"Well, gracious!" was Miss Jerusha's e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, as she watched the graceful form flitting airily hither and thither, like an embodied sunbeam, "if that gal ain't got as many streaks as a tulip! What will be the next, I wonder?"

All tea-time Georgia was another being; and when it was over, instead of going straight to her room, as was her fashion, she took some needle-work that Miss Jerusha could not sew on after candle-light, and sat down to work and talk, while Miss Jerusha sat at her work, still digesting her astonishment, and not quite certain whether she had not gone out of her mind.

The clock struck nine. Miss Jerusha, who, from time immemorial, had made it a point of conscience never to sit up a moment later, began folding up her work. Georgia, who was standing with her elbow resting on the mantelpiece, her forehead dropped upon it, and her luminous eyes filled with a deep joy too intense for smiles, fixed on the green boughs on the hearth, now came over, and, to the great surprise of the venerable spinster, knelt down before her, and put her arms caressingly around her waist.

"Miss Jerusha," she said, softly, lifting her dark, beautiful eyes to her wrinkled face.

"Well, Georgey," said Miss Jerusha, in a subdued tone of wonder.

"It is nearly six years since you first took me here to live, is it not?" she asked.

"Nearly six yes," said Miss Jerusha.

"And since then I have been a very wild, wayward, disobedient girl; repaying all your kindness with ingrat.i.tude, have I not?"

"Why, Georgey!"

"I have been pa.s.sionate, stubborn, and willful; saucy, impertinent, and ungrateful; I know I have, I feel it now. You were very good to take the poor little orphan girl, who might have starved but for you, and this was your reward. Oh, Miss Jerusha! dear, best friend that ever was in this world, can you ever forgive me?"

"Oh, Georgey!" said Miss Jerusha, fairly sobbing.

"I am sorry for what I have done; say you forgive me, Miss Jerusha,"

said Georgey, sweetly.

"Oh, Georgey! my dear little Georgey, I _do_ forgive you," and, quite melted, Miss Jerusha sobbed outright.

"Dear Miss Jerusha, how I thank you. Lay your hand on my head and say 'Heaven bless you!' I have no mother nor father to bless me now."

"May the Lord in Heaven bless thee, Georgey!" and Miss Jerusha's hand, trembling with unwonted emotion, fell on the young head bent so meekly now, and two bright drops fell shining there, too.

Georgia's beautiful arms encircled her neck, and her lips touched those of her old friend for the _first time_, and then she was gone. And Miss Jerusha found that there was something new under the sun.

But Miss Jerusha discovered, when the morning dawned, that still another surprise awaited her.

CHAPTER XII.

RICHMOND HOUSE GETS A MISTRESS.

"Bride, upon thy wedding day Did the fluttering of thy breath Speak of joy or woe beneath?

And the hue that went and came On thy cheek, like lines of flame, Flowed its crimson from the unrest Or the gladness of thy breast?"

Breakfast was over. Georgia, blushing and smiling beneath Miss Jerusha's curious scrutiny, had gone back to her room, and Miss Jerusha, sitting in her low rocking-chair, was left alone with the bright morning sunshine that lay in broad patches on the floor to the special delectation of Mrs. and Miss Betsey Periwinkle.

Miss Jerusha was thinking of a good many things in general, but Georgia's unaccountable freaks in particular, when a well-known step sounded on the threshold, and the tall, stately form of Richmond Wildair stood before her.

Miss Jerusha was always pleased to have the rich young squire visit her, because it added to her importance in the eyes of the villagers; so she got up with a brisk, delighted "how d'ye do," and placed a chair for her visitor.

"All alone, Miss Jerusha?" said Mr. Wildair, taking up Betsey Periwinkle the second, who came purring politely around him, and stroking her mottled coat.

"Wall, not exactly," said Miss Jerusha. "Georgia's up stairs, for a wonder. I'll call her down, if you like."

"No--never mind," said Mr. Wildair. "Miss Georgia doesn't always seem so glad to see me that she should be disturbed now on my account."

"Wall, Mr. Wildair, Georgey's _queer_; there's never no tellin' what she'll do; if you 'spect her to do one thing you may be pretty certain she'll do 'xactly t'other. Now, yesterday afternoon she went out as glum as a porkypine"--Miss Jerusha's ideas of porcupines were rather vague--"and, bless my stars! if she didn't come in a smilin' like a basket of chips. My 'pinion is," said Miss Jerusha, firmly, "that something's come to her; you needn't believe it if you don't like too, but _I_ do."

A smile full of curious meaning broke over Mr. Wildair's face.

"On the contrary, my dear madam, I _do_ believe it most firmly. Not only do I _think_ something came to her yesterday, but I _know_ it from positive observation."

"Hey?" said Miss Jerusha, looking up sharply.

Mr. Wildair put down little Betsey Periwinkle, got up, and leaning his arm on the mantel, with that same strange smile on his face, stood looking down on Miss Jerusha.

"What is it?" asked the old lady, with a puzzled look answering that smile, as if he had spoken.

"My dear Miss Jerusha, I have a favor to ask of you this morning, a _great_ favor, a _very_ great favor, indeed," he said, with a light she had never seen before in his handsome eyes.

"Wall," said Miss Jerusha, looking most delightfully perplexed, "what is it?"

"I want you to give me something."

"You do! Why, my gracious! I ain't got nothing to give you."

"Yes, you have; a treasure beyond all price."

"Good gracious! where?" said Miss Jerusha, gazing round with a bewildered look.

"I mean--_Georgia_."

"Hey!"

Richmond laughed. Miss Jerusha had jumped as if she had suddenly sat down on an upturned tack.

"Miss Jerusha, Richmond House wants a mistress, and _I_ want Miss Georgia Darrell to be that mistress."

"Oh, my gracious!" cried the overwhelmed Miss Jerusha, sinking back in her chair.

"You have no objections, I hope, my dear madam."

"Oh, my gracious! _did_ you ever?" exclaimed Miss Jerusha, appealing to society at large. "Marry my Georgey! My-y-y conscience alive!"

Richmond stood smilingly before her, running his fingers through his glossy dark hair, waiting for her astonishment to evaporate.

"You ain't in airnest, now," said Miss Jerusba, resting her chin on her hand and peering up in his face with a look of mingled incredulity and delight, as the faded vision of the brown silk, and the new straw bonnet began again to loom up in the distance.