Joseph and His Friend: A Story of PennsylvaniaTaylor, Bayard
General
Joseph and His Friend: A Story of Pennsylvania
Taylor, Bayard
Pennsylvania -- Fiction
"She is very quiet," said Joseph, "and very unlike you."
"Every one notices that. And we seem to be unlike in character, as much
so as if there were no relationship between us. But I must say for
Clementina, that she is above personal likings and dislikings; she looks
at people abstractly. You are only a future brother-in-law to her, and I
don't believe she can tell whether your hair is black or the beautiful
golden brown that it is."
Joseph smiled, not ill-pleased with Julia's delicate flattery. "I am all
the more delighted," he said, "that you are different. I should not like
you, Julia, to consider me an abstraction."
"You are very real, Joseph, and very individual," she answered, with one
of her loveliest smiles.
Not ten minutes afterwards, Julia, whose eyes and ears were keenly on
the alert, notwithstanding her gay, unrestrained talk, heard the click
of a latch-key. She sprang up, laid her forefinger on her lips, gave
Joseph a swift, significant glance, and darted into the hall. A sound of
whispering followed, and there was no mistaking the deep, hoarse murmur
of one of the voices.
Mr. Blessing, without the fluted pillar and the crimson curtain, was
less formidable than Joseph had anticipated. The years had added to his
body and taken away from his hair; yet his face, since high stocks were
no longer in fashion, had lost its rigid lift, and expressed the chronic
cordiality of a popular politician. There was a redness about the rims
of his eyes, and a fulness of the under lid, which also denoted
political habits. However, despite wrinkles, redness, and a general
roughening and coarsening of the features, the resemblance to the
portrait was still strong; and Joseph, feeling as if the presentation
had already been made, offered his hand as soon as Mr. Blessing entered
the room.
"Very happy to see you, Mr. Asten," said the latter. "An unexpected
pleasure, sir."
He removed the glove from his left hand, pulled down his coat and vest,
felt the tie of his cravat, twitched at his pantaloons, ran his fingers
through his straggling gray locks, and then threw himself into a chair,
exclaiming: "After business, pleasure, sir! My duties are over for the
day. Mrs. Blessing probably informed you of my official capacity; but
you can have no conception of the vigilance required to prevent evasion
of the revenue laws. We are the country's watch-dogs, sir."
"I can understand," Joseph said, "that an official position carries with
it much responsibility."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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