The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 06, No. 38, December, 1860: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 06, No. 38, December, 1860: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
Mr. Raleigh gazed in the innocent eyes a moment, to seek the extent of
her meaning, and felt, that, should he take advantage of her childlike
forgetfulness, he would be only reënacting the part he had so much
condemned in one man years before. So he merely bent low over the hand
that lay in his, raised it, and touched his lips to that. In an instant
the color suffused her face, she snatched the hand away, half rose
trembling from her seat, then sank into it again.
"_Soit, Monsieur!_" she exclaimed, abruptly. "But you have not told me
the danger."
"It will not alarm you now?" he replied, laughing.
"I have said that I am not a coward."
"I wonder what you would think of me when I say that without doubt I
am."
"You, Mr. Raleigh?" she cried, astonishment banishing anger.
"Not that I betray myself. But I have felt the true heart-sinking. Once,
surprised in the centre of an insurrection, I expected to find my hair
white as snow, if I escaped."
"Your hair is very black. And you escaped?"
"So it would appear."
"They suffered you to go on account of your terror? You feigned death?
You took flight?"
"Hardly, neither."
"Tell me about it," she said, imperiously.
Though Mr. Raleigh had exchanged the singular reserve of his youth for a
well-bred reticence, he scarcely cared to be his own hero.
"Tell me," said she. "It will shorten the time; and that is what you are
trying to do, you know."
He laughed.
"It was once when I was obliged to make an unpleasant journey into the
interior, and a detachment was placed at my service. We were in a
suspected district quite favorable to their designs, and the commanding
officer was attacked with illness in the night. Being called to his
assistance, I looked abroad and fancied things wore an unusual aspect
among the men, and sent Capua to steal down a covered path and see if
anything were wrong. Never at fault, he discovered a revolt, with intent
to murder my companion and myself, and retreat to the mountains. Of
course there was but one thing to do. I put a pistol in my belt and
walked down and in among them, singled out the ringleader, fixed him
with my eye, and bade him approach. My appearance was so sudden and
unsuspected that they forgot defiance."
"_Bien_, but I thought you were afraid."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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