John Esten Cooke

“ The visitor was Jacques.
He entered with his soft melancholy smile, and approaching Belle-bouche, pressed her hand to his lips.
"I am glad to see you so bright," he said; "but you always look blooming."
And he sat down and gazed around sadly.
Perhaps Jacques had never before so closely resembled a tulip. His coat was red, his waistcoat scarlet, his lace yellow, his stockings white; his shoes, lastly, were adorned with huge rosettes, and his wig was a perfect snow-storm of powder.
Belle-bouche casts down her eyes, and a roseate bloom diffuses itself over her tender cheek. ”

“ Her roseate blush betrayed her.
"If only that bright dream of love could be a reality for me!" he whispered; "if one I love so——"
"Oh, Miss Bel! the girls sent for you—the pyramid is ready!" cried the merry voice of little Martha.
And running toward Belle-bouche, the girl told her that they really must have her in the garden "before the procession commenced."
Poor Jacques drew back groaning.
"There's another chance gone!" he sighed; "what luck I have! I'm always interrupted, and the fates are leagued against me."
Belle-bouche left him with a blush and a smile, and disappeared. ”

“ When he had visited her so often at Shadynook she had invariably worn a number of jewels, and seemed to have taken an idle delight in decorating her person with all the splendor which unlimited wealth places at the command of those who possess it. Now she came like a simple village maiden—like a May-day queen; queen not in virtue of her jewels or her wealth, but for her beauty and simplicity and kindness.
If he had loved her before, poor Mowbray now more than loved her.
All his resolutions melted before her approach, as the iceberg thaws and dissolves beneath the rays of a tropic sky. ”

“ In this vehicle, which mortals were then accustomed to call, and indeed call still, a curricle, sat two young men who were conversing; and as the melancholy Jacques passed on his way, the younger student—for such he was—said, laughing, to his companion:
"Look, Ernest, there is a man in love!"
Mowbray raised his head, and seeing Jacques, smiled sadly and thoughtfully; then his breast moved, and a profound sigh issued from his lips: he made no reply.
"Why!" cried Hoffland, "you have just been guilty, Ernest, of a ceremony which none but a woman should perform. What a sigh!" ”

“ And Jacques raises his eyes to the blushing face of Belle-bouche.
"Is it not fair to think of?" he says sadly.
She tries to smile, and can only murmur, "Yes."
"I fear it is but a dream," says Jacques.
She does not reply: she wishes a moment to collect her thoughts and regain her calmness.
"A dream," he continues, "which many poor fellows dream, and live in, and make a reality of—alas! never to be realized."
"Perhaps the world has changed since the old Arcadian days," murmurs Belle-bouche, gazing down with rosy cheeks, and a bad attempt at ease. "You know the earth has become different." ”

“ The Doctor nodded with a benevolent smile, and restored his handkerchief to the pocket of his long, heavy, flapped coat.
"Why, sir," said Jacques, "there is a very beautiful young lady in the immediate vicinity of town, who has smiled on Tom perhaps as many as three times; and would you believe it, sir, the infatuated youth thinks she is in love with him."
"Ah! ah!" smiled the Doctor; "a mere youthful folly."
"She cares not one pinch of snuff for him," said Jacques, "and he believes that she is dying for him." ”

“ I should know perfectly well that her smile was the untrue manœuvre of a coquette. Ah! Charles! Charles! may you never know what it is to see a false smile in woman—cold and chilling—the glitter of sunlight upon snow. It is worse than frowns!"
"Ernest, you are a strange person," said Hoffland; "you seem determined to misjudge this young girl, who is not as bad as you think her, my life upon it! So, frown or smile, you are determined to hate her?" ”

“ Shadynook, thanks to the active exertions of Belle-bouche and Philippa, was one bower of roses and other flowers. All the windows were festooned with them—the tables were great pyramids of wreaths; and out upon the lawn the blossoms from the trees showered down upon the animated throng, and made the children laugh—for many little girls were there—and snowing on the cavaliers, made them like heralds of the spring; and lying on the earth, a rosy velvet carpet, almost made the old poetic fiction true, and gave the damsels of the laughing crowd an opportunity to walk "ankle-deep in flowers." ”

“ A slight color comes to her bright cheek, for it is impossible to misunderstand his eloquent glance.
"Are you?" she says; "but that is wrong. Fie on't! Was ever Corydon really in love with his Chloe—or are his affections always confined to the fluttering ribbons, and the crook, wreathed with flowers, which make her a pleasant object only, like a picture?"
Jacques sighs.
"I am not a Corydon," he says, "much less have I a Chloe—at least, who treats me as Chloes should treat their faithful shepherds. My Chloe runs away when I approach, and her crook turns into a shadow which I grasp in vain at. ”

“ Mowbray will return home this evening, and after tea he will say to his sister, 'I have a new friend at college, Lucy—the handsomest, brightest, most amiable and fascinating youth I ever saw.' You see he will call me a 'youth;' possibly this may excite Miss Lucy's curiosity, and she will ask more about me; and then Mowbray will of course expatiate on my various and exalted merits, as every warm-hearted man does when he speaks of his friends. Then Miss Lucy will imagine for herself a beau ideal of grace, elegance, beauty, intelligence and wit, far more than human. ”

“ CHAPTER II. JACQUES SHOWS THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING LED CAPTIVE BY A CROOK.
It was a delicious day, such a day as the month of flowers alone can bring into the world, and all nature seemed to be rejoicing. The peach and cherry blossoms shone like snow upon the budding trees, the oriole shot from elm to elm, a ball of fire against a background of blue and emerald, and from every side came the murmuring flow of streamlets, dancing in the sun and filling the whole landscape with their joyous music. ”

“ Now let us stop speaking of these things. When I think of that young girl, all my calmness leaves me. Oh, she was so frank and true a soul, I thought!—so sincere and bold!—so lovely, and with such a strength of heart! I was deceived. Well, well—it seems to be the fate of men, to find the ideal of their hearts unworthy. Let us speak of it no further."
And suppressing his emotion by a violent effort, Mowbray added in a voice perfectly calm and collected:
"There is our cottage, Charles—Roseland; and I see Lucy waiting for us under the roses on the porch—she always looks for me, I believe." ”

“ Its melting involutions and expiring cadences unwound themselves and floated from her lips like satin ribbon gradually drawn out.
As for Jacques, he was in a dream; one might have supposed that his nerves were steeped in the liquid melody—or at times, when he started, that the music came over him like a shower bath of perfume.
His sighs would have conciliated tigers; and when she turned and smiled on him, he almost staggered.
"Now," said Belle-bouche smiling softly, "suppose I sing something a little merrier. You know the minuet always gives place to the reel." ”