The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical NovelKirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
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The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical Novel
Kirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
Uncle Job’s departure made me very unhappy, and when I could no longer
see a trace of the boat that carried him away, my heart grew sick and
tears started in my eyes at the thought of my abandoned state. Cousin
Rolland, however, scarce giving me time to breathe, took me here and
there about the little town, keeping up the while such a flow of small
talk that in a little while I found myself joining with the greatest
heartiness in all he said and did. When it was time for luncheon we
went to his home, but not directly, for making some excuse, he left me a
little way off, going on alone. This I thought very proper, I being a
stranger to his wife and the circumstances of my coming peculiar. When,
however, he did not return for an hour or more, I became uneasy, and
some further time elapsing, was filled with fear, not being able to
understand the cause of his prolonged absence. At last, to my great
relief, he returned, and without explaining anything, began anew to
assure me of the delight with which Cousin Angeline entered into our
plans and the desire she had to know her young kinsman. Thus relieved
of any anxiety, for I was never of a suspicious disposition, I went on
with him to his home in the greatest possible ease of mind. Nothing in
Cousin Angeline’s manner tended to disturb this feeling when I was
presented to her. Nor afterward, indeed, at luncheon, for she was, on
occasion and when that way inclined, a woman of more than ordinary tact
and dignity. Much younger than Cousin Rolland, she lacked his rosiness
of color and fullness of figure, he being very red and plump of build,
while she was tall and of somewhat meager frame. Her eyes, if I may
attempt to tell you how she looked, were a light blue, and save when at
times tinged with a steeliness as of ice, were rather attractive than
otherwise. Her mouth I thought remarkable for its great firmness, for
her lips offered no more resistance to the eye than the edge of a
knife-blade. Her nose, too, was noticeable, being finely formed and in
all things perfect, until at last, approaching the end, the material
giving out, or something else happening, what remained had been squeezed
into a point somewhat too sharp for comeliness, and so left. However, I
did not observe these things at the time, or if I did, only vaguely,
being young and generally ignorant in respect to the importance of such
matters in our daily life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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