Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. February 1848Various
General
Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. February 1848
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
She played off all her arts in vain, he seemed
unconscious, and devoted himself entirely to Effie. At first she was
so occupied with securing the two other prizes she overlooked his
delinquency, but when certain of them, she was piqued into
accomplishing a conquest of him likewise. I did not think she would be
successful, and amused myself by quietly watching her manoeuvres.
One bright moonlight evening the gentlemen rowed us up the
mill-stream, and as we returned we landed at our favorite oak. The
waters, swelled by recent rains, came dashing and tumbling along in
mimic billows; the moon beamed down a heavenly radiance, and as the
little wavelets broke against the shore, they glittered like molten
silver, covering the wild blossoms with dazzling fairy gems. Kate's
two lovers were talking and walking with Mrs. Morris and Effie along
the shore. Lucien, Kate, and I, remained on a little bank that rose
abruptly from the water. She did, indeed, look most bewitchingly
beautiful; her soft, white dress, bound at the waist by a flowing
ribbon, floated in graceful folds around her; her lovely neck,
shoulders and arms, were quite uncovered, and her rich, dark hair fell
in loose, long curls, making picturesque shadows in the moonlight. She
could act the inspired enthusiast to perfection; and what our Effie
really was, she could affect most admirably. She seemed unconscious of
our presence; indeed, I do not think she thought I was near her, and,
as if involuntarily, she burst out into one of her affected
rhapsodies, her eyes beamed brightly, and she expressed her feelings
most rapturously, concluding with repeating, in low, earnest, half
trembling tones, some lines of Lucien's she had taken from my Scrap
Book, descriptive of the very scene before her, written the preceding
summer for Effie, after a moonlight ramble together. The poetry was
quite impassioned; and I heard Kate murmur with a sigh, as she turned
away after concluding her quotation, as if sick at heart, "Ah! I would
give years of brilliant success for one hour of devotion from such a
lover."
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