With this chivalrous determination he visited his lovely and all
unconscious mistress the next day, but the fair lady was busy
ironing.--"I shall see her again this evening," thought he, as he turned
slowly towards the town; and see her that evening he did. They rambled
out towards the cape, or promontory, almost invariably the scene of
their summer evening walks; for lovers, after one or two strolls over a
particular portion of ground, regard it as almost sacred; there are a
thousand sweet recollections connected with every step--here they have
paused to admire some particular feature in the prospect--under that
spreading tree they have stood together in silence, busy with their own
peculiar thoughts; and this walk is seldom, if ever, changed--it is
almost like inconstancy to each other to propose a different route.
They had reached the high bluff, and were seated, as usual, upon a
solitary block of granite, which, had they lived in heathen times, they
might have worshipped as the ancient and much respected god Terminus.
Mary, who had hitherto had the conversation almost entirely to herself,
suddenly noticed her lover's abstraction.
"Why, what's the matter with you, Thomas?"
"Nothing; I was only thinking, Mary."
"'Thinking, Mary!' well, do speak to Mary once in a while. I believe,"
she continued, after a pause, and with a faltering voice and feeling of
faintness that she could not account for, "I believe you are in love,
Thomas." She had heard that day that Captain Kelson was making furious
love to a sea-nymph in B----, the daughter of one of the richest
inhabitants.
"So I am, sweet Mary, most desperately so."
"I know it, sir; I heard it all this morning; I wish you joy," gasped
the poor girl.
"Heard of it all! good heavens, Mary, what do you mean? it is you, my
own dearest girl, that I love; who else _could_ you think of?" as he
spoke he held both her hands in his and clasped them earnestly.
"I heard," faltered poor Mary, "I was told that--that it was--Jane
Wilson, O, Thomas!" and sinking her glowing cheek upon his shoulder, she
burst into tears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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