Put Yourself in His Place [98]
life till now. How could I? I never saw Death nor Danger near enough to be worth a straw."
Jael made no attempt to arrest this flow of spirits. She waited quietly for a single pause, and then she laid her hand on the young lady's, and, fastening her eyes on her, she said quietly,--
"You have seen HIM."
Grace Carden's face was scarlet in a moment, and she looked with a rueful imploring glance, into those great gray searching eyes of Jael Dence.
Her fine silvery tones of eloquence went off into a little piteous whine "You are very cunning--to believe in a magpie." And she hid her blushing face in her hands. She took an early opportunity of sending this too sagacious rustic to bed.
Next day Mr. Coventry was so stiff and sore he did not come down to breakfast. But Grace Carden, though very sleepy, made her appearance, and had a most affectionate conversation with Mr. Raby. She asked leave to christen him again. I must call you something, you know, after all this. Mr. Raby is cold. Godpapa is childish. What do you say to--'Uncle'?"
He said he should be delighted. Then she dipped her forefinger in water. He drew back with horror.
"Come, young lady," said he, "I know it is an age of burlesque. But let us spare the sacraments, and the altar, and such trifles."
"I am not half so wicked as you think," said Grace. Then she wrote "Uncle" on his brow, and so settled that matter.
Mr. Coventry came down about noon, and resumed his courtship. He was very tender, spoke of the perils they had endured together as an additional tie, and pressed his suit with ardor.
But he found a great change in the lady.
Yesterday, on Cairnhope Peak, she was passive, but soft and complying. To-day she was polite, but cool, and as slippery as an eel. There was no pinning her.
And, at last, she said, "The fact is I'm thinking of our great preservation, and more inclined to pray than flirt, for once."
"And so am I," said the man of tact; "but what I offer is a sacred and life-long affection."
"Oh, of course."
"A few hours ago you did me the honor to listen to me. You even hinted I might speak to your father."
"No, no. I only asked if you HAD spoken to him."
"I will not contradict you. I will trust to your own candor. Dear Grace, tell me, have I been so unfortunate as to offend you since then?"
"No."
"Have I lost your respect?"
"Oh, no."
"Have I forfeited your good opinion?"
"Dear me, no." (A little pettishly.)
"Then how is it that I love you better, if possible, than yesterday, and you seem not to like me so well as yesterday?"
"One is not always in the same humor."
"Then you don't like me to-day?"
"Oh yes, but I do. And I shall always like you: if you don't tease me, and urge me too much. It is hardly fair to hurry me so; I am only a girl, and girls make such mistakes sometimes."
"That is true; they marry on too short an acquaintance. But you have known me more than two years, and, in all that time, have I once given you reason to think that you had a rival in my admiration, my love?"
"I never watched you to see. But all that time you have certainly honored me with your attention, and I do believe you love me more than I deserve. Please do not be angry: do not be mortified. There is no occasion; I am resolved not to marry until I am of age; that is all; and where's the harm of that?"
"I will wait your pleasure; all I ask you, at present, is to relieve me of my fears, by engaging yourself to me."
"Ah! but I have always been warned against long engagements."
"Long engagements! Why, how old are you, may I ask?"
"Only nineteen. Give me a little time to think."
"If I wait till you are of age, THAT WILL BE TWO YEARS."
"Just about. I was nineteen on the 12th of December. What is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing. A sudden twinge. A man does not get rolled over sharp rocks, by a mountain torrent, for nothing."
"No, indeed."
"Never mind that, if I'm not to be punished in my heart as well. This resolution, not to marry for two years,
Jael made no attempt to arrest this flow of spirits. She waited quietly for a single pause, and then she laid her hand on the young lady's, and, fastening her eyes on her, she said quietly,--
"You have seen HIM."
Grace Carden's face was scarlet in a moment, and she looked with a rueful imploring glance, into those great gray searching eyes of Jael Dence.
Her fine silvery tones of eloquence went off into a little piteous whine "You are very cunning--to believe in a magpie." And she hid her blushing face in her hands. She took an early opportunity of sending this too sagacious rustic to bed.
Next day Mr. Coventry was so stiff and sore he did not come down to breakfast. But Grace Carden, though very sleepy, made her appearance, and had a most affectionate conversation with Mr. Raby. She asked leave to christen him again. I must call you something, you know, after all this. Mr. Raby is cold. Godpapa is childish. What do you say to--'Uncle'?"
He said he should be delighted. Then she dipped her forefinger in water. He drew back with horror.
"Come, young lady," said he, "I know it is an age of burlesque. But let us spare the sacraments, and the altar, and such trifles."
"I am not half so wicked as you think," said Grace. Then she wrote "Uncle" on his brow, and so settled that matter.
Mr. Coventry came down about noon, and resumed his courtship. He was very tender, spoke of the perils they had endured together as an additional tie, and pressed his suit with ardor.
But he found a great change in the lady.
Yesterday, on Cairnhope Peak, she was passive, but soft and complying. To-day she was polite, but cool, and as slippery as an eel. There was no pinning her.
And, at last, she said, "The fact is I'm thinking of our great preservation, and more inclined to pray than flirt, for once."
"And so am I," said the man of tact; "but what I offer is a sacred and life-long affection."
"Oh, of course."
"A few hours ago you did me the honor to listen to me. You even hinted I might speak to your father."
"No, no. I only asked if you HAD spoken to him."
"I will not contradict you. I will trust to your own candor. Dear Grace, tell me, have I been so unfortunate as to offend you since then?"
"No."
"Have I lost your respect?"
"Oh, no."
"Have I forfeited your good opinion?"
"Dear me, no." (A little pettishly.)
"Then how is it that I love you better, if possible, than yesterday, and you seem not to like me so well as yesterday?"
"One is not always in the same humor."
"Then you don't like me to-day?"
"Oh yes, but I do. And I shall always like you: if you don't tease me, and urge me too much. It is hardly fair to hurry me so; I am only a girl, and girls make such mistakes sometimes."
"That is true; they marry on too short an acquaintance. But you have known me more than two years, and, in all that time, have I once given you reason to think that you had a rival in my admiration, my love?"
"I never watched you to see. But all that time you have certainly honored me with your attention, and I do believe you love me more than I deserve. Please do not be angry: do not be mortified. There is no occasion; I am resolved not to marry until I am of age; that is all; and where's the harm of that?"
"I will wait your pleasure; all I ask you, at present, is to relieve me of my fears, by engaging yourself to me."
"Ah! but I have always been warned against long engagements."
"Long engagements! Why, how old are you, may I ask?"
"Only nineteen. Give me a little time to think."
"If I wait till you are of age, THAT WILL BE TWO YEARS."
"Just about. I was nineteen on the 12th of December. What is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing. A sudden twinge. A man does not get rolled over sharp rocks, by a mountain torrent, for nothing."
"No, indeed."
"Never mind that, if I'm not to be punished in my heart as well. This resolution, not to marry for two years,