Love stories; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The little parlor resounded with animated talk, laughter, and music,
that was at the same time as refined as informal. Mrs. Vosburgh
would seat herself at the piano, that a new dancing-step or a new
song might be tried. The gentlemen were at liberty to light their
cigars and form groups among themselves, so free from stiffness
was Marian's little salon. Brief time elapsed, however, without a
word to each, in her merry, girlish voice, for she had the instincts
of a successful hostess, and a good-natured sense of honor, which
made her feel that each guest was entitled to attention. She was
not much given to satire, and the young men soon learned that she
would say more briery things to their faces than behind their backs.
It was also discovered that ill-natured remarks about callers who
had just departed were not tolerated,--that within certain limits
she was loyal to her friends, and that, she was too high-minded to
speak unhandsomely of one whom she had just greeted cordially. If
she did not like a man she speedily froze him out of the ranks of
her acquaintance; but for such action there was not often occasion,
since she and her mother had a broad, easy tolerance of those
generally accepted by society. Even such as left her parlor finally
with wounds for which there was no rapid healing knew that no one
would resent a jest at their expense more promptly than the girl
whom they might justly blame for having smiled too kindly.
Thus she remained a general favorite. It was recognized that she had
a certain kind of loyalty which could be depended upon. Of course
such a girl would eventually marry, and with natural hope and
egotism each one felt that he might be the successful competitor.
At any rate, as in war, they must take their chances, and it seems
that there is never a lack of those willing to assume such risks.
Thus far, however, Marian had no inclination to give up her present
life of variety and excitement. She preferred incense from many
worshippers to the devotion of one. The secret of this was perhaps
that her heart had remained so untouched and unconscious that she
scarcely knew she had one. She understood the widower's preference,
enjoyed the compliment, and should there be occasion would, in
perfect good taste, beg to be excused.
Her pulse was a little quickened by Mr. Lane's downright earnestness,
and when matters should come to a crisis she would say lovely
things to him of her esteem, respect, regret, etc. She would wish
they might remain friends--why could they not, when she liked him
so much? As for love and engagement, she did not, could not, think
of that yet.
She was skilful, too, in deferring such crises, and to-night, in
obedience to a signal, Mrs. Vosburgh remained until even Mr. Lane
despaired of another word in private, and departed, fearing to put
his fate to the test.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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