United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Social conditions -- Fiction
Mrs. Orme heard the sound on the stairs and along the hall--the
well-remembered step. Amid the tramp of a hundred she could have
singled it out, so often in bygone years had she crouched under the
lilacs that overhung the gate, listening for its rapid approach,
waiting to throw herself into the arms that would clasp her so
fondly; to-day that unaltered step smote her ears like an echo from
the tomb, and for an instant her heart stood still, and she shut her
eyes; but the door swung back, and Mr. Laurance stood upon the
threshold. As he advanced, she rose, and when he stood before her
with outstretched hand, she ignored it, merely rested her palm on the
table between them; and glancing at the card in her fingers said:
"Mr. Laurance, I believe, introduced by the American minister. A
countryman of mine, he writes. As such I am pleased to see you, sir,
for when abroad the mere name of American is an _open sesame_ to
American sympathy and hospitality. Pray be seated, Mr. Laurance.
Pardon me, not that stiff-backed ancient contrivance of torture,
which must have been invented by Eymeric. You will find that green
velvet Voltaire, like its namesake, far more easy, affording ample
latitude."
The sweet voice rung its silver chimes as clearly as when she trod
the stage, and no shadow of the past cast its dusky wing over her
proud, pale face, while she gracefully waved him to a seat, and
resumed her own.
"If Madame Orme, so recently from home, yields readily to the
talismanic spell of 'American' she can perhaps imagine the
fascination it exerts over one who for many years has roamed far
from his roof-tree and his hearthstone; but who never more proudly
exulted in his nationality than last night, when as Queen of Tragedy,
Madame lent new lustre to the land that claims the honour of being
her birthplace."
"Thanks. Then I may infer you paid me the tribute of your presence
last evening?"
They looked across the table, into each other's eyes,--hers radiant
with a dangerous steely glitter, his eloquent with the intense
admiration which kindled on the previous evening, now glowed more
fervently from the contemplation of a beauty that to-day appeared
tea-fold more irresistible. The question slightly disconcerted him.
"I had the honour of accompanying our minister, and sharing his box."
"Indeed! I have never had the pleasure of meeting him, and hoped to
have seen him to-day, as he fixed this hour for the arrangement of
some business details, concerning which I was advised to consult him.
One really cannot duly appreciate American liberty until one has been
trammelled by foreign formalities and Continental police quibbles."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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