Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- History -- 1775-1865 -- Fiction
At the gates of her home they stood a moment, and there Hyde touched
her hand, and said, "I have never, in all my life, been so happy. It
has been a walk beyond hope, and beyond expression!" And she lifted her
face, and the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes answered him.
Then the great white door shut her from his sight, and he walked
rapidly away, saying to his impetuous steps--
"An enchanting creature! An adorable girl! I have given her my heart;
and lost, is lost; and gone, is gone forever. That I am sure of. But,
by St. George! every man has his fate, and I rejoice that mine is so
sweet and fair! so sweet! so sweet! so fair!"
Cornelia trembled as she opened the parlour door, she feared to look
into her mother's face, but it was as serene as usual, and she met her
daughter's glance with one of infinite affection and some little
expectancy. This was a critical moment, and Cornelia hesitated
slightly. Some little false sprite put a ready excuse into her heart,
but she banished it at once, and with the courage of one who fears lest
they are not truthful enough, she said with a blunt directness which
put all subterfuge out of the question--
"Mother, I have been a long time, but I met Lieutenant Hyde, and we
walked down to the Battery; and I think I have stayed beyond the hour I
ought to have stayed--but the weather was so delightful."
"The weather is very delightful, and Lieutenant Hyde is very polite.
Did he speak of the violets he sent you?"
"I suppose he forgot them. Ah, there they are! How beautiful! How
fragrant! I will give them to you, mother."
"They are your own, my dear. I would not give them away."
Then Cornelia lifted them, and shyly buried her face in their beauty
and sweetness; and afterwards took the card in her hand and read
"Lieutenant George Hyde." "But, mother," she said, "Arenta called him
Joris."
"Joris is George, my dear."
"Certainly, I had forgotten. Joris is the Dutch, George is the English
form. I think I like George better."
"As you have neither right nor occasion to call him by either name, it
is of no consequence Take away your flowers and put them in water--the
young man is very extravagant, I think. Do you know that it is quite
noon, and your father will be home in a little while?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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