Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

76 Defeated. © “Well, upon my word, she is a queer crea- ture—a relief, however, from that milk-and- water Calvert.” Miss Calvert, all smiles, was waiting for him to conclude the conversation they had been carrying on when Letty arrived; but he had no desire to partake asecond time of the same dish, so.-he adroitly kept her at bay, by mak- ing the most commonplace remarks, and thus passing the half hour that intervened between that and Letty’s appearance. Letty King was as incapable of anything like art as a child, and Ralph understood her as readily as he did Miss Calvert. She came down in a neat, plain muslin, her black curls hanging in rich profusion upon her plump white shoulders. She was very pretty; a sweet, child mouth, a short, saucy upper lip, low brow, and a clear, blooming complexion. But her eyes were the chief charm; a soft, dark gray, as clear as crystal; and when she looked at any one, she seemed to be trying to read their inmost thoughts, so intent and Searching was her gaze. “Well, Miss Letty, here you are at last. How did you enjoy your ride ?” “O, ever so much, Florence. Bessie was in gay spirits, and we came over the road ata tremendous rate. There are plenty of shag- barks just over the hi in the back pasture. I mean to go and get some one day this week. Will you go ?” “ Delighted !” “ May I go?” asked Ralph. “No. Who would entertain Agnes? She never goes on such harum-scarum excursions, and I don’t blame her. I would not if I could help it. I can't; for these rides and long tramps have become my second nature, and I could no more live without them than without food. I do not expect everybody to be like me.” “I should hope not, Letty. One like you in a community is quite enough,” sighed Agnes. “Am I dreadful, Florence 2” “Yes, Letty, I suppose you are.” Ralph Ingraham, woman-hater though he was, could not help feeling a strange interest in the saucy, independent little creature, sit- ting there so unaffected and careless, as though he was just nobody at all, only looking at him now and then with her gray, searching eyes, talking quietly with Florence, or care- fully looking over the book which Miss Cal- vert had thrown aside. It was autumn, and all nature was clad in gorgeous robes of scarlet, brown and gold. Trees, that a few weeks before had worn their dress of living green, now stood out clear against the bright sky, clothed in robes of brightest hues. Ralph was an early riser, and the next morning ,he stood upon the piazza, watching the sun as it rose from behind the mountain, flooding the bright world with its golden light until every leaf and blade of grass quivered in its glad joy. It was very quiet 5 not asound to be heard about the house; and Ralph thought, “ Well, I shall at least be free from my tormentor for a few hours each day; for I dare say she would not leave her com- fortable bed for a thousand such sights as this. I hope not, at least.” Suddenly he descried a little brown figure down by the hedge, leaning carelessly upon her arms, her black curls dancing in the morning breeze, her gray eyes all aglow with the beauty before her, and he had not the will to resist, and in a moment he was by her side. ‘You are an early riser, I see, Letty.” “Yes. I would not miss the glorious sun- rise for a good deal. It is my life. Don’t you love it?” “Yes; and this is the first American sun- rise I have seen for many a year.” “You have been travelling a long while, have you not?” , v6 Yes.” “O,I would give so much to have been with you. This world is so full of beauty!” And Letty drew a long breath, and the oray eyes lighted with a brilliancy that caused Ralph to gaze with wonder and admiration. “Do you play, Letty ?” “Yes. What made you ask ?” “Because I saw worlds of music in your eyes then. Will you come in and play for me ?” “Yes.” And she followed him up to the house. Ralph threw open the window, and let in the warm sunlight, and then opened the piano for her, and sat down and waited for her ta begin., It was a treat, even fora refined ear like his, to listen to the soul music she drew from the instrument; music like herself, like the bright morning; and he listened entranced until she ceased. “There, the inspiration’s flown. I can play no more now. If I did, you would not like ag “ How do you know I like it any way ?” “As you learned of my playing. I see it in your eyes.” connicloooks.com