William Edgerton was among the guests of Mrs. Clifford. There

had been no previous intimacy between the Edgerton and Clifford

families, yet he had been specially invited. Mrs. C. could have

had but a single motive for inviting him--so I thought--that of

making her evening a jam. She had just that ambition of the lady

of small fashion, who regards the number rather than the quality of

her guests, and would prefer a saloon full of Esquimaux or Kanzas,

and would partake of their sea-blubber, rather than lose the triumph

of making more noise than her rival neighbors, the Sprigginses or

Wigginses.

William Edgerton did not seek me; but, when I left the side of my

wife to pay my respects to some ladies at the opposite end of the

room, he approached her. A keen pang that rendered me unconscious

of everything I was saying--nay, even of the persons to whom I was

addressing myself--shot through my heart, as I beheld him crossing

the floor to the place that I had left. Involuntarily, the gracefulness

of his person and carriage provoked in my mind a contrast most

unfavorable to me, between him and myself. It was no satisfaction

to me at that time to reflect that I was less graceful only because

I was more earnest, more sincere. This is usually the case, and

is reasonably accounted for. Intensity and great earnestness of

character, are wholly inconsistent with a nice attention to forms,

carriage, demeanor. But what does a lady care for such distinction?

Does she even suspect it? Not often. If she could only fancy for

a moment that the well-made but awkward man who traverses the room

before her, carried in his breast a soul of such ardency and volume

that it subjected his very motion arbitrarily to its own excitements,

its own convulsions; that the very awkwardness which offended her

was the result of the most deep and passionate feelings--feelings

which, like the buried flame in the mountain, are continually

boiling up for utterance--convulsing the prison-house which retained

them--shaking the solid earth with their pent throes, that will

not always be pent! Ah! these things do not move ladies' fancies.

There are very few endowed with that thoughtful pride which disdains

surfaces. Julia Clifford was one of these few! But I little knew

it then.

The approach of William Edgerton to my wife was a signal for my

torture all that evening. From that moment my mind was wandering.

I knew little what I said, or looked, or did. My chat with those

around me became, on a sudden, bald and disjointed; and when I

beheld the pair, both nobly formed--he tall, graceful, manly--she,

beautiful and bending as a lily--a purity beaming, amid all their

brightness, from her eyes--a purity which, I had taught myself to

believe, was no longer in her heart--when I beheld them advance into

the floor, conspicuous over all the rest, in most eyes, as they

certainly were in mine--I can not describe--you may conjecture--the

cold, fainting sickness which overcame my soul. I could have lain

myself down upon the lone, midnight rocks, and surrendered myself

to solitude and storm for ever.




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