midnight
Another year , with all its light , and joy , and beauty , slowly waned away , and had itself decently entombed beneath the thick , soft bed of yellow leaves , with nothing to disturb it but the rabbit 's tread , or forest cries , or hoof-strokes of the deer . That year had added life and beauty to the face and form of Redbud , making her a woman-child -- before she was but a child ; and the fine light now in her tender eyes , was a light of thought and mind , the mature radiance of opening intellect , instead of the careless , thoughtless life of childhood . She had become suddenly much older , the Squire said , since going to the Bower of Nature even ; and as she lay now on her couch , fronting the dying autumn , the year which whispered faintly even now of its bright coming in the Spring , promised to make her a `` young lady ! '' And as Redbud lay thus , smiling and thinking , who should run in , with laughing eyes and brilliant countenance , and black curls , rippling like a midnight stream , but our young friend , Miss Fanny . Fanny , joyous as a lark -- and merrier still at seeing Redbud `` down stairs '' again -- overflowing , indeed , with mirth and laughter , like a morn of Spring , and making old Caesar , dozing on the rug , rise up and whine . Fanny kissed Redbud enthusiastically , which ceremony , as everybody knows , is , with young ladies , exactly equivalent to shaking hands among the men ; and often indicates as little real good-feeling slanderous tongues have whispered . No one , however , could have imagined that there was any affectation in Fanny 's warm kiss .