The Cornhill Magazine (Vol. I, No. 6, June 1860)Various
History
The Cornhill Magazine (Vol. I, No. 6, June 1860)
Various
England -- Periodicals; English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
When the bell rang for dinner, I found my way, though with difficulty,
to the drawing-room, where were assembled Lady Hilton, a girl of about
thirteen, and the two boys, my pupils. Lady Hilton would have been
pleasant, could she have been as natural as she wished to appear. She
received me with some degree of kindness; but the half-cordiality of
her manner towards me was evidently founded on the impassableness of
the gulf between us. I knew at once that we should never be friends;
that she would never come down from the lofty tableland upon which she
walked; and that if, after being years in the house, I should happen to
be dying, she would send the housekeeper to me. All right, no doubt; I
only say that it was so. She introduced to me my pupils; fine, open-eyed,
manly English boys, with something a little overbearing in their manner,
which speedily disappeared in relation to me. They have so little to do
with my tale, that I shall scarcely have occasion to mention them again.
Lord Hilton was not at home. Lady Hilton led the way to the dining-room;
the elder boy gave his arm to his sister, and I was about to follow with
the younger; when from one of the deep bay windows glided out, still in
white, the same figure which had passed me upon the lawn. I started, and
drew back. With a slight bow, she preceded me, and followed the others
down the great staircase. Seated at table, I had leisure to make my
observations upon them all; but I must say most of my glances found their
way to the lady who, twice that day, had affected me like an apparition.
Alas! what was she ever to me but an apparition! What is time, but the
airy ocean in which ghosts come and go! She was about twenty years of
age, rather above the middle height, somewhat slight in form, with a
complexion rather white than pale; her face being only less white than
the deep marbly whiteness of her most lovely arms. Her eyes were large,
and full of liquid night—a night throbbing with the light of invisible
stars. Her hair seemed raven-black, and in quantity profuse. Lady Hilton
called her Lady Alice; and she never addressed Lady Hilton but in the
same ceremonious style.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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