Alida; or, Miscellaneous Sketches of Incidents During the Late American War.: Founded on FactComfield, Amelia Stratton
History
Alida; or, Miscellaneous Sketches of Incidents During the Late American War.: Founded on Fact
Comfield, Amelia Stratton
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
[_A&M_:
When Alonzo arrived at the house of his friend, he was received with
the same disinterested ardor he ever had been in the day of his most
unbounded prosperity. After being seated, Vincent told him that the
occasion of his sending for him was to propose the adoption of
certain measures which he doubted not might be considered highly
beneficial as it respected his future peace and happiness. "Your
family misfortunes (continued Vincent) have reached the ears of
Melissa's father. I know the old gentleman too well to believe he
will consent to receive you as his son-in-law, under your present
embarrassments. Money is the God to which he implicitly bows. The
case is difficult, but not insurmountable. You must first see
Melissa; she is now in the next room; I will introduce you in;
converse with her, after which I will lay my plan before you."]
Theodore entered the room. Alida was sitting by a window which looked
into a pleasant garden, and over verdant meadows where tall grass waved
to the evening breeze; further on, low valleys spread their umbrageous
thickets where the dusky shadows of night had began to assemble. On the
high hills beyond, the tops of lofty forests, majestically moved by the
billowy gales, caught the sun's last ray. Fleecy summer clouds hovered
around the verge of the western horizon, spangled with silvery tints or
fringed with the gold of evening.
[_A&M_:
Alonzo entered the room; Melissa was sitting by a window which
looked into a pleasant garden, and over verdant meadows, whose tall
grass waved to the evening breeze. Farther on, low vallies spread
their umbrageous thickets, where the dusky shadows of night had
begun to assemble. On high hills beyond, the tops of lofty forests,
majestically moved by the billowy gales, caught the sun's last ray.
Fleecy summer clouds hovered around the verge of the western
horizon, spangled with silvery tints or fringed with the gold of
evening.]
A mournfully murmuring rivulet purled at a little distance from the
garden, on the borders of a small grove, from whence the American wild
dove wafted her sympathetic moaning to the ear of Alida. She was leaning
on a small table as she sat by the window, which was thrown up. Her
attention was fixed. She did not perceive Raymond and Theodore as they
entered. They advanced towards her; she turned, started, and arose. With
a melancholy smile she said she supposed it was Mrs. Raymond who was
approaching, as she had just left the room. Her countenance was
dejected, which, on seeing Theodore, lighted up into a languid
sprightliness. It was evident she had been weeping. Raymond retired, and
Theodore and Alida seated themselves.
[_A&M_:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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