Alice, or the Mysteries — Book 02

								

Evelyn opened the basket, and bade them with much gravity keep quiet, and
be good children, she was the happiest of the whole group.  But she knew
how to give pleasure: and the basket was presented to Cecilia, that the
little queen of the day might enjoy the luxury of being generous; and to
prevent jealousy, the notable expedient of a lottery was suggested.
"Then Evy shall be Fortune!" cried Cecilia; "nobody will be sorry to get
anything from Evy,--and if any one is discontented Evy sha'n't kiss her."
Mrs. Merton, whose motherly heart was completely won by Evelyn's kindness
to the children, forgot all her husband's lectures, and willingly
ticketed the prizes, and wrote the numbers of the lots on slips of paper
carefully folded.  A large old Indian jar was dragged from the
drawing-room and constituted the fated urn; the tickets were deposited
therein, and Cecilia was tying the handkerchief round Evelyn's
eyes,--while Fortune struggled archly not to be as blind as she ought to
be,--and the children, seated in a circle, were in full joy and
expectation when there was a sudden pause.  The laughter stopped; so did
Cissy's little hands.  What could it be?  Evelyn slipped the bandage, and
her eyes rested on Maltravers!
"Well, really, my dear Miss Cameron," said the rector, who was by the
side of the intruder, and who, indeed, had just brought him to the spot,
"I don't know what these little folks will do to you next."
"I ought rather to be their victim," said Maltravers, good-humouredly;
"the fairies always punish us grown-up mortals for trespassing on their
revels."
While he spoke, his eyes--those eyes, the most eloquent in the
world--dwelt on Evelyn (as, to cover her blushes, she took Cecilia in her
arms, and appeared to attend to nothing else) with a look of such
admiration and delight as a mortal might well be supposed to cast on some
beautiful fairy.
Sophy, a very bold child, ran up to him.  "How do, sir?" she lisped,
putting up her face to be kissed; "how's the pretty peacock?"
This opportune audacity served at once to renew the charm that had been
broken,--to unite the stranger with the children.  Here was acquaintance
claimed and allowed in an instant.  The next moment Maltravers was one of
the circle, on the turf with the rest, as gay, and almost as noisy,--that
hard, proud man, so disdainful of the trifles of the world!
"But the gentleman must have a prize, too," said Sophy, proud of her tall
new friend.  "What's your other name; why do you have such a long, hard
name?"
"Call me Ernest," said Maltravers.
"Why don't we begin?" cried the children.
"Evy, come, be a good child, miss," said Sophy, as Evelyn, vexed and
ashamed, and half ready to cry, resisted the bandage.
Mr. Merton interposed his authority; but the children clamoured, and
Evelyn hastily yielded.  It was Fortune's duty to draw the tickets from
the urn, and give them to each claimant whose name was called; when it