Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter. A Forest Romance

								

speculations in pine-lands and lumber, merchandise, etc. He was doing
well, was getting rich in seven-league strides, had married a pretty
western girl, was happy, had gone to housekeeping, wanted a partner in
business as well as domestic affairs--recommended Philip to accept the
chance--a few thousand dollars would be all the capital required.
Philip had seven thousand dollars in stocks; he sold out, shook off the
dust from his feet as he left the great metropolis, and answered his
friend's letter in person, in less than a fortnight.
Virginia Moore missed the convenient escort, the constant attentions,
and the profound worship of her high-hearted cousin; but a rich
Spaniard, ugly and old, was come into the market, and she was among
the bidders. Let us leave Virginia Moore, and return to that western
wilderness, where a certain little girl looks lovelier, in her
blue-gingham dress and wild-flower wreath, than the other in all the
family diamonds.

CHAPTER IV.
BEN PERKINS.

The day after her father's return, Alice Wilde sat down to try her new
thimble in running up the skirt of her merino dress. The frock which
she wore, and all her others, probably, were fashioned in the style of
twenty years ago--short under the arms; a belt at the waist; low in
the neck; full, puffed, short sleeves; narrow skirt, and no crinoline.
Her profuse hair, when it was not allowed to fall in a golden torrent
around her neck, was looped up in the quaint style which marked the
fashion of her dress. She looked like the portrait, come to life, of
some republican belle and beauty of long ago. Quite unconscious that
this ancient style had been superseded by the balloons of to-day, she
measured off the three short breadths which, when hemmed, would leave
her pretty ankles exposed, even as they now, with the slippered feet,
peeped from beneath her gingham.
If Philip Moore had understood the mantua-maker's art, and had
possessed "patterns" of the latest mode, he would not have instructed
his hostess in any changes, she looked so picturesque and quaint as
she was. But he did not let her sew very steadily that day. He wanted
to explore the surroundings of the cabin, and she was his ready,
intelligent guide.
They went back into the forest, through which thundered, ever and anon,
the crash of a falling tree; for many men were busy cutting timber for
another raft, on which, at its completion, Philip was to return to
Center City. His business would not have detained him more than three
or four days, but he was in no haste; he wanted to hunt and fish a
little, and he liked the novelty of the idea of floating down the river
on a raft of logs in company with a score of rough fellows. Although
David Wilde sawed up some of his timber himself, his old-fashioned mill
was not equal to the supply, and he sent the surplus down to the steam
saw-mills, one of which was owned by Philip and his partner.