“I like far better to sit here quietly with you,” murmured the faithful little cavalier.
“Thank you, Lyle; still, they all look so merry, I almost wish some one had asked me to dance.”
“You dance, Miss Rothesay! What fun! Why nobody would ever dance with you,” cried rude Bob.
Lyle looked imploringly at his brother: “Hush! you naughty boy! Please, Miss Rothesay, I will dance with you at any time, that is, if you think I am tall enough.”
“Oh, quite; I am so small myself,” answered Olive, laughing; for she took quite a pride in patronising him, as girls of sixteen often affectionately patronise boys some five or six years their junior. “You know, you are to grow up to be my little husband.”
“Your husband!” repeated Bob, mischievously. “Don't be too sure of getting one at all. What do you think I overheard those girls there say? That you looked just like an old maid; and, indeed, no one would ever care to marry you, because you were”—
Here Lyle, blushing crimson, stopped his brother's mouth with his little hand; whereat Bob flew into such a passion, that he quite forgot Olive, and all he was about to say, in the excitement of a pugilistic combat with his unlucky cadet In the midst of which the two belligerents—poor, untaught, motherless lads—were hurried off to bed.
Their companionship lost, Olive was left very much to her own devices for amusement. Some few young people that she knew came and talked to her for a little while, but they all went back to their singing, dancing, or flirting; and Olive, who seemed to have no gift nor share in either, was left alone. She did not feel this much at first, being occupied in her thoughts and observations on the rest. She took great interest in noticing all around. Her warm heart throbbed in sympathy with many an idle, passing flirtation, which she in her simplicity mistook for a real “attachment.” It seemed as if every one loved, or was loved, except herself. She thought this, blushing as if it were unmaidenliness, when it was only nature speaking in her heart.
Poor Olive! perhaps it was ill for her that Sara's “love affair” had aroused prematurely these blind gropings after life's great mystery, so often
Too early seen unknown, and known too late.