The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 2 of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 2 of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
Thornton Carey, who was much surprised at this sudden address,
stopped, hesitated, and looked somewhat embarrassed. Another man,
accustomed to what are called 'adventures,' would not have been in the
least thrown off his balance, either by the suddenness or the style of
the address; he would have accepted it as a matter of course, and done
his best to make himself pleasant to the speaker. Thornton Carey,
however, was not this style of man, and, even if he had been, there
was something in the earnestness of Miss Montressor's voice and manner
which would have stopped his flippancy. Had she not, moreover,
mentioned the name of Helen, and declared herself to be about to speak
in Mrs. Griswold's interests? That would have been quite enough at any
time to command Thornton Carey's sympathy and attention.
'I am a friend of Mrs. Griswold's,' he replied, looking keenly at his
interlocutor, 'and, for the matter of that, of Mr. Griswold's too, I
hope.'
'What I have to say concerns them both most nearly,' said Miss
Montressor, frankly meeting his gaze. 'Will you, in the exercise of
your friendship for them, trust me so far as to accompany me in a
carriage to the Fifth-avenue Hotel?'
Again Thornton Carey hesitated. He went very little into female
society, and, under any other circumstances, the idea of being shut up
in a carriage with a strange lady would certainly have frightened him;
and again he suffered himself to be persuaded by Miss Montressor's
manner and the object of her mission.
'I will do so willingly,' he said; and ordering the coachman to drive
to the hotel, he entered the vehicle, and took his place by his fair
companion's side.
As they drove through the crowded streets, Thornton Carey thought with
wonder upon his strange position. Here was he, the hermit, the
recluse, who so seldom emerged from his lettered seclusion far away in
the city of the South, who seldom sought for any company beyond that
of the distinguished dead who gathered around him as he pored over his
books--here he was, rattling over the stones of New York, bound for
the most luxurious hotel in the city, and with a very handsome,
dashing young woman by his side. In the course of the desultory
reading which, like most young men, he had indulged in before
permanently settling down to valuable study, he had, he remembered,
come across the description of certain adventures, such as he was then
going through; and the idea that he, whom all his coevals looked upon
as a model of sageness and sobriety, should be found under such
circumstances, would have amused him, had he not at the same time
remembered that the errand on which he was bound was, according to his
companion's words, one in which Helen's happiness was deeply
interested.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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