The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 305 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 305 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862.
I had none of that tact which is so useful in such emergencies,—­and she seemed to misinterpret my submission.  Not only was her conversation pointedly directed to me, but she looked at me, when singing, (especially, ’Thou, thou, reign’st in this bosom!’) in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable.  What if Eunice should suspect an attachment towards her, on my part?  What if—­oh, horror!—­I had unconsciously said or done something to impress Miss Ringtop herself with the same conviction?  I shuddered as the thought crossed my mind.  One thing was very certain:  this suspense was not to be endured much longer.

“We had an unusually silent breakfast the next morning.  Abel scarcely spoke, which the others attributed to a natural feeling of shame, after his display of the previous evening.  Hollins and Shelldrake discussed Temperance, with a special view to his edification, and Miss Ringtop favored us with several quotations about ’the maddening bowl,’—­but he paid no attention to them.  Eunice was pale and thoughtful.  I had no doubt, in my mind, that she was already contemplating a removal from Arcadia.  Perkins, whose perceptive faculties were by no means dull, whispered to me, ‘Sha’n’t I bring up some porgies for supper?’ but I shook my head.  I was busy with other thoughts, and did not join him in the wood, that day.

“The forenoon was overcast, with frequent showers.  Each one occupied his or her room until dinner-time, when we met again with something of the old geniality.  There was an evident effort to restore our former flow of good feeling.  Abel’s experience with the beer was freely discussed.  He insisted strongly that he had not been laboring under its effects, and proposed a mutual test.  He, Shelldrake, and Hollins were to drink it in equal measures, and compare observations as to their physical sensations.  The others agreed,—­quite willingly, I thought,—­but I refused.  I had determined to make a desperate attempt at candor, and Abel’s fate was fresh before my eyes.

“My nervous agitation increased during the day, and, after sunset, fearing lest I should betray my excitement in some way, I walked down to the end of the promontory, and took a seat on the rocks.  The sky had cleared, and the air was deliciously cool and sweet.  The Sound was spread out before me like a sea, for the Long-Island shore was veiled in a silvery mist.  My mind was soothed and calmed by the influences of the scene, until the moon arose.  Moonlight, you know, disturbs,—­at least, when one is in love. (Ah, Ned, I see you understand it!) I felt blissfully miserable, ready to cry with joy at the knowledge that I loved, and with fear and vexation at my cowardice, at the same time.

“Suddenly I heard a rustling beside me.  Every nerve in my body tingled, and I turned my head, with a beating and expectant heart.  Pshaw!  It was Miss Ringtop, who spread her blue dress on the rock beside me, and shook back her long curls, and sighed, as she gazed at the silver path of the moon on the water.

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.