Not a member?     Existing members login below:

Love After Marriage


LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE,
Page
17
THE VICTIM OF EXCITEMENT,
40
THE BLIND GIRL'S STORY,
63
THE PARLOUR SERPENT,
81
THE SHAKER GIRL,
104
A RAINY EVENING,
127
THREE SCENES IN THE LIFE OF A BELLE,
135
THE FATAL COSMETIC,
151
THE ABYSSINIAN NEOPHYTE,
175
THE VILLAGE ANTHEM,
197
THE BOSOM SERPENT,
210
MY GRANDMOTHER'S BRACELET,
234
THE MYSTERIOUS RETICULE,
247
17
LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE.
A stranger was ushered into the parlour, where two young ladies were seated, one
bonneted and shawled, evidently a morning visiter, the other in a fashionable
undress, as evidently a daughter or inmate of the mansion. The latter rose with a
slight inclination of the head, and requested the gentleman to take a chair. "Was Mr.
Temple at home?" "No! but he was expected in directly." The young ladies
exchanged mirthful glances, as the stranger drew nearer, and certainly his
extraordinary figure might justify a passing sensation of mirth, if politeness and
good feeling had restrained its expression. His extreme spareness and the livid hue
of his complexion indicated recent illness, and as he was apparently young, the
almost total baldness of his head was probably owing to the same cause. His lofty
forehead was above the green shade that covered his eyes in unshadowed majesty,
unrelieved by a single lock of hair, and the lower part of his face assumed a still
more cadaverous hue, from the reflection of the green colour above. There was
something inexpressibly forlorn and piteous in his whole appearance,
notwithstanding an air of gentlemanly dignity pervaded his melancholy person. He
drew forth his pocket-book, and taking out a folded paper, was about to present it to
Miss Temple, who, drawing back with a suppressed laugh, said—"A petition, sir, I
suppose?"—then added in a low whisper to her companio n—"the poor fellow is
perhaps getting up a subscription for a wig." The whisper was very low, but the
stranger's shaded though penetrating eyes were fixed upon her face, and the motion
of her lips assisted him in a knowledge of their sound; he replaced
18
the paper in his pocket-book—"I am no petitioner for your bounty, madam," said he,
in a voice, whose sweetness fell like a reproach on her ear, "nor have I any claims on
your compassion, save being a stranger and an invalid. I am the bearer of a letter to
your father, from a friend of his youth, who, even on his death -bed, remembered
him with gratitude and affection; will you have the goodness to present to him my
name and direction?"
Remove