An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West. Rice Alfred Ernest
smile.
“Don’t touch the portieres, Sam! Sam!” she exclaimed in alarm, but her command was unheeded, and Sam spread them wide apart, much to his aunt’s consternation.
No one being behind the portiere, she appeared amazed, but quickly recovering her composure, continued:
“Dear me! How very strange! Oh, yes, I forgot. She has gone to the conservatory.” Then she muttered in low tones:
“Now I have said it, and she told me not to tell.”
“Well, I’m off to the conservatory, too – eh, Auntie! Don’t follow me,” and he strode toward the piazza.
“Sam! Sam! Remain here. I have something to say to you.”
“Well, be quick, Auntie. You know I am crazy to see her. Eh! I guess so.”
“‘Crazy!’ Well, remember the least display of rudeness or unseemly eagerness will be promptly met with a frown of displeasure.”
“Auntie, she’s finer than the petals of a rose.”
“But, like a rose, too, she is just as sensitive,” cautioned Mrs. Harris, as she majestically moved over to the mantel – and then she abruptly turned, at a fresh thought. “Sam, for the sake of our social prestige – for my own hope that your affection shall be reciprocated” —
“Love, Auntie!” interrupted Sam. “That’s the word. It’s short and to the point. Eh?”
Quite undisturbed by the interruption, she continued: “And for the supreme pleasure it would afford me to see the house of Harris united to the house of Thorpe, I desire that you give me an example of the manner you intend to approach Virginia.”
The idea appeared so grotesque to Sam that he gave a slight inclination of his head, a habit he had somehow acquired in the “Desert,” and exclaimed in startled emphasis: “Ea-Ah! How?”
“By addressing me as you would her.”
With a smile broadening his face and a roguish twinkle of the eye, he exclaimed: “Can’t be done, Auntie! You ain’t the real thing. Can’t work up any excitement over a counterfeit.”
“Sam! It grieves me to say that I fear for your success. Her rejection of your suit would mean humiliation for us. Therefore I insist that you remember what I have told you and address Virginia as I shall instruct you.”
Sam was too shrewd to oppose his aunt’s determination – a previous experience having taught him the desirability of quietly agreeing with her notions, so with a smile of acquiescence he answered:
“All right, Auntie! Fire away.”
Drawing herself up in a stately pose, she passed to the end of the room, turned, and again faced him. “Now, Sam, I request you to impress upon your memory every word I utter, so that you may salute your lady-love in a similar manner. Do you comprehend?”
“I think so, Auntie,” and thereupon thrust his hands in his trouser pockets.
“Sam, remove your hands from your pockets. It is neither good form nor in accordance with polite usage, for a gentleman to bury his hands in his trouser pockets, when in the presence of a lady.”
“All right, Auntie!” and he grinned broadly as he removed the offending hands.
With a most affable smile, yet maintaining a dignified carriage, she advanced down the room, halted midway, and gracefully bowed, then continuing, extended her hand, which Sam took. She again bowed and carried his hand to her lips; then taking both his hands in hers and looking straight into his eyes, smiled and said:
“I am delighted to have the honor of congratulating Miss Thorpe on her safe return.” She then released his hands and proceeded across the room.
“Is that all?” came from Sam, in a burst of dismay.
Mrs. Harris turned sharply and emphatically exclaimed: “Yes, Sam. In your conversation with Virginia beware of gushing familiarity. Nothing to my mind is more likely to jeopardize your suit than absurd vulgarity.” So saying, she again turned and proceeded toward the door.
“Auntie, I can do better than that. Why, you left out the best part.” And his eyes twinkled mischieviously, while a laugh on his face was suppressed with difficulty.
She turned quickly, and in much surprise exclaimed: “Dear me! I didn’t know it. What is it?”
“I will show you.” With that Sam passed to the end of the room and turned. “Now, Auntie, I’ll try to think that you are my sweetheart, Virginia.”
Smiling, he proceeded down the room, halted midway, bowed and then continued toward his aunt, took her right hand, clasped it between his two, and looked into her eyes. He then raised her hand to his left shoulder and while he held it there, pressed her waist with his right arm – “I am delighted to welcome you home again.” Pressing her closer to him – “Believe me – I – I can never forget – that I – I,” – then he became absent-minded and, to save himself, suddenly blurted out – “I love you – there!” And he kissed her lips and embraced her vigorously. Then, with a whirl, he released her, laughing as he did so, and exclaimed: “Ah ha! I guess so, eh, Auntie?”
Mrs. Harris recovered herself, in the middle of the room, and gasped out: “Oh, dear! What a shock. I am sure I am twisted all out of shape.”
Sam stood with a satisfied grin on his face, and thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, and watched her. “That was love! The real thing – eh, Auntie!”
“Dear me,” she exclaimed, between her labored breathing. “I was never treated to anything so rude in my life. Your arm, Sam. Assist me to the piazza. I must have more air.”
“Auntie, you wait till I try it on Virginia. Oh, my! Eh!”
Meanwhile a little scene was being enacted in the conservatory, destined to produce the gravest consequences to others than those directly concerned. After examining the rare plants, Mrs. Thorpe and My Lord had passed out to an attractive bed of massed chrysanthemums, fringed with geraniums, then in full flower – leaving Hazel and Corway alone.
Propitious fate again granted him the opportunity he so ardently desired.
They were looking at some violet buds, concealed by giant Canna leaves and a profusion of palms, when there passed through the girl’s frame one of those mysterious thrills – which man designates magnetic, but which Providence has really made inscrutable to the human understanding.
“I wonder,” she faintly exclaimed, and slowly turning her head – their lips met.
Though stolen, it was delicately done – one of those exquisite little gems of cause and effect, which naturally happen to true sweethearts.
They stood looking at each other in surprised silence.
“I did not grant you that privilege,” at length broke from Hazel, in a faltering manner – her cheeks flushing and her soft blue eyes dancing.
“I could not resist the temptation,” and taking her two hands in his, added: “Hazel, I love you! Will you be mine?”
“Why, Mr. Corway!” replied the maid, disengaging herself.
She spoke and acted quietly, while a bewitching smile shone in her eyes.
At that moment, unnoticed by them, a shadow suddenly darkened the doorway. It did not tarry long, and swiftly disappeared.
Unseen herself, Virginia had entered the conservatory, her footfalls as light as her joyous young heart, the happiest of the happy.
Hearing that voice, she had paused, then gently parted some leaves and – the smile died on her lips.
She stood for a moment like one transfixed, listening in an amazed wonder, then, undiscovered, she silently withdrew into deeper foliage.
“Why draw away from me, Hazel?” went on Corway.
“Because! You may not be sincere!” replied the girl, shyly.
“Not