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T
a rainy English summer。 No rain had fallen for the last
three or four days； and the weather was perfect for that time of the
year： there was less dust than usual on the dark…green hedge…rows
and on the wild camomile that starred the roadside； yet the grass
was dry enough for the little children to roll on it； and there was
no cloud but a long dash of light； downy ripple； high； high up in
the far…off blue sky。 Perfect weather for an outdoor July merry…
making； yet surely not the best time of year to be born in。 Nature
seems to make a hot pause just then： all the loveliest flowers are
gone； the sweet time of early growth and vague hopes is past； and
yet the time of harvest and ingathering is not come； and we
tremble at the possible storms that may ruin the precious fruit in
the moment of its ripeness。 The woods are all one dark
monotonous green； the waggon…loads of hay no longer creep along
the lanes； scattering their sweet…smelling fragments on the
blackberry branches； the pastures are often a little tanned； yet the
corn has not got its last splendour of red and gold； the lambs and
calves have lost all traces of their innocent frisky prettiness； and
have become stupid young sheep and cows。 But it is a time of
leisure on the farm—that pause between hay and corn…harvest；
and so the farmers and labourers in Hayslope and Broxton
thought the captain did well to come of age just then； when they
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could give their undivided minds to the flavour of the great cask of
ale which had been brewed the autumn after “the heir” was born；
and was to be tapped on his twenty…first birthday。 The air had
been merry with the ringing of church…bells very early this
morning； and every one had made haste to get through the needful
work before twelve； when it would be time to think of getting
ready to go to the Chase。
The midday sun was streaming into Hetty’s bedchamber； and
there was no blind to temper the heat with which it fell on her
head as she looked at herself in the old specked glass。 Still； that
was the only glass she had in which she could see her neck and
arms； for the small hanging glass she had fetched out of the next
room—the room that had been Dinah’s—would show her nothing
below her little chin； and that beautiful bit of neck where the
roundness of her cheek melted into another roundness shadowed
by dark delicate curls。 And to…day she thought more than usual
about her neck and arms； for at the dance this evening she was not
to wear any neckerchief； and she had been busy yesterday with
her spotted pink…and…white frock； that she might make the sleeves
either long or short at will。 She was dressed now just as she was to
be in the evening； with a tucker made of “real” lace； which her
aunt had lent her for this unparalleled occasion； but with no
ornaments besides； she had even taken out her small round ear…
rings which she wore every day。 But there was something more to
be done； apparently； before she put on her neckerchief and long
sleeves； which she was to wear in the day…time； for now she
unlocked the drawer that held her private treasures。 It is more
than a month since we saw her unlock that drawer before； and
now it holds new treasures； so much more precious than the old
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ones that these are thrust into the corner。 Hetty would not care to
put the large coloured glass ear…rings into her ears now； for see！
she has got a beautiful pair of gold and pearls and garnet； lying
snugly in a pretty little box lined with white satin。 Oh； the delight
of taking out that little box and looking at the ear…rings！ Do not
reason about it； my philosophical reader； and say that Hetty； being
very pretty； must have known that it did not signify whether she
had on any ornaments or not； and that； moreover； to look at ear…
rings which she could not possibly wear out of her bedroom could
hardly be a satisfaction； the essence of vanity being a reference to
the impressions produced on others； you will never understand
women’s natures if you are so excessively rational。 Try rather to
divest yourself of all your rational prejudices； as much as if you
were studying the psychology of a canary bird； and only watch the
movements of this pretty round creature as she turns her head on
one side with an unconscious smile at the ear…rings nestled in the
little box。 Ah； you think； it is for the sake of the person who has
given them to her； and her thoughts are gone back now to the
moment when they were put into her hands。 No； else why should
she have cared to have ear…rings rather than anything else？ And I
know that she had longed for ear…rings from among all the
ornaments she could imagine。
“Little； little ears！” Arthur had said； pretending to pinch them
one evening； as Hetty sat beside him on the grass without her hat。
“I wish I had some pretty ear…rings！” she said in a moment； almost
before she knew what she was saying—the wish lay so close to her
lips； it would flutter past them at the slightest breath。 And the next
day—it was only last week—Arthur had ridden over to Rosseter on
purpose to buy them。 That little wish so naively uttered seemed to
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him the prettiest bit of childishness； he had never heard anything
like it before； and he had wrapped the box up in a great many
covers； that he might see Hetty unwrapping it with growing
curiosity； till at last her eyes flashed back their new delight into
his。
No； she was not thinking most of the giver whe