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, art i esß child bounded down to the meeting with Ned’s father
ritli a joyous, cheerful sentiment of delight and expectation. She
hew that he would come, —that he was bound to come to make
• acknowledgments, —but, somehow, there was a vague, undefin
[,le feeling in her little heart, that his coming augured something
nore grateful,— something more positive than a mere formality.
; jj o fancied that the snows of winter were about to thaw , and, like
i dad bird, she bounded forth with song to welcome in the first
unshine and the infant promise of the spring. And the old
Major, bigoted and prejudiced, and feeling, as he did, that she
tood in the way of one of his most cherished schemes in behalf
jf his son, he could not resist the child-like confidence, the unaf
fected and pure innocence of soul and spirit which displayed itself
oliis eye on her approach —so frank, so free, so joyous, the union
>fchild and angel, so sw r eetly mingled in look and manner! She
;ame towards him with extended hands, but he caught her in his
irms. and kissed her, I fancy quite as affectionately as he would
lave done Beatrice Mazyck; then he put her from him at arm’s
eno-th, and looked kindly into her large, bright, dewy eyes.
“Oh ! I’m so glad to see you, and to see you well again, Major.”
“Mv dear child, 1 owe it, perhaps, to you and to your good
grandmother, that I am well again—or nearly so.”
Paula did not disclaim the service, as many foolish people would
do. She acted more wisely —said not a word about it; but look
up at the scar, cried out, with child-like freedom:—
“ But you have got a mark for life, Major. That was a terrible
cut.”
“Ah! my dear, but not half so severe as that which you would
have made upon my heart, were I thirty years younger. As
it is, I don’t know how much love I do not owe you, old as I am.”
And he took her again into his arms, and seated her upon his
knees, and began to think that, after all, it was really not so strange
that Med Bulmer should take a fancy to the little damsel, though
she was of that pernicious French stock. And the old man and
the young girl prattled together like two children that have chased
butterflies together, until the moment when that gem from the an
tique, Madame Girardin, strode into the apartment, looking very
much like a crane on a visit of special ceremonial feeding, at the
Court of the Frogs.
“Mrs. Girardin,” quoth the Major, rising and making his famous
how, though at the cost of a few severe twitches of the back and
arms, —“ I come, my dear Madame, to return you my best thanks
lor your kindness and singular attention to myself and son, at a
moment of very great pain and imminent danger to both. Aou
tol the part, my dear Madame, of the good Samaritan, and
“hen I think of the coldness of the night, your exposure on the
Mump earth, your fatigue, at an hour when repose was absolutely
necessary,'—the judicious efforts you employed, and the prompt
intelligence which made you provide for immediate help, I feel
utterly at a loss for words to say how deeply I am penetrated by
‘ our hindness and benevolent consideration. I trust, my dear
-b\ Girardin, that you will receive my assurances in the spirit in
“hi<h they are tendered, and that, hereafter, we shall become
111111 to each other than mere passing acquaintances of the same
parish.”
Ihe Major had evidently meditated this speech with a great
l ’ of care. It betrayed cogitation, and this was its fault. His
1 1 was to express his feelings distinctly, and to declare his con-
THE GOLDEN CHRISTMAS.
viction of the friendly and useful assistance of the lady; yet with
out falling into formality. But, that he meditated at all, what he
had to say, necessarily led him into formality. This is always the
eiror with impulsive men, who forget that when impulse has be
come habitual, it lias also become equally polished, proper and ex
piessice. lam speaking now of educated people, of course. A
man so impulsive as Major Bulmer, it is to be expected, must oc
casionally err in speech; but a man who is so free and frequent a
speaker, is never apt to err very greatly, if he will leave himself
alone, and wait for the promptings of the occasion. Had he, by
accident, encountered Mi's. Girardin the morning after the accident,
he w ould have thanked her in a single sentence and a look; and
his gratitude would have seemed more decidedly warm from the
heart, than it now declared itself.
But I am not so sure, remembering the sort of frigid person
with whom he had to deal, that his present mode of address was
not the most appropriate. It sounded dignified,—it appealed to
her dignity. He made it an affair of state, and her state was ac
cordingly lifted by it. It showed him deliberate in his approaches,
even when his object was to give thanks, and this displayed his
high sense of the service, and of the importance of the person ad
dressed. All of which was rather grateful than otherwise to a
person who still longed for the return of hoops and high head
dresses. She answered him in similar fashion, —‘ She had done
her duty only. We must give help to one another in the hour of
distress and affliction. Major Bulnier’s rank in society justified
her departure from some of its strictnesses, in the effort to assist
him. She w T as conscious of the impropriety, ordinarily, of stooping
beside a gentleman, particularly on the high road; but she begged
him to believe that, before she did so, she ascertained that he was
actually insensible. She herself saw the blood streaming from
his brows. She heard his groans. Otherwise, he was quite speech
less. Under the circumstances, she had a Christian charity to ful
fil. She thanked God she was a Christian, —true, a most unwor
thy one, —hut she prayed nightly for Heavenly Grace to make her
better. She happy to believe that her prayers had been
somewhat heard, assuming the very casualty of which the Major
had been so nearly the victim, to be designed as affording her a
special opportunity of serving one whom she had not been taught
to recognize as a friend.”
“ Cool indeed,” thought the Major. “ Certainly very cool. I am
to be upset by Providence, my own and son’s neck perilled, only
to afford her an opportunity to play the good Samaritan. Very
cool, indeed!’ thought the Major, though he suppressed the very
natural comment. The self-complacency of the old lady now be
o’an to please him as a sort of study of character. But he spoke
again. She had referred to his bloody appearance, to bis groans
Unconsciously uttered. It was in something of the spirit of a cer
tain Frenchman, of famous memory, that he said, —
U Really, Ml'S. Girardin, when I was in that condition, I must
greatly have disquieted you by my groans and shocking appear
ance. lam afraid I made some horrible wry faces. Believe me,
my dear Madame, it was purely unintentional. Had I been con
scious of your presence, I certainly would have constrained myself.
I trust you did not construe my wry faces into any feeling of dis
approbation at your presence, or the kindly succour you were giving
me.”
“ No, sir; I thank God, who kept me from putting any such un-
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