But the child paused. Why introduce Nello? who was not visible, to the knowledge of this uncertain person? who, if she was a fairy, might be a wicked one, or, if she was a woman, might be unkind, for anything Lilias knew. She stopped short nervously, and it was evident that the old woman had not taken any notice of the name.
“Little Miss, your mamma would be sorry to send you away?”
“It was papa,” said the little girl, with wondering eyes. “Poor mamma;—I was quite little when—it was when Nello was a little, little small baby. Now we have nobody but papa.”
The old woman staggered and almost fell, but supported herself by her stick for a moment, while Lilias uttered a scream of terror; then sat down with a groan upon a fallen tree. “It’s nothing new, nothing new,” she said to herself; “I felt it long ago,” and covered her face with her hands, with once more a heavy groan. Little Lilias did not know what to do. She had screamed when the old woman staggered, not knowing what was going to happen; but what was she to do now, alone with this strange companion, seated there on the fallen trunk and rocking herself to and fro, with her face hidden in her hands. It did not occur to the child to associate this sudden trouble with the information she had herself given. What could this stranger have to do with her? And poor mamma had receded far into the background of Lilias’s memory, not even now an occasion of tears. She did not, however, need to go into this reasoning, but simply supposed that the poor old fairy was ill, or that something had happened to her, and never at all connected effect and cause. She stood for a little time irresolute, then, overcoming her own fears, went up to the sufferer and stroked her compassionately on the shoulder. “Are you ill, old woman?” she said.
“Oh, call me Granny—call me Granny, my pretty dear!”
Lilias was more puzzled than ever; but she made up her mind that she would do whatever was asked of her by this disguised personage, who might turn into—anything, in a moment. “Yes, Granny,” she said, trembling, and still stroking the old woman’s shoulder. “I hope you are not ill.”
The answer she made to this was suddenly to clasp her arms round Lilias, who could scarcely suppress a cry of horror. What a strange—what a very strange old woman! Fortunately Lilias, brought up in a country where servants are friends, had no feeling of repulsion from the embrace. She was a little frightened, and did not understand it—that was all. The old woman’s breast heaved with great sobs; there could be no doubt that she was very deeply, strongly moved. She was “very sorry about something,” according to Lilias’ simple explanation. She clasped the child close, and kissed her with a tearful face, which left traces of its weeping upon the fresh cheeks. The little girl wiped them off, wondering. How could she tell why this was? Perhaps it was only to try her if she was the kind of little girl who was uncivil, or not; but she did not indeed try to account for it. It was not very pleasant, but she put up with it, partly in fear, partly in sympathy, partly because, as we have said, she had no horror of the too near approach of a poor old woman, as an English-bred child might have had. Poor old creature, how sorry she was about something! though Lilias could not imagine what it was.
“God bless you, honeysweet,” said the old woman. “You’ve got her dear face, my jewel. It isn’t that I didn’t know it years and years ago. I was told it in my sleep; I read it in the clouds and on the water. Oh, if you think I wasn’t warned! But you’ve got her bonnie face. You’ll be a beauty, a darling beauty, like the rest of us. And look you here, little Miss, my jewel. If you see me when the gentry’s with you you’ll take no notice; but if you see me by myself you’ll give me a kiss and call me Granny. That’s fixed between us, honey, and you won’t forget? Call me Granny again, to give me a little comfort, my pretty dear.”
“Yes, Granny,” said the child, trembling. The old woman kissed her again, drying her tears.
“God bless you, and God bless you!” she said. “You can’t be none the worse of your old Granny’s blessing. And mind, if you’re with the gentlefolks you’ll take no notice. Oh, my honeysweet, my darling child!”