Honor Bright: A Story for Girls by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

Author:Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards [Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-06T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

FAREWELL TO THE CHLET

At fourteen, conditions establish themselves quickly, and become—to the fourteen-year-old mind—permanent. Honor had been a short week at the Châlet des Rochers, and it seemed her home; Vevay, the Pension Madeleine, the girls, even dear Madame Madeleine and Soeur Séraphine, were like a dream. A pleasant dream—some day, she supposed, she must go back, for a time at least; she was not yet old enough or strong enough to be a sennerin of the Alps, she realized that. How surprised they would be when she told them—

To the outward eye, on this beautiful June morning, Honor appeared an extremely pretty, red-haired child in a blue dress, curled up comfortably in the barn doorway with bright musing eyes looking out over the mountains. In reality— her reality—she was a woman, tall, grave and beautiful, dressed in full Swiss costume, velvet bodice, embroidered apron, silver earrings and all the rest of it. She was receiving with dignified cordiality her former friends, the friends of her childhood: the Lady of Virelai with her lordly husband; Stephanie, Patricia and the rest; was answering their eager questions with simple grace and candor. Yes, she was happy, very, very happy. This was the life she had chosen. Gay cities had beckoned to her, throngs of knights and heroes bold had sighed to do her homage. “The mountains called me and I came. My brother Zitli and I dwell apart, in the sanctuary of Nature, at peace with all men!”

Then she would bid them be seated, and would bring them cream and honey and biscuits des Rochers, and they would marvel at the exquisite daintiness of all her surroundings; “the simplicity which is perfection!” as Soeur Séraphine said; at the calm majesty of her mien and carriage. Her magnificent hair was braided now, and hung in two heavy dark ropes—

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Honor! where art thou? Come, my child, and see who is here!”

Alas! the dignified sennerin vanished; not even a strand of her magnificent hair, not even a twinkle of her silver earrings remained. Only little Honor in her blue dress, her curly gold mane tossing about her shoulders, pulled herself up by the barn door, and limped across the green (no need of crutches now!) to meet—Fate, in the person of Margoton!

Not an unkindly Fate, it would appear. Margoton’s massive face was radiant, Margoton’s columnar arms were outstretched; she was altogether a pleasant figure in her neat Sunday dress, with the pink ribbon in her snowy cap.

“Ah, my little mademoiselle! Ah, but it is good to see thee again. We have missed thee—ah, for example! my faith, it seemed to us all a year that thou hast been away. Thou art all pale, little cherished one! Tiens! thou regardest me with great eyes, as if I were a wolf! How, then! Thou art not glad to see Margoton?”

“I—I was startled!” faltered Honor. “I—didn’t know—dear Margoton, forgive me! but—have you come—”

She could not say it. She could smile through her tears on the kind giantess, could press her hand in genuine affection, but she could not speak.

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