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A Love Story Reversed 1898 By: Edward Bellamy (1850-1898) |
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By Edward Bellamy 1898
I The golden hands of the parlor clock point glimmeringly to an hour
after midnight, and the house is still. The gas is turned almost out,
but the flickering of the dying sea coal fire in the grate fitfully
illumines the forms and faces of two young women, who are seated before
it, talking earnestly in low tones. It is apparent from their costumes
that they have been spending the evening out. The fair girl in the low chair, gazing pensively into the fire, is Maud
Elliott, the daughter of the house. Not generally called handsome, her
features are good and well balanced, and her face is altogether a sweet
and wholesome one. She is rather tall, and the most critical admit
that she has a fine figure. Her eyes are blue, and their clear, candid
expression indicates an unusually sincere and simple character. But,
unfortunately, it is only her friends who are fully conversant with the
expression of her eyes, for she is very shy. Shyness in little people
is frequently piquant, but its effect in girls of the Juno style is too
often that of awkwardness. Her friends call Maud Elliott stately; those
who do not like her call her stiff; while indifferent persons speak of
her as rather too reserved and dignified in manner to be pleasing. In
fact, her excess of dignity is merely the cloak of her shyness, and
nobody knows better than she that there is too much of it. Those
who know her at all well know that she is not dull, but with mere
acquaintances she often passes for that. Only her intimate friends are
aware what wit and intelligence, what warmth and strength of feeling,
her coldness when in company conceals. No one better understands this, because no one knows her better or
has known her longer, than her present companion before the fire, Lucy
Mer ritt. They were roommates and bosom friends at boarding school; and
Lucy, who recently has been married, is now on her first visit to her
friend since that event. She is seated on a hassock, with her hands
clasped over her knees, looking up at Maud, an attitude well suited
to her petite figure. She is going home on the morrow, or rather on
the day already begun; and this fact, together with the absorbing nature
of the present conversation, accounts for the lateness of the session. "And so, Maud," she is saying, while she regards her friend with an
expression at once sympathetic and amused, "and so that is what has
been making your letters so dismal lately. I fancied that nothing less
could suggest such melancholy views of life. The truth is, I came
on this visit as much as anything to find out about him. He is a
good looking fellow, certainly; and, from what little chance I had
to form an opinion to night, seems sensible enough to make it quite
incredible that he should not be in love with such a girl in a thousand
as you. Are you quite sure he is n't?" "You had a chance to judge to night," replied Maud, with a hard little
laugh. "You overheard our conversation. 'Good evening, Miss Elliott;
jolly party, is n't it?' That was all he had to say to me, and quite
as much as usual. Of course we are old acquaintances, and he 's always
pleasant and civil: he couldn't be anything else; but he wastes mighty
little time on me. I don't blame him for preferring other girls'
society. He would show very little taste if he did not enjoy Ella
Perry's company better than that of a tongue tied thing like me. She is
a thousand times prettier and wittier and more graceful than I am." "Nonsense," exclaimed Lucy. "She is a flirt and a conceited little minx.
She is not to be mentioned the same day with you; and he would think so,
if he could only get to know you. But how in the world is he ever going
to? Why, you seem to be shyer than ever, poor dear. You were actually
distant, almost chilling, in your manner towards him to night, although
I know you didn't mean to be." "I know it. Don't I know it!" groaned Maud. "I always am shyer and
stiffer with him than with any one else... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Literature |
Short stories |
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