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Page 71
Then with a sigh she dropped her shade, and, slipping her hand into
his, let him lead her, as she walked along with closed eyes.
"You are an appreciative little puss," he said, smiling.
As they walked on under the glowing arch, hand in hand, he told her that
he was coming back for her in the fall; that Eugenia wanted her to go
abroad with them, and that he thought such an arrangement would be good
for both the girls. Good for Eugenia, because otherwise she would often
be left for days at a time with only Eliot for a companion, when he was
away on business. Good for Betty, since she could be enjoying the
advantages of travel at a time when she could not be using her eyes to
study.
"You shall see Abbotsford," he said, "and Burns's country, and go to
Shakespeare's home. And you shall coach among the English lakes where
Wordsworth learned to write. Then there is Rome, on her seven hills, you
know, and the canals of Venice and the Dutch windmills and the Black
Forest. You shall hear the legends of all the historic rivers you cross
and mountains you climb, and listen to the music of the Norwegian
waterfalls. Don't you think it will help you to be a better tale-teller
for the children, some day, my little 'Tusitala?'
"You see your godmother has been telling me some of your secrets and
showing me some of your poems and stories. What do you say, Betty? Will
you go?"
"Will I go?" cried Betty, joyfully, holding his hand tight in both her
own and pressing it lovingly to her cheek. "Oh, Cousin Carl! You might
as well ask me if I would go to heaven if a big strong angel had come
down on purpose to carry me up! Oh, _why_ is everybody so good to me? I
can't understand it."
They had reached the gate, and were turning to walk back to the house.
Mr. Forbes laid his hand on the brown curly head with a fatherly touch.
"I'll tell you some day," he said, "when there is more time. It is all
because of that road you discovered, little one, that Road of the Loving
Heart. I don't wear a ring as Eugenia does, to remind me of it, but I've
been carrying the inspiration of it in my memory, ever since she wrote
me all that you had taught her about it."
They walked slowly back to the house together under the locusts that
arched their star-blossomed boughs above them. The band was playing
softly, and Betty, uplifted by the music, the lights, and the good
fortune in store for her, could hardly believe that her feet were
touching the earth. She seemed to be floating along in some sort of
dreamland. The old feeling swept over her that always came with the
music of the harp. It was as if she were away off from everything, her
head among the stars, and strange, beautiful thoughts that she had no
words for danced on ahead like shining will-o'-the-wisps.
Joyce was the first to share her good fortune, and while she was telling
it Eugenia came up with another joyful announcement.
"We are going to Tours," she cried, "and across the Loire to St.
Symphorien, where Joyce stayed all winter. And we'll see the Gate of the
Giant Scissors, and little Jules who lives there."
"I am so glad," said Joyce. "You must get Madame Greville to show you
everything; the kiosk in the old garden where we had our Thanksgiving
barbecue; the coach-house where we shut up the goats that day when they
chewed the cushions of the pony-cart to pieces; and the room where we
had the Christmas tree, and the laurel hedges in bloom--oh, I'm so glad
you're going to see them all."
"What's that?" asked the Little Colonel, coming up behind them; and then
Betty told her, too.
"Only think! Lloyd Sherman," she added, giving her a rapturous hug, "if
it hadn't been for you it never would have happened. It's all because
you had this delightful house party and invited me to come."
"Here comes Mrs. MacIntyre," interrupted Joyce, in a low tone. "Did you
ever see anything so fine and soft and fluffy as that beautiful white
hair of hers? It looks like a crimped snow-drift. I wouldn't mind being
a grandmother to-morrow if I could look like that."
She came up smiling, and beckoned the girls to follow her. "I want to
show you something comical," she said. "I just discovered it." She led
the way to the end of the porch, and there, standing in a row, were six
little darkies, so black that their faces scarcely showed against the
black background of the night. Only their rolling white eyeballs and
gleaming teeth could be seen distinctly.
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