The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy — John Shaqi
The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol 2, No 6, December 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
On one side of the house lay the broad white public road, from which one
deviated to approach this earthly paradise; on the other, a narrower
private one, a mere cart track, grass-grown, cool, and shady, leading
down to the mill stream that ran behind the grounds, brawling and
seething and swelled by the spring rains into quite a respectable
torrent. Down this path Dora always took me to walk when she wanted me
to say anything uncommonly foolish, which could serve her as food for
laughter, and down this path again we must always go when that villain
Hayes was of the party, and she wanted to play me off against him, or
him against me, or both against her womanly vanities. Accordingly I
found them equipped for a walk, loitering on the front piazza, not
waiting for me, however, as Dora took pains to explain, and as I could
readily believe, for they were flirting over a new song. Not in the best
of humor, I took the offered seat near them, wiped my heated brows, and
advised my fair cousin not to saunter through the damp woodland paths on
this most unhealthy morning. 'I advise you as a physician, mind you,'
said I, to give weight to the opinion which might be denied it in my
cousinly capacity; but she received it with utter contempt and ridicule
of my pretensions, gladly joined by Mr. Hayes, whose white teeth gleamed
wolfishly behind a long black mustache, at my expense. We had shaken
hands with great cordiality; I had inquired after his clients, he had
professed interest in my patients; I had asked him how he had enjoyed
the ride with Miss Julia Stevens last evening, and he had just
remembered seeing me, as he drove past Mrs. Hedge's in the front garden
with Anna Hedge; a reminiscence which went a thought too far, for I had
been, at the time of which he spoke, seated on this very piazza beside
the innocent young lady opposite, who now showed no tokens of the sweet
confusion, with which she listened to my broken confidence last night,
and only glanced from one to the other with guileless interest and
wondering simplicity.
Now I had said enough to her on that occasion to make me feel some
anxiety concerning her demeanor to-day, and some resolution concerning
my own. I had a right to expect, after the way in which she then treated
me, that if _my_ cheeks burned and my ears tingled, and my heart beat
faster, at the remembrance of that sweet meeting, hers would at least
betray some consciousness of the fact. But not a fleeting tremor shook
her little hand, not a shade of color deepened the rose of her round
cheek, not a passing emotion of bashfulness weighed down her curly
eyelashes. She was serenely self-possessed, superbly cool, and attentive
to the obnoxious Hayes, in proportion as she was disregardful of me.
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