Arizona -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Teachers -- Fiction
Daintily slippered, beribboned with coral-silk girdle, and with a rose
from the vine over her window in her hair, she sallied forth at last to
the trysting-place.
Forsythe was a whole hour late, as became a languid gentleman who had
traveled the day before and idled at his sister's house over a late
breakfast until nearly noon. Already his fluttering fancy was apathetic
about Rosa, and he wondered, as he rode along, what had become of the
interesting young teacher who had charmed him for more than a passing
moment. Would he dare to call upon her, now that Gardley was out of the
way? Was she still in Ashland or had she gone home for vacation? He must
ask Rosa about her.
Then he came in sight of Rosa sitting picturesquely in the shade of an
old cedar, reading poetry, a little lady in the wilderness, and he
forgot everything else in his delight over the change in her. For Rosa
had changed. There was no mistake about it. She had bloomed out into
maturity in those few short months of his absence. Her soft figure had
rounded and developed, her bewitching curls were put up on her head,
with only a stray tendril here and there to emphasize a dainty ear or
call attention to a smooth, round neck; and when she raised her lovely
head and lifted limpid eyes to his there was about her a demureness, a
coolness and charm that he had fancied only ladies of the city could
attain. Oh, Rosa knew her charms, and had practised many a day before
her mirror till she had appraised the value of every curving eyelash,
every hidden dimple, every cupid's curve of lip. Rosa had watched well
and learned from all with whom she had come in contact. No woman's guile
was left untried by her.
And Rosa was very sweet and charming. She knew just when to lift up
innocent eyes of wonder; when to not understand suggestions; when to
exclaim softly with delight or shrink with shyness that nevertheless did
not repulse.
Forsythe studied her with wonder and delight. No maiden of the city had
ever charmed him more, and withal she seemed so innocent and young, so
altogether pliable in his hands. His pulses beat high, his heart was
inflamed, and passion came and sat within his handsome eyes.
It was easy to persuade her, after her first seemingly shy reserve was
overcome, and before an hour was passed she had promised to go away with
him. He had very little money, but what of that? When he spoke of that
feature Rosa declared she could easily get some. Her father gave her
free access to his safe, and kept her plentifully supplied for the
household use. It was nothing to her--a passing incident. What should it
matter whose money took them on their way?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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