First harvests : $b An episode in the life of Mrs. Levison Gower : A satire without a moralStimson, Frederic Jesup
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First harvests : $b An episode in the life of Mrs. Levison Gower : A satire without a moral
Stimson, Frederic Jesup
American fiction -- 19th century
“She doesn’t seem to think so, and you needn’t remind her of it,” said
Charlie, the worldling; and Arthur, having noted the number of the box
from the end of the row, started on his quest. He came to the door that
seemed to be the seventh in number from the stage, and paused a minute
with his hand upon the knob. What young man’s heart, however much its
pulsations may be dedicated to another, does not beat awkwardly when
he is on the point of addressing three lovely women, two of them quite
unknown, the other nearly so? Then again, suppose he had counted wrong,
and not got into the right box?
His hesitation was cut short by the sudden opening of the door and the
exit of a gentleman from within. Before it closed, Arthur had plunged
boldly into the dark anteroom, and was blinking earnestly out from it,
somewhat dazzled by the blaze of light and the gleam of the three pairs
of white shoulders in front.
“Ah, Mr. Holyoke, I hoped you would come--Mr. Wemyss, Mr. Holyoke--Miss
Duval, Mrs. Malgam, Mr. Holyoke, of----”
“Of New York, I believe,” said Arthur, bowing, and accepting the chair
which the gentleman addressed as Wemyss had given up, at a look from
Mrs. Gower. Certainly, Mrs. Gower had charming manners, he thought;
and it was very pleasant of her to be pleasant to him.
“Of New York? I am so glad--I knew that Great Barrington was only your
summer home, but I had feared that you were wedded to Boston. Where is
Miss Holyoke?” Mrs. Gower added, without apparent malice; and Arthur
cursed himself inwardly as he felt that he was blushing.
“She is living with her aunt, Mrs. Livingstone,” said he. And then,
with a wild attempt at changing the subject, “Do you like ‘Linda,’ Miss
Duval?”
(Crash! went the big drums; whizz, whizz, in cadence came the fiddles.
The wicked marquis, who had also turned up in Paris, was at his old
tricks again.)
“I think it is perfectly sweet,” said Miss Duval. “Patti does it so
well!”
“It must be very pleasant for her to have you here,” said Mrs. Gower,
innocently. “I was so sorry to hear of poor Judge Holyoke’s death. And
so you have come to settle in New York? How delightful! Let me see--I
have not seen you since last summer, at Lenox, have I?”
“It is very kind of you to remember me,” said Arthur.
“Or was it Lenox?” Mrs. Gower went on. “I remember seeing Miss Holyoke
one day as I drove by, in Great Barrington,” she added naïvely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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