United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
"One can see a rare flower," he had reasoned, "without wishing to pluck
it, or hear a wood-thrush sing without straightway thinking of a cage.
Miss St. John's affections may be already engaged, or I may be the last
person in the world to secure them. Idle fancies of what she might
become to me are harmless enough. Any man is prone to indulge in these
when seeing a woman who pleases his taste and kindles his imagination.
When it comes to practical action one may expect and desire nothing
more than the brightening of one's wits and the securing of agreeable
pastime. I do not see why I should not be entirely content with these
motives, until my brief visit is over, notwithstanding my aunt's
ominous warnings;" and so without any misgivings he had at first
yielded himself to all the spells that Miss St. John might
unconsciously weave.
As time passed, however, he began to doubt whether he could maintain
his cool, philosophic attitude of enjoyment. He found himself growing
more and more eager for the hours to return when he could seek her
society, and the intervening time was becoming dull and heavy-paced.
The impulse to go back to Germany and to resume his studies was slow in
coming. Indeed, he was at last obliged to admit to himself that a game
of whist with the old major had more attractions than the latest
scientific treatise. Not that he doted on the irascible veteran, but
because he thus secured a fair partner whose dark eyes were beaming
with mirth and intelligence, whose ever-springing fountain of happiness
was so full that even in the solemnity of the game it found expression
in little piquant gestures, brief words, and smiles that were like
glints of sunshine. Her very presence lifted him to a higher plane, and
gave a greater capacity for enjoyment, and sometimes simply an arch
smile or an unexpected tone set his nerves vibrating in a manner as
delightful as it was unexplainable by any past experience that he could
recall. She was a good walker and horsewoman, and as their acquaintance
ripened he began to ask permission to join her in her rides and
rambles. She assented without the slightest hesitancy, but he soon
found that she gave him no exclusive monopoly of these excursions, and
that he must share them with other young men. Her absences from home
were always comparatively brief, however, and that which charmed him
most was her sunny devotion to her invalid and often very irritable
father. She was the antidote to his age and to his infirmities of body
and temper. While she was away the world in general, and his own little
sphere in particular, tended toward a hopeless snarl. Jinny, the
colored servant, was subserviency itself, but her very obsequiousness
irritated him, although her drollery was at times diverting. It was
usually true, however, that but one touch and one voice could soothe
the jangling nerves. As Graham saw this womanly magic, which apparently
cost no more effort than the wood fire put forth in banishing
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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