Orange Grove (Wall)/Chapter 35
"Those laughing orbs, that borrow
From azure skies the light they wear,
Are like heaven—no sorrow
Can float o'er hues so fair."
The merry month of May again came round, bearing in its bosom a merry gift for those stricken parents. Another daughter was born, not the counterpart of Lilly, but that was no matter. A baby had come to enliven the oppressive stillness of the house, which was never still afterwards, and therefore was thrice welcome. Full of life and motion she demanded as much attention as one little body could well lay claim to. She never folded her hands so meekly, you could almost fancy the bliss of heaven clasped there, as Lilly had been wont to do. From the time her eyes were open in the morning until they closed at night, was one gala-day of fun and frolic. Her merry laugh apprised every one of her approach, and her tireless activity and thoughtless love of mischief required constant amusement and watchfulness. At nine months of age she walked and then not a work-basket, trinket or anything else could be left within reach that did not suffer from her roguish fingers. When there is such a dominant love of fun it is almost impossible to keep a child out of mischief, not from a wanton love of it, but from an unconquerable desire to laugh at the effects of it. Her sunny temper was never ruffled by the vexatious queries so annoying to her mother's childhood. Having blue eyes and curly hair, she resembled her somewhat, yet not so—much as that picture of her father's which first arrested Walter's attention and opened the way for their acquaintance. She sometimes visited her father's studio, but only to misplace every thing she could lay her hands upon and add variety to his sketches after her own plan. The whole house was at her command and she reigned queen over them all, for no one could think of being impatient with the source of so much happiness. Mr. Livingston seemed quite like himself again, and Kate, who had been the impersonation of gravity since the death of Lilly, finding no words to express her grief, made the house ring with music as she kept time to the patter of childish glee. This was better fun than criticising Milly's novel, a theme already exhausted for her, and she seldom intruded into that sanctum now. Better also than settling the troubles of young house-keepers, or enumerating "Sykes" adventures. Such is the unconscious power of childhood.
"Will mother have a full blown rose this morning?" said Mr. Livingston as he brought her in crowned for the first time with a wreath of flowers as he had often crowned Lilly in her babyhood. Her rosy, dimpled cheeks and joyous laugh showed how fully and keenly she entered into the lively appreciation of every pleasure the physical world affords. Hear her now as she gives a jerk to free her hands from her father's clasp, who holds them the more tightly to prevent her from tearing the wreath from her head ere her mother sees it, which she very well understands. And when he does let go how quickly it falls crushed and mutilated at his feet; and then hear the ringing laugh! And the next moment she is out of his arms and out of sight, playing, "bopeep!" and ere he can catch her, away again.
Once while Kate had her in charge in the vicinity of Milly's room, the latter left the door ajar for a second as she stepped into the hall, which the little Rosie quickly perceived and bent thitherward her nimble feet. The next instant the inkstand was upset over a pile of manuscript. "Why Rosie, what won't you do next?" exclaimed Milly as the devastating sight met her eyes. Kate ran in to see what had happened and laughed as she remarked.
"A rather melancholy end for your novel to come to isn't it?"
On looking for the child she was not to be found up stairs or down. Kate at last espied her behind a large rocker in her grand-mother's chamber in a little niche that would just admit her, with eyes so wild and big as to be scarcely recognized, and curled up in the smallest possible space. She looked so comical that she ran to call Mr. Livingston, who had just entered. He could scarcely suppress a smile at the unwonted seriousness of that roguish little head which sought to retreat farther back, showing how keen a child's instinct is to comprehend that it has done something wrong, deserving of reproof, being then only a year and a half old. Reluctantly she left her place of refuge as he lifted her into his arms to visit the scene of her unlucky exploit. This was too much for that little bosom to contain, and he was obliged to give her to Kate to console, which she quickly did by proposing a game at "hide-and-seek!"
The little golden haired girl who made her first appearance at Mrs. Claremont's when Walter placed her in Rosalind's lap that Thanksgiving evening they visited her mother in her distress, had been adopted into the family at her mother's death which occurred shortly after Lilly was taken from them, and was now an interesting girl of twelve years. Her devotion to the child made her a most trusty caretaker, and being full of sunshine herself, the atmosphere about them was so merry there was no room for a cloud of sadness even to hover about those parents now, or if so, they felt it would be a sin not to dispel it at once, although never cherishing the feeling of security upon such a treasure they once did.