American fiction -- 19th century; Manners and customs -- Fiction
"I think, Mr. Ludlow, that you are a strangely unscrupulous man. How did
you know that Mr. Perkins's business was not urgent?"
"I didn't know it. But I knew it could be no more urgent than mine.
Depend upon it, Miss Moore, you have no case against me. I only pretend
to be a man; to have admitted that charming young gentleman would have
been heroic."
Adela was familiar with a sequestered spot, in the very heart of the
fields, as it seemed to her, to which she now proposed to conduct her
friend. The point was to select a goal neither too distant nor too near,
and to adopt a pace neither too rapid nor too slow. But although Adela's
happy valley was a good two miles away, and they had measured the
interval with the very _minimum_ of speed, yet most sudden seemed their
arrival at the stile over which Adela was used to strike into the
meadows. Once on the road, she felt a precipitate conviction that there
could be no evil in an adventure so essentially wholesome as that to
which she had lent herself, and that there could be no guile in a spirit
so deeply sensitive to the sacred influences of Nature, and to the
melancholy aspect of incipient Autumn as that of her companion. A man
with an unaffected relish for small children is a man to inspire young
women with a generous confidence; and so, in a lesser degree, a man
with a genuine feeling for the simple beauties of a common New England
landscape may not unreasonably be accepted by the daughters of the scene
as a person worthy of their esteem. Adela was a great observer of the
clouds, the trees and the streams, the sounds and colors, the echoes and
reflections native to her adopted home; and she experienced an honest
joy at the sight of Ludlow's keen appreciation of these modest facts.
His enjoyment of them, deep as it was, however, had to struggle against
that sensuous depression natural to a man who has spent the Summer in a
close and fetid laboratory in the heart of a great city, and against a
sensation of a less material color--the feeling that Adela was a
delightful girl. Still, naturally a great talker, he celebrated his
impressions in a generous flow of good-humored eloquence. Adela resolved
within herself that he was decidedly a companion for the open air. He
was a man to make use, even to abuse, of the wide horizon and the high
ceiling of Nature. The freedom of his gestures, the sonority of his
voice, the keenness of his vision, the general vivacity of his manners,
seemed to necessitate and to justify a universal absence of barriers.
They crossed the stile, and waded through the long grass of several
successive meadows, until the ground began to rise, the stony surfaces
to crop through the turf, when, after a short ascent, they reached a
broad plateau, covered with boulders and shrubs, which lost itself on
one side in a short, steep cliff, whence fields and marshes stretched
down to the opposite river; and on the other, in scattered clumps of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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