THE PORTER'S SON [5]
That was the French part of the garden; and from this part
the visitor came into what appeared like the green, fresh forest,
where the trees might grow as they chose, and accordingly they were
great and glorious. The grass was green, and beautiful to walk on, and
it was regularly cut, and rolled, and swept, and tended. That was
the English part of the garden.
"Old time and new time," said the Count, "here they run well
into one another. In two years the building itself will put on a
proper appearance, there will be a complete metamorphosis in beauty
and improvement. I shall show you the drawings, and I shall show you
the architect, for he is to dine here to-day."
"Charming!" said the General.
"'Tis like Paradise here," said the General's lady, "and yonder
you have a knight's castle!"
"That's my poultry-house," observed the Count. "The pigeons live
in the tower, the turkeys in the first floor, but old Elsie rules in
the ground floor. She has apartments on all sides of her. The
sitting hens have their own room, and the hens with chickens have
theirs; and the ducks have their own particular door leading to the
water."
"Charming!" repeated the General.
And all sailed forth to see these wonderful things. Old Elsie
stood in the room on the ground floor, and by her side stood Architect
George. He and Emily now met for the first time after several years,
and they met in the poultry-house.
Yes, there he stood, and was handsome enough to be looked at.
His face was frank and energetic; he had black shining hair, and a
smile about his mouth, which said, "I have a brownie that sits in my
ear, and knows every one of you, inside and out." Old Elsie had pulled
off her wooden shoes, and stood there in her stockings, to do honor to
the noble guests. The hens clucked, and the cocks crowed, and the
ducks waddled to and fro, and said, "Quack, quack!" But the fair, pale
girl, the friend of his childhood, the daughter of the General,
stood there with a rosy blush on her usually pale cheeks, and her eyes
opened wide, and her mouth seemed to speak without uttering a word,
and the greeting he received from her was the most beautiful
greeting a young man can desire from a young lady, if they are not
related, or have not danced many times together, and she and the
architect had never danced together.
The Count shook hands with him, and introduced him.
"He is not altogether a stranger, our young friend George."
The General's lady bowed to him, and the General's daughter was
very nearly giving him her hand; but she did not give it to him.
"Our little Master George!" said the General. "Old friends!
Charming!"
"You have become quite an Italian," said the General's lady,
"and I presume you speak the language like a native?"
"My wife sings the language, but she does not speak it,"
observed the General.
At dinner, George sat at the right hand of Emily, whom the General
had taken down, while the Count led in the General's lady.
Mr. George talked and told of his travels; and he could talk well,
and was the life and soul of the table, though the old Count could
have been it too. Emily sat silent, but she listened, and her eyes
gleamed, but she said nothing.
In the verandah, among the flowers, she and George stood together;
the rose-bushes concealed them. And George was speaking again, for
he took the lead now.
"Many thanks for the kind consideration you showed my old mother,"
he said. "I know that you went down to her on the night when my father
died, and you stayed with her till his eyes were closed. My
heartiest thanks!"
He took Emily's hand and kissed it- he might do so on such an
occasion. She blushed deeply, but pressed his hand, and looked at
him with her dear blue eyes.
"Your mother was a dear soul!" she said. "How fond she was of
her son! And she let me read all your letters, so that I almost
believe I know you. How kind you were to me when I was
the visitor came into what appeared like the green, fresh forest,
where the trees might grow as they chose, and accordingly they were
great and glorious. The grass was green, and beautiful to walk on, and
it was regularly cut, and rolled, and swept, and tended. That was
the English part of the garden.
"Old time and new time," said the Count, "here they run well
into one another. In two years the building itself will put on a
proper appearance, there will be a complete metamorphosis in beauty
and improvement. I shall show you the drawings, and I shall show you
the architect, for he is to dine here to-day."
"Charming!" said the General.
"'Tis like Paradise here," said the General's lady, "and yonder
you have a knight's castle!"
"That's my poultry-house," observed the Count. "The pigeons live
in the tower, the turkeys in the first floor, but old Elsie rules in
the ground floor. She has apartments on all sides of her. The
sitting hens have their own room, and the hens with chickens have
theirs; and the ducks have their own particular door leading to the
water."
"Charming!" repeated the General.
And all sailed forth to see these wonderful things. Old Elsie
stood in the room on the ground floor, and by her side stood Architect
George. He and Emily now met for the first time after several years,
and they met in the poultry-house.
Yes, there he stood, and was handsome enough to be looked at.
His face was frank and energetic; he had black shining hair, and a
smile about his mouth, which said, "I have a brownie that sits in my
ear, and knows every one of you, inside and out." Old Elsie had pulled
off her wooden shoes, and stood there in her stockings, to do honor to
the noble guests. The hens clucked, and the cocks crowed, and the
ducks waddled to and fro, and said, "Quack, quack!" But the fair, pale
girl, the friend of his childhood, the daughter of the General,
stood there with a rosy blush on her usually pale cheeks, and her eyes
opened wide, and her mouth seemed to speak without uttering a word,
and the greeting he received from her was the most beautiful
greeting a young man can desire from a young lady, if they are not
related, or have not danced many times together, and she and the
architect had never danced together.
The Count shook hands with him, and introduced him.
"He is not altogether a stranger, our young friend George."
The General's lady bowed to him, and the General's daughter was
very nearly giving him her hand; but she did not give it to him.
"Our little Master George!" said the General. "Old friends!
Charming!"
"You have become quite an Italian," said the General's lady,
"and I presume you speak the language like a native?"
"My wife sings the language, but she does not speak it,"
observed the General.
At dinner, George sat at the right hand of Emily, whom the General
had taken down, while the Count led in the General's lady.
Mr. George talked and told of his travels; and he could talk well,
and was the life and soul of the table, though the old Count could
have been it too. Emily sat silent, but she listened, and her eyes
gleamed, but she said nothing.
In the verandah, among the flowers, she and George stood together;
the rose-bushes concealed them. And George was speaking again, for
he took the lead now.
"Many thanks for the kind consideration you showed my old mother,"
he said. "I know that you went down to her on the night when my father
died, and you stayed with her till his eyes were closed. My
heartiest thanks!"
He took Emily's hand and kissed it- he might do so on such an
occasion. She blushed deeply, but pressed his hand, and looked at
him with her dear blue eyes.
"Your mother was a dear soul!" she said. "How fond she was of
her son! And she let me read all your letters, so that I almost
believe I know you. How kind you were to me when I was