Веснянки

           Suddenlyshegaveherselfanimpatientlittleshake,liftedhergloriouseyesfulltohis,andthesmilethatswepthersweet,youngfacewastheloveliestthingthatFreckleseverhadseen.

           “Don’tlet’sbotheraboutit,”sheproposed,withthefaintesthintofaconfidinggesturetowardhim.“Itwon’tmakeascar.Why,itcouldn’t,whenyouhavedresseditsonicely.”

           ThevelvetytouchofherwarmarmwastinglinginFreckles’fingertips.Daintylaceandfinewhiteribbonpeepedthroughhertorndress.Therewerebeautifulringsonherfingers.Everyarticlesheworewasofthefinestmaterialandinexcellenttaste.TherewasthetremblingLimberlostguardinhiscoarseclothing,withhiscottonragsandhisoldpailofswampwater.Freckleswassufficientlyaccustomedtocontraststonoticethem,andsufficientlyfinetobehurtbythemalways.

           Heliftedhiseyeswithashadowypaininthemtohers,andfoundthemofserene,unconsciouspurity.Whatshehadsaidwasstraightfromakind,untainted,youngheart.Shemeanteverywordofit.Freckles’soulsickened.Hescarcelyknewwhetherhecouldmusterstrengthtostand.

           “Wemustgoandhuntforthecarriage,”saidtheAngel,rising.

           Ininstantalarmforher,Frecklessprangup,graspedthecudgel,andledtheway,sharplywatchingeverystep.Hewentasclosethelogashefeltthathedared,andwithalittlesearchingfoundthecarriage.HeclearedapathfortheAngel,andwithasighofreliefsawherenteritsafely.Theheatwasintense.Shepushedthedamphairfromhertemples.

           “Thisisashame!”saidFreckles.