Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, June 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 6, June 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
And Edith? All this while of chances and changes how is the time passing
with her? See for yourself reader! Follow me gently into that well-known
parlor of her mother’s dwelling. There she sits, the beautiful one! as
light, as graceful, and still more lovely than when we saw her last; for
we now behold her a thinking, refined, intellectual woman, with all her
youthful, beaming charms, heightened into exquisite and womanly
perfection. She is leaning, rather pensively, on the arm of the chair,
drawn to the opened and perfume draped window, with her soft, dimpled
hand holding in its rose-colored palm the rounded chin; the neat, little
foot patting unconsciously the floor—her eyes bent on the flowers of
her garden, seeing them in all their floating hues, like the mingled
colors of a kaleidoscope, before her musing gaze. Her guitar leans
against her knee, and the other hand is straying across the strings,
awaking its echoes like the notes of an Eolian harp.
“Mother, I will go with cousin Frank and Sallie to Old Point. They are
so anxious I should do so.”
“And suppose, Edith, Mr. Lennard arrives in your absence, what shall I
tell him?” said Mrs. Morton, with a smile.
“Mother, you must forgive my first breach of confidence, for I was too
unhappy, too wounded in my pride and love to speak of what I am going to
tell you,” said Edith, her listless attitude now abandoned for one of
energy, and the usual musical tones were rapid and more harsh—“yes,
mother, my very first. Mr. Lennard will be at Old Point soon after I
reach there. Yesterday I received a letter from him, and such a letter!”
Edith’s voice faltered, but indignantly driving back the tears which
were filling her eyes, she drew from her pocket a letter, and handing it
to her mother, told her to read it. Whilst Mrs. Morton arranged her
glasses, Edith sunk back into the chair with a slight frown and
heightened color, and one could see from the clenched hand how
determined she was to overcome the agitation which was increasing by her
disclosures.
“_New York, June, 1847._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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