But every thing was still, even to the great elm-tree that swept its
branches over one end of the house, and the rose bushes that clustered
along the terraces. The youth did not like to claim admittance till some
of the servants were astir, so walked up and down the green lane, always
advancing toward the house, till you would have fancied him studying its
architecture; but his eyes always wandered to one window, and that had
nothing but a stone coping and an arched top to command his admiration.
Still the gubernatorial mansion was well worth examining, if it were
only to see how rudely the arts crept first into the New World from the
mother land. Massive stone pilasters separated the windows to the second
story; two long rows of windows ran between that and the roof, all set
in stone, and slightly arched. The central window, with elaborate blinds
and lateral sashes, carried up the outline of that ponderous wooden
portico to the still more ponderous cornices on the roof. This elaborate
attempt at architecture made the governor's house the show place of all
New England. The very children of Boston held their breath with awe of
its grandeur, and were half afraid to pluck dandelions in the green lane
after it was built.
But young Lovel had seen the mansion too often for any feeling of this
kind. The window still remained shrouded in its muslin curtains, though
the birds in the elm branches had burst forth into gushes of music that
might have charmed an angel from the brightest nook in paradise, and the
rising sun came smiling over the terraces, turning each dew-drop,
trembling on its blade of grass, into a diamond, rendering every thing
so beautiful that slumber seemed an absolute sin.
"They take it coolly enough," muttered the youth impatiently, turning
his steps to the broad gravel walk which crossed the terraces and
reached the long, sloping steps that led to the portico. "I might crunch
this white gravel under my feet forever, and she'd sleep on. No matter,
I may as well take it easily as they do; I might be in the bottom of the
harbor for any thing they know, or care either."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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