Bildungsromans; Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Saint Lawrence River -- Fiction; Upper class -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
should he not strike hands with it for the brief half-day that he was to
continue in these people's society? In the morning he would part from
them forever, and in the mean time why should he not try to please and
be pleased? There might, to be sure, have been many reasons why he
should not do this; but however the balance stood he now yielded himself
passively to his fate. He was polite to Mrs. Ellison, he was attentive
to Kitty, and as far as he could he entered into the fantastic spirit of
her talk with the colonel. He was not a dull man; he had quite an apt
wit of his own, and a neat way of saying things; but humor always seemed
to him something not perfectly well bred; of course he helped to praise
it in some old-established diner-out, or some woman of good fashion,
whose _mots_ it was customary to repeat, and he even tolerated it in
books; but he was at a loss with these people, who looked at life in so
bizarre a temper, yet without airiness or pretension, nay, with a
whimsical readiness to acknowledge kindred in every droll or laughable
thing.
The boat stopped at Tadoussac on her return, and among the spectators
who came down to the landing was a certain very pretty,
conscious-looking, silly, bridal-faced young woman,--imaginably the
belle of the season at that forlorn watering-place,--who before coming
on board stood awhile attended by a following of those elderly imperial
and colonial British who heavily flutter round the fair at such resorts.
She had an air of utterly satisfied vanity, in which there was no harm
in the world, and when she saw that she had fixed the eyes of the
shoreward-gazing passengers, it appeared as if she fell into a happy
trepidation too blissful to be passively borne; she moistened her pretty
red lips with her tongue, she twitched her mantle, she settled the bow
at her lovely throat, she bridled and tossed her graceful head.
"What should you do next, Kitty?" asked the colonel, who had been
sympathetically intent upon all this.
"O, I think I should pat my foot," answered Kitty; and in fact the
charming simpleton on shore, having perfected her attitude, was tapping
the ground nervously with the toe of her adorable slipper.
After the boat started, a Canadian lady of ripe age, yet of a vivacity
not to be reconciled with the notion of the married state, capered
briskly about among her somewhat stolid and indifferent friends, saying,
"They're going to fire it as soon as we round the point"; and presently
a dull boom, as of a small piece of ordnance discharged in the
neighborhood of the hotel, struck through the gathering fog, and this
elderly sylph clapped her hands and exulted: "They've fired it, they've
fired it! and now the captain will blow the whistle in answer." But the
captain did nothing of the kind, and the lady, after some more girlish
effervescence, upbraided him for an old owl and an old muff, and so sank
into such a flat and spiritless calm that she was sorrowful to see.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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