The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 01, November, 1857: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 01, November, 1857: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
The good lady's chagrin, therefore, was excessive, when, the next Saturday
morning but one after her daughters' return, Amelia came into her bedroom,
where she sat darning a stocking by the window, and after so much
hesitation that her mother began to wonder, suddenly put her arms about her
neck, hid her blushing face upon her shoulder, and in that position softly
whispered a confession, that a certain young gentleman, with whom she had
become acquainted in Hartford, had told her he was very much attached to
her indeed; that she was not wholly indifferent with respect to him, and
that, in fact, she loved him. While Mrs. Bugbee remained speechless with
surprise, Miss Amelia proceeded to say, that it was highly probable the
young gentleman would that very afternoon take it into his head to ride
out from Hartford to Belfield; and perhaps he would also request permission
to visit her regularly, with the ultimate purpose of asking her hand in
marriage; in which case, she said, it was to be hoped her parents would not
refuse his modest petition; for that the young gentleman was a very good
and worthy young gentleman, a law-student of extraordinary promise, of as
old and respectable a family as any other in the State, and, withal, a
young gentleman in no wise given to bad habits of any kind whatsoever, but,
on the contrary, distinguished for his exemplary morals and sober conduct.
All this Amelia uttered very earnestly; but, strange to say, made no
mention of the quality which, as much as all the rest, had attracted
her regards; namely, the young gentleman's good looks, for which he was
somewhat noted, and of which he was not a little vain.
When the Doctor returned that day from his morning ride among his patients,
his wife took him aside into their bedroom and related what has just been
set forth. The Doctor listened with grave attention till his wife concluded
her story; but when, at the end of it, she began to lament, he turned the
thing off with a laugh, and giving her a hearty kiss, endeavored to soothe
her disquiet. "Well, well, mother," said he, "why, let him come, let him
come. It's only a year or two sooner than I expected, and may be it'll be a
flash in the pan after all. I think I must have seen the young fellow in at
Squire Johnson's; and at any rate, I'm pretty sure I know his father. When
he comes, we'll just invite him right over here to spend the Sabbath, and
by the time he goes away on Monday we'll know the twist of every thread in
his jacket. If he's the right one to make our girl happy, we ought to be
glad she's found him; and if he a'n't, it'll be all the harder to make her
listen to reason, unless we show reason ourselves; and, surely, it would be
unreasonable to be set against him, before we've even seen him or heard him
say a word."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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