CHAPTER XXV. THE LITTLE COUNTESS.

Cheerfulasmygodmothernaturallywas,andentertainingas,foroursakes,shemadeapointofbeing,therewasnotrueenjoymentthateveningatLaTerrasse,till,throughthewildhowlofthewinter-night,wereheardthesignalsoundsofarrival.Howoften,whilewomenandgirlssitwarmatsnugfire-sides,theirheartsandimaginationsaredoomedtodivorcefromthecomfortsurroundingtheirpersons,forcedoutbynighttowanderthroughdarkways,todarestressofweather,tocontendwiththesnow-blast,towaitatlonelygatesandstilesinwildeststorms,watchingandlisteningtoseeandhearthefather,theson,thehusbandcominghome. Fatherandsoncameatlasttothechateau:fortheCountdeBassompierrethatnightaccompaniedDr.Bretton.Iknownotwhichofourtrioheardthehorsesfirsttheasperity,theviolenceoftheweatherwarrantedourrunningdownintothehalltomeetandgreetthetworidersastheycameinbuttheywarnedustokeepourdistance:bothwerewhite—twomountainsofsnowandindeedMrs.Bretton,seeingtheircondition,orderedtheminstantlytothekitchenprohibitingthem,attheirperil,fromsettingfootonhercarpetedstaircasetilltheyhadseverallyputoffthatmaskofOldChristmastheynowaffected.Intothekitchen,however,wecouldnothelpfollowingthem:itwasalargeoldDutchkitchen,picturesqueandpleasant.ThelittlewhiteCountessdancedinacircleaboutherequallywhitesire,clappingherhandsandcrying,“Papa,papa,youlooklikeanenormousPolarbear.” Thebearshookhimself,andthelittlespritefledfarfromthefrozenshower.Backshecame,however,laughing,andeagertoaidinremovingthearcticdisguise.TheCount,atlastissuingfromhisdreadnought,threatenedtooverwhelmherwithitaswithanavalanche. “Come,then,”saidshe,bendingtoinvitethefall,andwhenitwasplayfullyadvancedaboveherhead,boundingoutofreachlikesomelittlechamois. Hermovementshadthesupplesoftness,thevelvetgraceofakittenherlaughwasclearerthantheringofsilverandcrystalasshetookhersire’scoldhandsandrubbedthem,andstoodontiptoetoreachhislipsforakiss,thereseemedtoshineroundherahalooflovingdelight.Thegraveandreverendseignorlookeddownonherasmendolookonwhatistheappleoftheireye. “Mrs.Bretton,”saidhe:“whatamItodowiththisdaughterordaughterlingofmine?Sheneithergrowsinwisdomnorinstature.Don’tyoufindherprettynearlyasmuchthechildasshewastenyearsago?” “Shecannotbemorethechildthanthisgreatboyofmine,”saidMrs.Bretton,whowasinconflictwithhersonaboutsomechangeofdressshedeemedadvisable,andwhichheresisted.HestoodleaningagainsttheDutchdresser,laughingandkeepingheratarm’slength. “Come,mamma,”saidhe,“bywayofcompromise,andtosecureforusinwardaswellasoutwardwarmth,letushaveaChristmaswassail-cup,andtoastOldEnglandhere,onthehearth.” So,whiletheCountstoodbythefire,andPaulinaMarystilldancedtoandfro—happyinthelibertyofthewidehall-likekitchen—Mrs.BrettonherselfinstructedMarthatospiceandheatthewassail-bowl,and,pouringthedraughtintoaBrettonflagon,itwasservedround,reaminghot,bymeansofasmallsilvervessel,whichIrecognisedasGraham’schristening-cup. “Here’stoAuldLangSyne!”saidtheCountholdingtheglancingcuponhigh.Then,lookingatMrs.Bretton.— “Wetwaha’paidleti’theburn Framorningsuntilldine, Butseasbetweenusbraidha’roared Sin’auldlanesyne. “Andsurelyye’llbeyourpint-stoup, AndsurelyI’llbemine Andwe’lltasteacupo’kindnessyet Forauldlangsyne.” “Scotch!Scotch!”criedPaulina“papaistalkingScotchandScotchheis,partly.WeareHomeanddeBassompierre,CaledonianandGallic.” “AndisthataScotchreelyouaredancing,youHighlandfairy?”askedherfather.“Mrs.Bretton,therewillbeagreenringgrowingupinthemiddleofyourkitchenshortly.Iwouldnotanswerforherbeingquitecannie:sheisastrangelittlemortal.” “TellLucytodancewithme,papathereisLucySnowe.” Mr.Home(therewasstillquiteasmuchabouthimofplainMr.HomeasofproudCountdeBassompierre)heldhishandouttome,sayingkindly,“herememberedmewelland,evenhadhisownmemorybeenlesstrustworthy,mynamewassooftenonhisdaughter’slips,andhehadlistenedtosomanylongtalesaboutme,Ishouldseemlikeanoldacquaintance.” Everyonenowhadtastedthewassail-cupexceptPaulina,whosepasdefée,oudefantaisie,nobodythoughtofinterruptingtooffersoprofanatoryadraughtbutshewasnottobeoverlooked,norbaulkedofhermortalprivileges. “Letmetaste,”saidshetoGraham,ashewasputtingthecupontheshelfofthedresseroutofherreach. Mrs.BrettonandMr.Homewerenowengagedinconversation.Dr.Johnhadnotbeenunobservantofthefairy’sdancehehadwatchedit,andhehadlikedit.Tosaynothingofthesoftnessandbeautyofthemovements,eminentlygratefultohisgrace-lovingeye,thateaseinhismother’shousecharmedhim,foritsethimatease:againsheseemedachildforhim—again,almosthisplaymate.IwonderedhowhewouldspeaktoherIhadnotyetseenhimaddressherhisfirstwordsprovedthattheolddaysof“littlePolly”hadbeenrecalledtohismindbythisevening’schild-likelight-heartedness. “Yourladyshipwishesforthetankard?” “IthinkIsaidso.IthinkIintimatedasmuch.” “Couldn’tconsenttoastepofthekindonanyaccount.Sorryforit,butcouldn’tdoit.” “Why?Iamquitewellnow:itcan’tbreakmycollar-boneagain,