A Fair Emigrant, Chapter XXXII-XXXIV [pp. 359-384]

A FAIR EMIGRA T.
Now she sat with it high up in the orchard under the gnarled
old apple-trees, the whole wonderful panorama of the glen before
her, and the mountains behind and in front of her.
It was a splendid day in early autumn; soft, rich colors
seemed to move along the valley at her feet as the sunshine
shifted from one lovely spot to another. Bawn's heart was full
of a tumult that was half-trouble and half-joy. She had opened
the little book to try and still her storm by the magic of such
meek lessons as are to be found between the covers of the Following of Christ. As she read she was back in the old home in Minnesota, with the pathetic fact of her father's life-struggle looking
her in the face. She read on, hearing his voice between the lines,
and stopping occasionally to close her eyes and recall his eyes,
his look, his gesture. What a miserable, weak creature was she
who had audaciously thought herself so strong Here she was interrupted by the voice of Betty Macalister,
who came to tell her that Lord Aughrim had called to see
her.
"Tell him I am not at home-not at home, Betty, do you
hear?"
" But I tould him ye were at home, misthress, out in the orchard, an' he knows I came to tell ye."
Bawn stood up and looked at Betty, dropping her book in the
grass in her confusion.
" I don't want to see him. How shall I get rid of him? Let
me see!" And she knit her brows in thought. "Betty, go and
bring me your Sunday cloak and bonnet, and that freshly-ironed
cap I saw in your hand this morning, also that bit of lookingglass that you dress at; and be quick!"
Mrs. Macalister, greatly astonished, obeyed, knowing that her
mistress never gave unnecessary orders. On her return, bearing
the desired articles, she stood by open-mouthed while Bawn
pushed back her bright hair and tied the muslin cap down upon
her forehead, letting the heavy frills hang over her eyes. Next
was put on the deep coal-scuttle bonnet, which swallowed up all
that remained of Miss Ingram's face, and the voluminous twocaped cloak, which, with Betty's shawl underneath, made her
figure a good imitation of her serving-woman's. Lastly, she
seized a piece of beet-root growing near, and, breaking it, rubbed her face all over with the juice, especially the end of her
nose, till all that could be seen of her countenance had assumed
a thoroughly rubicund appearance.
"Misthress!" remonstrated Betty, "have ye lost yer sinses?"
368
[June,