This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: White Lilac; or the Queen of the May
Author: Amy Walton
Release Date: April 27, 2007 [EBook #21228]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE LILAC ***

Mrs James White stood at her cottage door casting anxious glances up at the sky, and down the hill towards
the village. If it were fine the rector\ue000s wife had promised to come and see the baby, \ue001and certainly,\ue002 thought
Mrs White, shading her eyes with her hand, \ue003you might call it fine\ue004for April.\ue005 There were sharp showers
now and then, to be sure, but the sun shone between whiles, and sudden rays darted through her little window
strong enough to light up the whole room. Their searching glances disclosed nothing she was ashamed of, for

they showed that the kitchen was neat and well ordered, with bits of good substantial furniture in it, such as a
long-bodied clock, table, and dresser of dark oak. These polished surfaces smiled back again cheerfully as the
light touched them, and the row of pewter plates on the high mantelshelf glistened so brightly that they were
as good as so many little mirrors. But beside these useful objects the sunlight found out two other things in the
room, at which it pointed its bright finger with special interest. One of these was a large bunch of pure white
lilac which stood on the window sill in a brown mug, and the other was a wicker cradle in which lay
something very much covered up in blankets. After a last lingering look down the hill, where no one was in
sight, Mrs White shut her door and settled herself to work, with the lilac at her elbow, and the cradle at her
foot. She rocked this gently while she sewed, and turned her head now and then, when her needle wanted
threading, to smell the delicate fragrance of the flowers. Her face was grave, with a patient and rather sad
expression, as though her memories were not all happy ones; but by degrees, as she sat there working and
rocking, some pleasant thought brought a smile to her lips and softened her eyes. This became so absorbing
that presently she did not see a figure pass the window, and when a knock at the door followed, she sprang up
startled to open it for her expected visitor.

It was not want of cordiality but want of breath which caused a beaming smile to be the only reply to this
welcome. The hill was steep, the day was mild, and Mrs Leigh was rather stout. She at once dropped with a
sigh of relief, but still smiling, into a chair, and cast a glance full of interest at the cradle, which Mrs White
understood as well as words. Bending over it she peeped cautiously in amongst the folds of flannel.

Mrs Leigh had now recovered her power of speech. \ue014Don\ue015t disturb her for the world,\ue016 she said, \ue017I\ue018m not going
away yet. I shall be glad to rest a little. She\ue019ll wake presently, I dare say. What is it,\ue01a she continued, looking
round the room, \ue01bthat smells so delicious? Oh, what lovely lilac!” as her eye rested on the flowers in
the window.

“I always liked the laylocks myself, ma’am,” she said, “partic’ler the
white ones. It were a common bush in the part I lived as a gal, but there’s not much
hereabouts.”

“Why, no more there is,” said Mrs White with a half-ashamed smile; “but Jem, he
knows I’m a bit silly over them, and he got ’em at Cuddingham t’other day. You see,
the day I said I’d marry him he gave me a bunch of white laylocks—and that’s ten years
ago. Sitting still so much more than I’m used lately, with the baby, puts all sorts of foolishness into my
head, and when you knocked just now it gave me quite a start, for the smell of the laylocks took me right back
to the days when we were sweetheartin’.”

There was a stir amongst the blankets in the cradle just then, and presently a little cry. The baby wasawake.
Very soon she was in Mrs Leigh’s arms, who examined the tiny face with great interest, while the
mother stood by, silent, but eager for the first expression of admiration.

“Everyone says that as sees her,” said Mrs White with quiet triumph. “She features my mother’s family—they all had such wonderful white skins. But,” anxiously, “you don’t think she looks weakly, do you, ma’am?”

“Oh, no,” answered Mrs Leigh in rather a doubtful tone. She stood up and weighed the child in her arms, moving nearer the window. “She’s a little thing, but I dare say she’s not the less strong for that.”

“It makes me naturally a bit fearsome over her,” said Mrs White; “for, as you know,
ma’am, I’ve buried three children since we’ve bin here. Ne’er a one of
’em all left me. It seems when I look at this little un as how Imust keep her. I don’t seem as if I

“Oh, she’ll grow up and be a comfort to you, I don’t doubt,” said Mrs Leigh
cheerfully. “Fair-complexioned children are very often wonderfully healthy and strong. But
really,” she continued, looking closely at the baby’s face, “I never saw such a skin in my
life. Why, she’s as white as milk, or snow, or a lily, or—” She paused for a comparison,
and suddenly added, as her eye fell on the flowers, “or that bunch of lilac.”

“And if I were you,” continued Mrs Leigh, her good-natured face beaming all over with a happy idea, “I should call her ‘Lilac’. That would be a beautiful name for her. Lilac White. Nothing could be better; it seems made for her.”

it, ma’am?”
“Well, it would make it one if you had her christened so, you see.”
“I was thinking of making so bold as to call her ‘Annie’, and to ask you to stand for her,

“And so I will, with pleasure. But don’t call her Annie; we’ve got so many Annies in the
parish already it’s quite confusing—and so many Whites too. We should have to say
‘Annie White on the hill’ every time we spoke of her. I’m always mixing them up as it
is.Don’t call her Annie, Mrs White, Lilac’s far better. Ask your husband what he thinks of
it.”