The Laughing Mill, and Other StoriesHawthorne, Julian
Philosophy
The Laughing Mill, and Other Stories
Hawthorne, Julian
American fiction -- 19th century
"She stopped abruptly, and rose slowly to her feet. Her eyes were cast
down shamefacedly, and she bit her lip. She lifted her hand to her
throat, and felt the diamonds there. Then, with an apprehensive, almost
a cowering glance, she peered stealthily round through the trees, as
though expecting to see something that she dreaded. Finally she turned
again, appealingly, to me, but said nothing.
"I thought I partly understood the significance of this dumb-show. She
was subject to these somnambulistic trances, and was ashamed of them.
She knew not, on this occasion, what extravagance she might have
committed in the presence of me, her lover. She feared the construction
I might put upon it, yet was too timid--or, it might be, too proud--to
speak. But her misgiving did me injustice. Shocked and grieved though I
was, I loved her more than ever.
"'You were faint, my dear, that's all,' I said, cheerfully and
affectionately. 'I brought you under this tree, and now you're all
right.'
"She shook her head, with a piteous smile. 'I know what has been the
matter with me, Mr. Gainsborough,' she said, with an attempt at reserve
and coldness in her tone. 'I had hoped I might have parted from you
before you knew, but--it was not to be so! It is very good of you to
pretend to ignore it, and I thank you--I thank you. Here,' she added,
nervously unclasping the necklace and removing the earrings, 'I have
worn these too long. Take them, please.'
"'Kate, you shall wear them forever!' cried I, passionately.
"'I must not begin yet, at all events,' she returned more firmly. 'Take
them, please, or you will make me feel more humiliated than I do now.'
She put them in my unwilling hands. 'And now we'll get our hats and go
back to the hotel,' she continued, with a smile which was pathetic in
its effort to seem indifferent and unconstrained. 'Where are they? Ah!'
"She had just caught sight of her white hat lying beside the stump on
the farther side of the gorge. The suppressed scream and the start
indicated that she now for the first time realised by what a perilous
path she had come hither. She remained for a moment gazing at the beam
with a sort of fascination; then, moving forward to the brink, looked
down the sheer precipice to the rocks below.
"'I wish I had fallen!' she said, almost below her breath; 'or,' she
added, after a short pause, in a tone still lower, but of intense
emphasis, 'I wish he had!'
"'You wish I had?'
"'I did not know you were so near,' she answered, drawing back from the
verge. 'No, no--not you! Come, we must walk round this place. Tell me,'
she said, facing me suddenly, 'did you see anyone?'
"'I think not. I fancied I heard----'
"'We must get back to the hotel,' she interrupted excitedly; 'at least,
I must get back. I don't like to be here. I wish you would leave me. I
would rather say good-bye to you here than there.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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