The Initials: A Story of Modern LifeTautphoeus, Jemima Montgomery, Baroness
General
The Initials: A Story of Modern Life
Tautphoeus, Jemima Montgomery, Baroness
Bavaria (Germany) -- Fiction; British -- Germany -- Fiction; Love stories
“Mr. Hamilton, I am very glad to see you; my wife and I have been
anxiously awaiting your arrival; for we are obliged to leave Seon after
dinner to-day, to go to Berchtesgaden. Now all is quite easy to
arrange—you go with us—you admire the beautiful mountains—you see the
salt mines, and then we arrange an Alp-party or a chamois-hunt together.
Are you a good shot?”
“No, I regret to say I am not,” answered Hamilton, not a little
embarrassed, for his deficiency in this respect had furnished his
brother John, greatly his inferior in other respects, with unceasing
subject for ridicule; and he half-expected some scoffing remark in
answer.
“You like to fish, or hunt on horseback, better than chamois-hunt,
perhaps?”
Hamilton acknowledged, much relieved, that he was very fond of a hunt on
horseback; he could ride, he said, much better than he could shoot.
“And I,” answered Baron Z—, good-humouredly laughing, “I can shoot
better than I can ride. I thought it would be interesting for you to be
acquainted with our sports, and——”
“It would interest me of all things to see anything of the kind, even as
a mere spectator,” exclaimed Hamilton, eagerly. “I accept your
invitation with many thanks.”
Baron Z— now desired his servant to let his wife know that “Mr.
Hamilton, the Englishman she expected, had arrived. And Joseph,” he
called after him, “take one of the carriage-boxes to Mr. Hamilton’s
room; he goes with us to Berchtesgaden.”
They were in the midst of a very animated discussion of what Hamilton
knew very little about, viz., the latest improvements in fire-arms, when
the real A. Z. entered the room. How shall we describe her? Most easily,
perhaps, by negatives. She was not tall nor short, nor stout nor thin,
nor handsome nor ugly, nor—nor—in fact, as well as Hamilton could define
his ideas at such a critical moment, he thought the impression made on
him was, that a pale, dark-haired person stood before him, whose
countenance denoted sufficient intellect to make him conscious that he
had better produce his letter and enter into an explanation at once. The
absence of all recognition on her part made him at once conscious that
he was not the person she had expected, and he stood before her blushing
so intensely that she seemed to feel at length a sort of commiseration
for him. She bit her lip to conceal a smile, and after a moment’s pause,
held out her hand, saying, “I confess I expected to have seen your
father, and am a little disappointed. You were such a mere child when I
saw you last, John, that you have completely outgrown my recollection.
You promised, indeed, to be ‘more than common tall,’ but I was not
prepared for such a specimen of—— You seem to be an inveterate blusher,
and very shy; perhaps that was the reason your father wished to send you
abroad before you joined your regiment? By-the-by, I must have been
misinformed, but I heard you had already joined! Now, pray don’t waste
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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