The Argosy — page 198: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

154 Cyril Trevor's Wood-Nymph. Such a start! Such a blush! It rose over her eyebrows ; flooded the sun-burned neck; affected, I verily believe, the tiny feet them- selves. Her shyness conquered mine. I longed to set her more at ease. ' Mademoiselle! Pardon me. I would not have presumed to make my presence known, had it not been for this misfortune,” said I, respectfully, pointing to the self-constituted boat steadily approach- ing the centre. _ The Nymph hid her face. “Will you permit me to attempt the rescue?” I persisted, deter- mined to hear her speak. ‘Qh sir, have pity! I thought I was alone. If you can assist me, pray do so!” she answered, striving to conceal her tears. . Poor little thing! Decidedly that sabot must be obtained. “If Mademoiselle would kindly aid me by throwing stones from her side, so as to drive the shoe towards the shore,” I suggested, ignoring her distress. Dashing her hand across her eyes, the girl immediately set about collecting missiles, which were then flung by my directions—at first badly ; but, gradually regaining confidence, her aim improved, and, to my great joy, forgetting in the excitement all the disagreeable atten- dant circumstances, her clear laugh rang through the fragrant air, each peal re-echoing within my heart. Here was a revelation. In all my life, a perfectly natural girl, at the same time perfectly well bred, had never crossed my path. Hundreds of pretty damsels had walked, danced, and posed before me for the sake of Trevorhurst, but never one whose grace had not been cultivated, made to order; whose smile was not a languid elongation of the lip. On the other hand the frank abruptness of the country lasses was no better; loud voices from charming women jar upon my nerves ; so that between this Scylla and Charybdis, I be- came a man whose books and horses represented to him the only pleasures in life. Now, to upset these crude ideas, came a maiden, with bare feet gleaming through the moss, over whose entire person sweet modesty had thrown her veil. If but the mind equalled the appearance in simplicity, my uncle’s wish would not seem so hard to gratify. | Meanwhile, the would-be boat drifted nearer to the land, and having by means of a long stick obtained possession of it, I dried it in my handkerchief before surrendering it to the owner, who dared not raise her eyes to aid her faltering thanks. Feigning not to observe how the sabots were resumed, I occupied myself in gathering up the ferns strewn upon the bank, talking incessantly. I told her how the autumn tints had charmed me, so that town life faded into insignifi- cance before the freedom of the uplands, and as I praised, a bond of sympathy sprang up between us, and we chattered like two old familiar friends. ECOMICOOOKS.CO @