At the Mercy of TiberiusEvans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
History
At the Mercy of Tiberius
Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
Rome -- History -- Tiberius, 14-37 -- Fiction
It was midnight in November, keenly cold, but windless; and in the
purplish sky, the wintry crown of stars burned with silvery lustre,
unlike the golden glow of constellations throbbing in sultry summer,
and their white fires sparkled, flared as if blown by interstellar
storms. The large family of Lazarus huddled over dying embers on
darkening hearths, and shivered under scanty shreds of covering; but
the house of Dives was alight with the soft radiance of wax candles,
fragrant with the warm aroma of multitudinous exotics, and brimming
with waves of riotous music, on which merry-hearted favorites of
fashion swam in measured mazes. The "reception" given by Judge Parkman
to the Governor and his staff, on the occasion of a review of State
troops at X--, was at its height; and several counties had been skimmed
for the creme de la creme of most desirable representatives of wit,
wealth and beauty.
Miss Gordon had arrived unusually late, and as she entered the room,
leaning on her uncle's arm, she noticed that Mr. Dunbar was the centre
of a distinguished group standing under the chandelier. He was gently
fanning his hostess, who stood beside the Governor, and evidently he
was narrating some spicy incident, or uttering some pungent witticism,
whereat all laughed heartily. The light fell full on his fine figure,
which rose above all surrounding personages, and was faultlessly
apparelled in evening dress; and Leo's heart filled with tender pride,
at the consciousness that he was all her own. The exigencies of
etiquette prevented for more than an hour any nearer approach, but when
Mr. Dunbar had rendered "Caesar's things" to social Caesar, and paid
tribute of bows, smiles, compliments and persiflage into the coffer of
custom, he made his way through the throng, to the spot where his
betrothed stood resting after her third dance.
"Will Miss Gordon grant me a promenade in lieu of the dance, which
misfortunes conspired to prevent me from securing earlier in the
evening?"
He drew her hand under his arm, and his eyes ran with proprietorial
freedom over the details of her costume, pale blue satin, creamy foam
of white lace, soft sheen of large pearls, and bouquet of exquisite
half blown La France roses.
Since their betrothal, he had claimed the privilege of sending the
flowers she wore, on special occasions, and she had invariably
expressed her appreciation through the dainty lips of a boutonniere
arranged by her own fingers. Now while he recognized the roses resting
on her corsage, her eyes dwelt on her favorite double lilac violets,
nestling in the buttonhole of his coat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account