Fashion -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Women's periodicals, American
Meantime, Ellwood Floyd, Edith's brother, desirous to repeat the
experiment, had seated himself at the table, and was endeavoring to
obtain assistants. But, satisfied and tired, most of the company were
more inclined to talk.
"Come, Edith," said he, impatiently.
She looked beseechingly at her aunts, who, with some reluctance, gave
their consent. They evidently regarded her as some precious jewel,
which they were afraid to trust for one moment out of their care, for
fear they should be rifled of it.
With blushing eagerness, Edith hastened to her brother's side, and
two little hands, white and soft as snow-flakes, fell softly on the
table. Instantly, two other hands, whose aristocratic beauty of form
Lord Byron might have envied, although their color was somewhat of the
brownest, were placed beside them.
"Introduce me, if you please," asked Mr. Archer, in a whisper, of a
cousin of his, a lady who was standing near; and, the ceremony being
performed, Mr. Archer felt inclined to bless the credulity which had
thus enabled him to accomplish what had been for many months the desire
of his heart.
Mr. Harrison looked on in astonishment.
"Is it possible!" he exclaimed.
"I begin to think there is something in it," said Mr. Archer.
"Is your brain turned too?"
"Perhaps it is a little," said Mr. Archer, with a half smile, while
a flush stole over his face. He would not on any account have Mr.
Harrison, the greatest tease in Westbridge, suspect the true reason for
his sudden change.
All farther attempts at conversation were strictly forbidden by Mr.
Floyd, who took upon himself the direction of the experiment. Three
other ladies had joined, but he still looked about for more recruits.
"Come, Mr. Lamb," asked he of a large, mild-looking man, who had
gathered himself up in a corner, as if he were laboring under a
constant apprehension that he took up too much room in the world, "you
will help us, I know."
Mr. Lamb begged to be excused, and the effort of speaking before so
many brought a faint pink tinge to his face.
"Have you no faith either?" asked Mr. Harrison.
"You would not ask that, if you had seen him as I did yesterday," said
Mr. Floyd, "sitting with outstretched hands over a large dining-table.
He told me, when I went in, that he had been there all the afternoon,
and had not yet produced the slightest effect."
Mr. Lamb's face was by this time a deep crimson, and, feeling it
useless to attempt to withdraw any longer from observation, he advanced
to the table and placed upon it a pair of hands so large, soft, and
yielding that, when they at last stopped spreading, seemed to cover
two-thirds of the table.
"Ah, that is something like!" said Mr. Floyd, highly satisfied with his
new recruit.
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