In the constant excitement produced by her situation, Julia could not
enter into all the feelings described by her friend, during the ride to
Schenectady. Its beauties might be melancholy, but could she be
melancholy, and Antonio so near? The pines might be silvery and lofty,
but the proud stature of majestic man, eclipsed in her eyes all their
beauties. Not so Charles. He early began to lavish his abuse on the
sterile grounds they passed, and gave any thing but encomiums on the
smoothness of the road they were travelling. In the latter particular,
even the quiet spirit of Miss Emmerson joined him, and Julia herself was
occasionally made sensible that she was not reposing "on a bed of
roses."
"Do I drive too fast for the ladies?" asked Antonio, on hearing a slight
complaint and a faint scream in the soft voice of Julia. Oh, how
considerate he is! thought our heroine--how tender!--without his care I
certainly should have been killed in this rude place. It was expected
that as she had complained, she would answer; and after a moment
employed in rallying her senses for the undertaking, she replied in a
voice of breathing melody--
"Oh! no, Antonio, you are very considerate."
For a world Julia could not have said more; and Miss Emmerson thought
that she had said quite as much as the occasion required; but Miss
Emmerson, it will be remembered, supposed their driver to be Anthony
Sandford. The hero, himself, on hearing such a gentle voice so softly
replying to his question, could not refrain from turning his face into
the carriage, and Julia felt her own eyes lower before his earnest gaze,
while her cheeks burned with the blushes that suffused them. But the
look spoke volumes--he understands my "Antonio," thought Julia, and
perceives that, to me, he is no longer unknown. That expressive glance
has opened between us a communication that will cease but with our
lives. Julia now enjoyed, for the remainder of their journey to Mr.
Miller's, one of the greatest pleasures of love--unsuspected by others,
she could hold communion with him who had her heart, by the eyes, and a
thousand tender and nameless little offices which give interest to
affection, and zest to passion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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