CHAPTER III.
L'ARGENTVILLE.
Miss Belinda sat, looking at her niece, with a sense of being at oncestunned and fascinated. To see a creature so young, so pretty, soluxuriously splendid, and at the same time so simply and completely atease with herself and her surroundings, was a revelation quite beyond hercomprehension. The best-bred and nicest girls Slowbridge could producewere apt to look a trifle conscious and timid when they found themselvesattired in the white muslin and floral decorations; but this slendercreature sat in her gorgeous attire, her train flowing over the modestcarpet, her rings flashing, her ear-pendants twinkling, apparentlyentirely oblivious of, or indifferent to, the fact that all herbelongings were sufficiently out of place to be startling beyond measure.
Her chief characteristic, however, seemed to be her excessive frankness.She did not hesitate at all to make the most remarkable statementsconcerning her own and her father's past career. She made them, too, asif there was nothing unusual about them. Twice, in her childhood, aluckless speculation had left her father penniless; and once he had takenher to a Californian gold-diggers' camp, where she had been the onlyfemale member of the somewhat reckless community.
"But they were pretty good-natured, and made a pet of me," she said;"and we did not stay very long. Father had a stroke of luck, and wewent away. I was sorry when we had to go, and so were the men. They mademe a present of a set of jewelry made out of the gold they had gotthemselves. There is a breastpin like a breastplate, and a necklace likea dog-collar: the bracelets tire my arms, and the ear-rings pull my ears;but I wear them sometimes--gold girdle and all."
"Did I," inquired Miss Belinda timidly, "did I understand you to say, mydear, that your father's business was in some way connected withsilver-mining?"
"It _is_ silver-mining," was the response. "He owns some mines, youknow"--
"Owns?" said Miss Belinda, much fluttered; "owns some silver-mines? Hemust be a very rich man,--a very rich man. I declare, it quite takes mybreath away."
"Oh! he is rich," said Octavia; "awfully rich sometimes. And then againhe isn't. Shares go up, you know; and then they go down, and you don'tseem to have any thing. But father generally comes out right, because heis lucky, and knows how to manage."
"But--but how uncertain!" gasped Miss Belinda: "I should be perfectlymiserable. Poor, dear Mar"--
"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said Octavia: "you'd get used to it, and wouldn'tmind much, particularly if you were lucky as father is. There is everything in being lucky, and knowing how to manage. When we first went toBloody Gulch"--
"My dear!" cried Miss Belinda, aghast. "I--I beg of you"--
Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss Belinda in bewilderment, as shehad done several times before.
"Is any thing the matter?" she inquired placidly.
"My dear love," explained Miss Belinda innocently, determined at least todo her duty, "it is not customary in--in Slowbridge,--in fact, I think Imay say in England,--to use such--such exceedingly--I don't want to woundyour feelings, my dear,--but such exceedingly strong expressions! Irefer, my dear, to the one which began with a B. It is really consideredprofane, as well as dreadful beyond measure."
"'The one which began with a B,'" repeated Octavia, still staring at her."That is the name of a place; but I didn't name it, you know. It wascalled that, in the first place, because a party of men were surprisedand murdered there, while they were asleep in their camp at night. Itisn't a very nice name, of course, but I'm not responsible for it; andbesides, now the place is growing, they are going to call it Athens orMagnolia Vale. They tried L'Argentville for a while; but people wouldcall it Lodginville, and nobody liked it."
"I trust you never lived there," said Miss Belinda. "I beg your pardonfor being so horrified, but I really could not refrain from starting whenyou spoke; and I cannot help hoping you never lived there."
"I live there now, when I am at home," Octavia replied. "The mines arethere; and father has built a house, and had the furniture brought onfrom New York."
Miss Belinda tried not to shudder, but almost failed.
"Won't you take another muffin, my love?" she said, with a sigh. "Do takeanother muffin."
"No, thank you," answered Octavia; and it must be confessed that shelooked a little bored, as she leaned back in her chair, and glanced downat the train of her dress. It seemed to her that her simplest statementor remark created a sensation.
Having at last risen from the tea-table, she wandered to the window, andstood there, looking out at Miss Belinda's flower-garden. It was quite apretty flower-garden, and a good-sized one considering the dimensions ofthe house. There were an oval grass-plot, divers gravel paths, heart anddiamond shaped beds aglow with brilliant annuals, a great manyrose-bushes, several laburnums and lilacs, and a trim hedge of hollysurrounding it.
"I think I should like to go out and walk around there," remarkedOctavia, smothering a little yawn behind her hand. "Suppose we go--if youdon't care."
"Certainly, my dear," assented Miss Belinda. "But perhaps," with adelicately dubious glance at her attire, "you would like to make somelittle alteration in your dress--to put something a little--dark overit."
Octavia glanced down also.
"Oh, no!" she replied: "it will do well enough. I will throw a scarf overmy head, though; not because I need it," unblushingly, "but because Ihave a lace one that is very becoming."
She went up to her room for the article in question, and in three minuteswas down again. When she first caught sight of her, Miss Belinda foundherself obliged to clear her throat quite suddenly. What Slowbridge wouldthink of seeing such a toilet in her front garden, upon an ordinaryoccasion, she could not imagine. The scarf truly was becoming. It was along affair of rich white lace, and was thrown over the girl's head,wound around her throat, and the ends tossed over her shoulders, with themost picturesque air of carelessness in the world.
"You look quite like a bride, my dear Octavia," said Miss Belinda. "Weare scarcely used to such things in Slowbridge."
But Octavia only laughed a little.
"I am going to get some pink roses, and fasten the ends with them, whenwe get into the garden," she said.
She stopped for this purpose at the first rose-bush they reached. Shegathered half a dozen slender-stemmed, heavy-headed buds, and, havingfastened the lace with some, was carelessly placing the rest at herwaist, when Miss Belinda started violently.
A Fair Barbarian Page 3
