Summary

Robert Grant A Romantic Young Lady

Roger and I, alternately silent with bliss or overflowing with the rapture of the heart's language, strolled arm in arm along the moonlit shores far into the night.
Only one incident marred our content. "Virginia," said Roger suddenly, "what will your father say?"
My father! I had never thought of him. So absorbing had been the consciousness that Roger Dale loved me and I returned his love, that every other consideration was blotted from my mind.
"Not to-night. We will not talk of that to-night. Let me be happy while I can," I cried, pressing his arm with feverish fondness.
Source: Gutenberg

Robert Grant A Romantic Young Lady

V. The effect on a woman of the revelation that she loves him who has proffered her his heart, is like the awakening of buds in spring, which beneath the soft mysterious breath of an invisible power burst their bonds with graceful reluctance, and shyly gladden Nature.
It seemed to me as if I had never lived before. Unlike the untutored passion of my extreme youth, my happiness was calm and reflective, but none the less satisfying. Under its sway I found it a comparatively easy task to overcome the querulousness and revive the hopes of Aunt Helen on my return home.
Source: Gutenberg

Robert Grant A Romantic Young Lady

I have no doubt the poor fellow wears over his heart every rose-bud you ever gave him, and knows by rote every word of sympathy you ever said to him. And then that portrait,—what volumes it tells of itself! Fancy that ardent soul toiling over the canvas to reproduce from memory your image (you tell me you did not sit to him) , and when the masterpiece of his life was finished, inviting you to his studio (as I suppose he did) , and then in a moment of deep and passionate love casting himself at your feet—and—and forgetting himself!
Source: Gutenberg

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