Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 2, August 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 2, August 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“I often met with Julia at the house of mutual friends. I certainly
liked the girl; and my vanity was flattered, because, with so many
admirers around her, she showed me, as I thought, a decided preference.
She seemed to be never tired of talking about the sea. She wearied me
with questions about it; and on more than one occasion said—very
unguardedly—that she thought a voyage to India would be the most
delightful thing in the world. Of course, I made fitting answer, that
with a congenial companion, a voyage anywhere would be delightful; and,
more than once, opportunity being favorable, I was on the point of
declaring myself, when an internal qualm of conscience arrested the
dangerous avowal.
“Affairs were in this state, when an accident befell me which brought
matters to a crisis. There was a steeple-chase one day in the
neighborhood of Canterbury, which I attended on foot. During the
excitement of the race, I attempted a difficult cut across the country,
failed at a leap which was beyond my powers, and had the misfortune to
sprain my ankle. The injury was a very severe one, and I was laid up for
many weeks in my lodgings. You have often laughed at me for taking every
thing so coolly. I assure you that I did not take this coolly at all. I
chafed, indeed, like a lion in the toils; and was continually arresting
the progress of my recovery, by putting—in spite of repeated
prohibitions—the crippled member to the ground. At last, I began to
learn a little philosophy, and resigned myself to the sofa with a groan.
“The loss of my liberty was bad enough; but the loss of Julia’s society
was a hundred times worse. Her father came often to see me, and brought
me kind messages from his daughter; but, if I had had no more
substantial consolations, I believe that I should have gone mad. Julia
did not actually come to see me; but she wrote me repeated notes of
inquiry, and often sent me flowers, and books, and other tokens of
womanly kindness. The messenger employed on these occasions was Miss
Harper’s maid—”
“Ah! sworn at Highgate,” I interrupted; “we are coming to it now.
Another glass of claret to improve the flavor of the story.”
He tossed off the bumper I had given him, as though he were drinking
devoutly to some lady’s health, and then continued with increased
animation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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