Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXVII, August 1852, Vol. VVarious
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXVII, August 1852, Vol. V
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
The band played on: the music seemed only to make more melodious and
expressive all that we said. At intervals, we stopped and leaned
upon the railing by a column wreathed with a flowering vine, and
Lulu's eye seeking the fairest blossom, found it, and her hand
placed it in mine. I forgot commencement-day, and the glory of the
valedictory. Lulu's eyes were more inspiring than the enthusiastic
thousand in the church; and the remembered bursts of the band that
day were lost in the low whispers of the girl upon my arm. I do not
remember what we said. I did not mean to flirt, in the usual sense
of that word (men at a Watering-Place never do). It was an
intoxication most fatal of all, and which no Maine law can avert.
Herbert joined us later in the afternoon, and proposed a drive; he
was anxious to show me his horses. We parted to meet at the door.
Lulu gently detached her arm from mine; said gayly, "Au revoir,
bientôt!" as she turned away; and I bounded into the hall, sprang
up-stairs into my room, and sat down, stone-still, upon a chair.
I looked fixedly upon the floor, and remained perfectly motionless
for five minutes. I was lost in a luxury of happiness! Without a
profession, without a fortune, I felt myself irresistibly drawn
toward this girl;--and the very fascination lay here, that I knew,
however wild and wonderful a feeling I might indulge, it was all
hopeless. We should enjoy a week of supreme happiness--suffer in
parting--and presently be solaced, and enjoy other weeks of supreme
felicity with other Lulus!
My young friends of the Watering-Places, deny having had just such
an emotion and "course of thought," if you dare!
We drove to the lake, and the whole world of Saratoga with us.
Herbert's new bays sped neatly along--he driving in front, Lulu and
I chatting behind. Arrived at the lake, we sauntered down the steep
slope to the beach. We stepped into a boat and drifted out upon the
water. It was still and gleaming in the late afternoon; and the
pensive tranquillity of evening was gathering before we returned. We
sang those passionate, desperate love-songs which young people
always sing when they are happiest and most sentimental. So rapidly
had we advanced--for a Watering-Place is the very hot-bed of
romance--that I dropped my hand idly upon Lulu's; and finding that
hers was not withdrawn, gradually and gently clasped it in mine. So,
hand-in-hand, we sang, floating homeward in the golden twilight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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