Ernest Linwood; or, The Inner Life of the AuthorHentz, Caroline Lee
General
Ernest Linwood; or, The Inner Life of the Author
Hentz, Caroline Lee
Fiction
"Glad to see me? I know you are. Taken you all by storm. Found this
gentleman wandering like a troubled spirit by the way-side, and pressed
him into service. I shall make a gallant knight of him yet, My dear
soul!" she cried, spying me out and rushing towards me, "I am so glad to
see you here, escaped from the ruthless hands of the doctor. I never saw
such a despot in my life, except _one_;" here she looked laughingly and
defiantly at Ernest,--"he would out-Nero Nero himself, if he had the
opportunity."
"If I were the autocrat of Russia I would certainly exercise the right
of banishment," he answered quietly.
During this sportive encounter, Mr. Regulus came up to greet me. I had
not seen him since our memorable interview in the academy, and his
sallow face glowed with embarrassment. I rose to meet him, anxious to
show him every mark of respect and esteem. I asked him to take a seat on
the sofa by me, and ventured to congratulate him on the exceedingly
entertaining acquaintance he had made.
"A very extraordinary young lady," he cried, "amazingly merry, and
somewhat bold. I had not the most remote idea of coming here, when I
left home; but suddenly I found her arm linked in mine, and was told
that I must escort her _nolens volens_."
"Indeed! I thought you came to inquire after my health, and was feeling
_so_ grateful!"
"I did not know I should have the pleasure of seeing _you_, and I did
not hope you would welcome me with so much cordiality. I have made many
inquiries after you; indeed, I have scarcely thought of any thing else
since you were ill. You look pale, Gabriella. Are you sure you are quite
well, my child?"
The old endearing epithet! It touched me.
"I do not feel strong enough to move Mount Atlas, but well enough to
enjoy the society of my friends. I never appreciated it so highly
before."
"You have no idea how I miss you," he said, taking my fan and drawing
his thumb over it, as if he were feeling the edge of his ferula. "The
season of summer lingers, but the flowers no longer bloom for me. The
birds sing, but their notes have lost their melody. My perception of the
beautiful has grown dim, but the remembrance of it can never fade. I
never knew before what the pleasures of memory truly were."
"I recollect a copy you once set me, Mr. Regulus,--'Sweet is the memory
of absent friends,'--I thought it such a charming one!"
"Do you remember that?" he asked, with a delighted countenance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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