Ancestors: A NovelAtherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
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Ancestors: A Novel
Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
British -- United States -- Fiction; California -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Love stories; Political fiction
"I fancy I should have enjoyed it more if I had been up-stairs with you.
I found it more of an effort than I had imagined to make conversation
with those young men. Of course I enjoyed being openly admired and
besought for dances. Who wouldn't? But I never deluded myself for a
moment that I was anything approaching those old-time belles. As the
conditions have passed away, however, my vanity doesn't suffer. At all
events I am going to carry out my program and rush about to everything
that is given this week, to forget Rosewater, every aspiration, all that
ever happened to me. Every girl should have one girl's good time, and
although mine is belated, it would be silly to let it pass. Besides, I
am curious to see if I really can--well, delude myself."
"So am I! I have an idea you won't. You are quite different from all
those girls, who are at the same time the brightest and the most
frivolous, the most feminine and the most modern, the most daring and
the most indifferent, I have ever met. Those that have been as carefully
brought up as our ninetieth cousin, Inez Trennahan, are simply moulds
for the future to run into. There were several young persons that looked
as if they might go pretty far in a conservatory--perhaps that is the
reason Mrs. Hofer has none. She appears to have Irish virtue in excess,
and I expect the larky would get short shrift from her. But you--you are
quite unlike them all."
"I am a Californian," said Isabel, defiantly.
"Yes, but of a very exclusive sort--to say nothing of the peculiar
circumstances that were bound to breed seriousness of mind. And you have
quite a distinguished collection of real ancestors, and intellect
instead of mere cleverness. It is only once in a while that your--let me
whisper it--Western frankness and ingenuousness leap out--the
impulsiveness, the electric passion. When a certain amount of
readjustment has gone on inside of you and your more natural elements
work their way up and take possession, I really believe I shall fall in
love with you, and marry you out of hand--if you remain as beautiful as
you are to-night."
"All right," said Isabel, pretending to stifle a yawn. "That would be
interesting. All the clocks are booming something. Let us go out and see
if the sun is rising."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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