Part 10 (1/2)

”It's as nigh again as going round, ma'am,” said Lilac eagerly; ”and it's not to say difficult if you do it sideways.”

Mrs Leigh still hesitated. It was very steep; the smooth turf was slippery. There was not even a shrub or anything to cling to, and a slip would certainly end in an awkward tumble. At another time she would have turned from it with horror, but she looked at Lilac's upturned anxious face and was touched with pity.

”After all,” she said, grasping her umbrella courageously, ”if you can help me a little, perhaps it won't be so bad as it looks.”

So they started, hand in hand, Lilac a little in front carefully leading the way; but she was soon sorry that they had not gone round by the road. This was a short distance for herself, but it proved a long one now that she had Mrs Leigh with her. A slip, a stop, a slide, another stop--it was a very slow progress indeed. As they went jerking along the flowers fell off Lilac's dress one by one and left a white track behind her. She had taken off her crown and held it in her hand; its blossoms were drooping already, and its leaves folded up and limp. How short a time it was since they had been fresh and fair, and she had marched up the hill so bravely, full of delight. Now, poor little discrowned Queen, she was leaving her kingdom of mirth and laughter behind her with every step, and coming nearer to the shadowy valley where sadness waited. After many a sigh and gasp Mrs Leigh and her guide reached the bottom in safety. They were on comparatively level ground now, with gently sloping fields in front of them and the sharp shoulder of the hill rising at their back. There, within a stone's throw stood the Wis.h.i.+ngs' cottage, and a little farther on Lilac's own home. How quiet, how very still it all looked! Now and then there floated in the calm air a shout or a sudden burst of laughter from the distant merry-makers, but here, below, it was all utterly silent. The two little white cottages had no light in their windows, no smoke from their chimneys, no sign of life anywhere.

”Mother's let the fire out,” said Lilac.

Mrs Leigh came to a sudden standstill. ”Lilac,” she said, ”my poor child--”

Lilac looked up frightened and bewildered. Mrs Leigh's eyes were full of tears, and she could hardly speak. She took Lilac's hand in hers and held it tightly. ”My poor child,” she repeated.

”Oh, please, ma'am,” cried Lilac, ”let's be quick and go to Mother.

What ails her?”

”Nothing ails her,” said Mrs Leigh solemnly; ”nothing will ever ail her any more. You must be brave for her sake, and remember that she loves you still; but you will not hear her speak again on earth.”

The revels on the hill broke up sooner than usual that night, and those who had to pa.s.s the cottage on their way home trod softly and hushed their children's laughter. For ill news travels fast, and before nightfall there was no one who did not know that the Widow White was dead.

And thus Lilac's May-Day reign held in its short s.p.a.ce the greatest happiness and the greatest sorrow of her life. Joy and smiles and freshly-blooming flowers in the morning; sadness and tears and a withered crown at night.

CHAPTER SIX.

ALONE.

”The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear?”--_Proverbs_.

A few days after this Lilac sat on her little stool in her accustomed corner, listening in a dreamy way to the m.u.f.fled voices of Mrs Pinhorn and Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng. They spoke low, not because they did not wish her to hear, but because, having just come from her mother's funeral, they felt it befitted the occasion. As they talked they st.i.tched busily at some ”black” which they were helping her to make, only pausing now and then to glance round at her as though she were some strange animal, shake their heads, and sigh heavily. Lilac had not cried much since her mother's death, and was supposed by the neighbours to be taking it wonderful easy-like. For the twentieth time Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng was entering slowly and fully into every detail connected with it--of all the doctor had said of its having been caused by heart disease, of all she had said herself, of all Mr Leigh had said; and if she paused a moment Mrs Pinhorn at once asked another question. For it was Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng, who, running in as usual to borrow something, had found Mrs White on May morning sitting peacefully in her chair, quite dead.

”And it do strike so mournful,” she repeated, ”to think of the child junketing up on the hill, and May Queen an' all, an' that poor soul an alone.”

”It's a thing one doesn't rightly understand, that is,” said Mrs Pinhorn, ”why both Lilac's parents should have been took so sudden.”

She gave a sharp glance round the room--”I suppose,” she added, ”the Greenways'll have the sticks. There's a goodish few, and well kep'.

Mary White was always one for storing her things.”

”I never heard of no other kin,” said Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng.

”Lilac's lucky to get a home like Orchards Farm. But there! Some is born lucky.”

The conversation continued in the same strain until Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng discovered that she must go home and get Dan'l's supper ready.

”An' it's time I was starting too,” added Mrs Pinhorn. ”I've got a goodish bit to walk.”

They both looked hesitatingly at Lilac.

”You'll come alonger me and sleep, won't you, dearie?” said Mrs Wis.h.i.+ng coaxingly. ”It's lonesome for you here.”

But Lilac shook her head. ”I'd rather bide here, thank you,” was all she said; and after trying many forms of persuasion the two women left her unwillingly and took their way.