presence. I will send a friend to you to-morrow."

"A duel! Oh, Heaven!" cried Aura, in a panic of fear, but no one seemed to notice her as she sank trembling on the grassy bank. Mark Gwinn exclaimed kindly:

"I'll drive you home for your dry clothes, Jack, and we can be back in a jiffy."

They were all turning away, but Earle Winans arrested them with one stern word:

"Wait!"

They all turned back to him in impatient surprise.

Pale with anger, he pointed to Aura, crouching on the green, flowery bank.

"Miss Stanley, you must now repeat to these gentlemen who defended you the words of my insult."

Flashing on Earle a glance of sullen resentment, she obeyed.

"I dropped his diamond ring into the water—and he said I did it on purpose."

"Was that all?" exclaimed a wondering voice.

"That was all," Aura answered indignantly, and every one turned away and left Aura alone with the bitter consciousness that they despised her, while as for Jack Tennant, he felt decidedly blue at the prospect of a duel with the fiery Earle Winans for the sake of a girl he didn't care two straws for, as he, like all the others, adored the bewitching Miss Conway.

But Aura had carried out her threat to Ladybird. The beautiful ring was in the river, and would never shine on the little white hand of her lovely rival. Her jealous malice was gratified, at least, and she cared very little if Earle fought a duel and lost his life. She would rather see him dead than married to that little coquette Ladybird.

Meanwhile Miss Conway, all unconscious of what had happened at the lower end of the orchard, was sitting on a mossy throne under a wide-spreading apple tree, holding mimic court. Her adoring subjects had woven a wreath of apple blossoms, and crowned her Queen of May.

"Somebody give us a song, please. It's a day for love, and poetry, and song!" she cried gayly.

"Don't you think the birds sing sweetest, dear?" asked a fair girl by her side, one that she called her maid of honor.

But the girl under the next nearest tree—the girl with the guitar—thought differently. She touched her instrument with soft, loving fingers, and her tender voice was so low and sweet that it seemed to blend with the bird songs, the soft rustle of the leaves, and the ripple of the river.

 
"Oh, darling, when you love me,
The sky is soft and bright;
Life asks no troubled questions,
The world is safe and right.
I whisper happy secrets
With every flower and tree,
And lark and thrush and linnet
Sing all their songs for me!
 
 
"Oh, darling, when you chide me,
The world is dumb and cold;
The mists creep up the valley,
And all the year is old;
The fields are black and sodden,
The shivering woods are sere!
I see no face in heaven,
And death is very near!
 
 
"Oh, darling, always love me,
The song-birds look to you;
The skies await your bidding,
To dome the world with blue.
Then keep the rose in glory,
And make the swallow stay,
And hold the year forever
At summer's crowning day!"
 

While the pretty girl was singing, Earle Winans came up silently and stood by the tree, looking down at Ladybird with the apple-blossom wreath on her shining hair.

Ladybird's arch, pretty face had grown pensive while she listened to the song, and her tiny white hand, with its babyish dimples, played absently with a branch of pink crab-apple blooms that lay in her lap. She was more lovely than any picture ever painted, and Earle's heart swelled with a passionate longing to catch the exquisite young creature in his arms and press all that budding beauty against his ardent breast.

Ladybird knew that he was there, but she would not turn her head; and when the song came to an end she sighed and murmured softly:

"I wonder what this love is like of which poets sing, and lovers rave, and spring-birds warble. It must be very sweet."

"My darling, let me teach you all its sweetness," murmured Earle's voice in her ear, but though a swift blush burned her face, she shrugged her willful shoulders, and continued in a louder voice, that all around might hear:

"If I ever do fall in love, it will be with a hero, with some man who has done something great, or perhaps risked his life to save mine. I don't believe I could ever love a common, everyday sort of man, like the ones I know, unless he turned out to be a hero. Then I could worship him!"

And just a few hours later those words, spoken in such artless innocence, came back to the heart of every man there—came back with a thrill of love and hope.

She had stolen away from them all a short time before, and just as they were wondering what had become of the little sprite, they heard some one singing blithely on the river.

It was Ladybird in a little blue boat, rowing herself with consummate skill, the water falling in silvery sparkles from the light oars. Her pretty face glowed rosily, and her eyes danced with fun as she trilled a gay little boating song. It was the bonniest sight ever seen on the broad, beautiful river flowing between its banks of spring-time green.

Every one ran down to the bank—every one but Aura Stanley, who sulked beneath a tree.

"Take me in, Ladybird—take me!" called one after another eagerly; but she cried out saucily:

"I will take one of the gentlemen to row me, because my arms are getting tired."

All in a minute followed the terrible accident.

In the middle of the river where she was rowing it was deep and dangerous, but she seemed to forget that in her joyous excitement; and, turning the boat too quickly toward the shore, it careened over, and Ladybird fell into the water. One long shriek of fear and terror, and the rippling waves of the beautiful river closed sullenly over the little head!

A cry of grief arose from fifty throats, but it was speedily turned to a cheer, for—Splash! splash! splash! came the sounds, too fast to count, and twelve out of Ladybird's thirteen lovers had leaped boldly into the river to save her precious life.

CHAPTER XIV.
"LIKE DIAN'S KISS."

 
"Oh, think when a hero is sighing,
What danger in such an adorer!
What woman would dream of denying
The hand that lays laurels before her?
No heart is so guarded around
But the smile of a victor would take it;
No bosom can slumber so sound
But the trumpet of glory will wake it."
 

Rosemont was one of the most ideally beautiful summer houses in Fauquier County.

It was a large white mansion, in villa style, surrounded by flower-gardens and pleasure-grounds, with a charming mountain view, and, nearer home, the silvery windings of the Rappahannock River forming the southern boundary of the large estate.

On the afternoon of the picnic Precious Winans swung lazily in a hammock on the long front piazza, while her favorite, Kay, the immense mastiff, lay within touch of the tiny white hand that every little while reached down to caress the tawny head.

At some distance away Mistress Norah, the good-natured nurse, sat cozily in an armchair, knitting lace.

Along the lattice-work that shaded the end of the piazza clambered a great honeysuckle vine loaded with odorous, creamy-white blooms. Here the busy little bees hummed ceaselessly, bright-winged butterflies hovered, and two robins flew in and out of the branches with straws for a nest. The golden sunshine sifting through the leaves in light and shade on the girl's white gown and sunny head seemed like the spirit of peace spreading its brooding wings over the lovely, quiet scene.

Precious had been reading a book of poems. It lay open now under one white hand, and with half-shut, dreamy eyes, she was recalling the last lines she had read:

 
"Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep impassioned gaze.
 
 
"It comes—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,
In silence and alone,
To seek the elected one."
 

The velvety blue of the young girl's eyes looked very soft and tender under the long-fringed lashes that were so dark by contrast with the sunshine of her hair.

She was wondering when love would come to her, and if she would find it sweet.

"Ethel is in love, and she seems very happy," she thought. "And there is Earle—he seems grave and thoughtful lately; and my wise nurse, Norah, declares it's because he is losing his heart to a lovely girl down in the village, a little creature with hazel eyes like stars, and a dimpled face all lilies and roses. I would like to see this pretty girl, only Norah keeps me almost a prisoner, lest I should be kidnaped again. I asked Earle about her, and he laughed and colored, and said perhaps he would bring her to see me some day."

She lifted her voice, and cried out:

"Norah, I wish we could go down to the picnic. I can catch voices on the breeze—voices and laughter. They seem to be having a lovely time, and it is so poky here! Earle is there, you know. Do let us go, too—you and me and Kay!"

"Oh no, my dear, not for the world! The doctor said you were to be very quiet here."

"But I am quite well again. See how plump my cheeks are, and how rosy!"

"But, my Precious, you are very nervous yet. In your dreams you start and cry out about the fire, and the dreadful old woman, and your sister Ethel."

"What about Ethel?" demanded Precious quickly, the delicate color flying from her cheeks.

Nurse Norah answered placidly:

"In your dreams, dearie, it always seems as if Ethel had been with you that day when you were struggling to get out of the fire. Once you cried out, 'Ethel, Ethel, the rope is finished, and you are going down first, then I will follow. And you will catch me if I fall!' Then again you cried: 'The rope has broken. Ethel, are you hurt? No, no, I cannot jump now! I am lost! lost! lost!'"

The beautiful eyes of Precious grew wild and startled.

"Oh, what strange dreams!" she cried tremblingly. "I wish you had not listened, Norah; they were only dreams!"

"Yes, I know, my pet, but they show that you are not quite strong yet, and it is better not to go about into society until you are well again. But I think you ought to have some young girls to visit you, and I will ask your brother to bring that little star-eyed village girl to see you."

"She is here now!" cried Earle's voice, with a ripple of laughter in its low music.

They started and looked, and there he stood with a dripping figure by his side, a girl in white flannel, bareheaded, with wet brown curls all over her little head, and starry hazel eyes alight with laughter.

"Miss Conway has had an accident—fallen into the river, Precious, and I brought her up here for some of your dry clothes, also to make your acquaintance, as I knew you were lonely," explained Earle easily.

"You poor darling!" cried Precious, and her heart went out to the little beauty in a swift rush of tenderness. She took Ladybird's hand. "Come, let us go upstairs. My clothes will fit you, I know!"

Earle detained them a moment.

"I am going down to the telegraph office a moment. Please stay here till I come back, Miss Conway. I will take you home in due time."

"I thank you," Ladybird answered with a stiff little courtesy, then she followed Precious and Norah upstairs.

Some dry garments were soon found, and Norah took the wet ones away.

"You shall have them nice and dry directly," she said kindly, but as she took her way kitchenward, she mused: "This pretty girl reminds me very, very much of the lovely Miss Clendenon, Mrs. Winans' girl-friend, that afterward married Mr. Bruce Conway. This one is like her, but it could not be her daughter, for the little one she named for my mistress, Grace Willard, died before it was a year old, and poor Mrs. Conway, sweet little soul, died herself two years after, and I never heard that she left a child, although to be sure we were abroad then, and when we got home all the Conways were dead but Mr. Bruce, and he had disappeared. He always was a rolling stone."

Meanwhile the two young girls, left alone in the beautiful airy room upstairs, proceeded to get acquainted.

"I don't feel any worse from my ducking, dear, but I'll lie on the bed awhile and rest," cried Ladybird, rumpling up her wet curls with taper fingers.

"Do, dear, and tell me all about it. How did you happen to fall in?" asked Precious.

"It's a long story, Miss Winans," laughingly.

"Call me Precious," said the girl sweetly.

"Thank you, I will; but is that your real name? I never heard of any one named Precious."

"My real name is Pearl; but my mamma called me Precious Pearl so much that it became shortened at last to Precious."

"And my name is Lulu, but my dear mamma died soon after I was born, and then papa could not bear to hear that name spoken, because it had been hers. So they began with Ladybird when I was little, and it has been my name ever since, so I will call you Precious if you will call me Ladybird."

"Very well. And now, Ladybird, you will tell me how you came to fall in the water."

She saw the hazel eyes flash with laughter, and Ladybird cried:

"Oh, Precious, will you keep it secret? Will you never, never tell?"

"Never!" answered Precious promptly, and then her guest said gayly:

"I was in a little row-boat on the river, and I fell into the water. They all thought it was an accident, but—you're never to tell any one, you know—I did it purposely. I fell in for them to jump in and rescue me."

"But why?" queried Precious, with astonished blue eyes.

"I will tell you," answered the little madcap, with a silvery peal of laughter. "I have several lovers, Precious, and I wanted to test their love. I thought the one that loved me best would jump in after me."

"And did he, Ladybird?"

"They all jumped, Precious!"

"All? How many?"

"Twelve," answered Ladybird, with a little moue of actual disgust.

Then the astonishment of the other girl's face moved her to mocking laughter.

"You darling girl! how surprised you look! But I don't blame you. It was very silly for them all to jump in after me! I shall never forget when I lay on the bank after I was rescued, how funny they all looked in their wet clothes, as they crowded around me!" and she laughed ungratefully.

"But—twelve lovers!—I never heard of a girl having so many!" and the younger girl's eyes dilated with wonder.

"Did you never have a lover, Precious?"

"No—I am too young—only sixteen," and Precious blushed at the very thought of a lover.

"I am only seventeen, and I have a dozen. I thought I had thirteen, but when I tested them there were but twelve," cried Ladybird, tossing her dainty head with decided pique.

"Did—my—brother—jump in the water after you?" cried Precious quickly.

"No, indeed—he was not a hero like the others," and Ladybird curled a disdainful lip.

"Do you like heroes, Ladybird?"

"I adore them! If I ever marry any one, he must be brave and grand. I couldn't love a coward!"

"I admire heroes too," cried Precious, her cheek glowing with sudden warmth, her violet eyes shining; and then Ladybird cried eagerly:

"You must admire Lord Chester very much, dear, for I read in the papers how he rescued you from a burning house. It was grand, was it not? and I suppose you will be sure to marry him some day, for that is the way it always turns out in novels."

"You must be very romantic," answered Precious, smiling, though the crimson blushes seemed to burn her lovely face. A moment later she added, in a pensive tone: "I have never seen Lord Chester but once. He is very grand and handsome, but he is my sister Ethel's lover."

"Oh! So he saved your life for her sweet sake! She must really adore him for his bravery; but I wish he would fall in love with you now, you beautiful darling!" cried impulsive Ladybird, entirely disregarding Ethel's claim in her love of romantic denouements.

Norah came in just then with Ladybird's clothing nicely dried and pressed, and by the time she was dressed, and the fluffy curls dried, Earle Winans returned to take her home. As it was almost sunset, she took an affectionate leave of her new friend, promising to keep up the pleasant friendship begun to-day, neither of them dreaming of the untoward events that a day was to bring forth.