But to return to Peg, for whose benefit I have indulged in the foregoing rather spiteful digression, in order that she might have time to recover herself; or rather, I should say, to be thoroughly conscious of the extent of her unhappiness. Remember, 'tis her first grief, so pardon its intensity. Phantoms of crutches and of wooden legs came crowding on her imagination, contrasting themselves with the curious agility with which poor Mark had "_beat the floor_" in the merry jig, until he made it echo to every note of the pipes. Then rose up vague spectres of sanguinary-minded surgeons, with strange butcherly instruments; then she saw nothing but fragmentary Marks, unattached legs, a whole room-full dancing by themselves; there they were, twisting and twirling about, in the various difficult complications of the "toe and heel," "double shuffle," "ladies' delight," and "cover the buckle;" she shut her eyes in horror, and was sensible of nothing but a gloomy blood-red. There's no knowing to what lengths her terrible fancies might have gone, had they not been dispersed like wreaths of vapor by a hearty laugh from the mischievous Bridget. Peggy opened her eyes in astonishment. Was she awake? Yes, there was her cousin enjoying one of the broadest, merriest, wickedest laughs that ever mantled over the face of an arch little female.
"Poor Mark!" she cried, and then burst forth again into ringing laughter, which dimpled her crimson cheeks like--what shall I say?--like a fine healthy-looking cork-red potatoe, an Irish simile, I must say; but had we seen Bridget, and were acquainted with the features of the aforesaid esculent, I'm pretty certain you would acknowledge its aptness.
"What in the name of gracious are you laughing at?" exclaimed Peggy, a gleam of hope breaking on the darkness of her thought.
"Why, that you should take on so, when I told you Mark had broken his leg," gaily replied Bridget.
"Not half as much as your poor little heart would have been broken if he had," said the tormentor.
"Bridget! Cousin!" said poor Peg, now enduring much more pain from the sudden revulsion of feeling, "you should not have done this; you have crowded a whole life-time of agony in those few moments past."