Beauty and The Beast, Bayard Taylor [romantic love story reading .txt] 📗

knew it was so easy. Why, there’s a pleasure in it! Try it, Pauline! try it on me!’

“`Oh-ooh!’ was all Miss Ringtop could utter.

“`Abel! Abel!’ exclaimed Hollins, `the beer has got into your head.’

“`No, it isn’t Beer,—it’s Candor!’ said Abel. `It’s your own proposal, Hollins. Suppose it’s evil to swear: isn’t it better I should express it, and be done with it, than keep it bottled up to ferment in my mind? Oh, you’re a precious, consistent old humbug, you are!’

“And therewith he jumped off the stoop, and went dancing awkwardly down towards the water, singing in a most unmelodious voice, `‘Tis home where’er the heart is.’

“`Oh, he may fall into the water!’ exclaimed Eunice, in alarm.

“`He’s not fool enough to do that,’ said Shelldrake. `His head is a little light, that’s all. The air will cool him down presently.’

But she arose and followed him, not satisfied with this assurance. Miss Ringtop sat rigidly still. She would have received with composure the news of his drowning.

“As Eunice’s white dress disappeared among the cedars crowning the shore, I sprang up and ran after her. I knew that Abel was not intoxicated, but simply excited, and I had no fear on his account: I obeyed an involuntary impulse. On approaching the water, I heard their voices—hers in friendly persuasion, his in sentimental entreaty,—then the sound of oars in the row-locks. Looking out from the last clump of cedars, I saw them seated in the boat, Eunice at the stern, while Abel, facing her, just dipped an oar now and then to keep from drifting with the tide. She had found him already in the boat, which was loosely chained to a stone. Stepping on one of the forward thwarts in her eagerness to persuade him to return, he sprang past her, jerked away the chain, and pushed off before she could escape. She would have fallen, but he caught her and placed her in the stern, and then seated himself at the oars. She must have been somewhat alarmed, but there was only indignation in her voice. All this had transpired before my arrival, and the first words I heard bound me to the spot and kept me silent.

“`Abel, what does this mean?’ she asked

“`It means Fate—Destiny!’ he exclaimed, rather wildly. `Ah, Eunice, ask the night, and the moon,—ask the impulse which told you to follow me! Let us be candid like the old Arcadians we imitate. Eunice, we know that we love each other: why should we conceal it any longer? The Angel of Love comes down from the stars on his azure wings, and whispers to our hearts. Let us confess to each other! The female heart should not be timid, in this pure and beautiful atmosphere of Love which we breathe. Come, Eunice! we are alone: let your heart speak to me!’

“Ned, if you’ve ever been in love, (we’ll talk of that after a while,) you will easily understand what tortures I endured, in thus hearing him speak. That HE should love Eunice! It was a profanation to her, an outrage to me. Yet the assurance with which he spoke! COULD she love this conceited, ridiculous, repulsive fellow, after all? I almost gasped for breath, as I clinched the prickly boughs of the cedars in my hands, and set my teeth, waiting to hear her answer.

“`I will not hear such language! Take me back to the shore!’ she said, in very short, decided tones.

“`Oh, Eunice,’ he groaned, (and now, I think he was perfectly sober,) `don’t you love me, indeed? I love you,—from my heart I do: yes, I love you. Tell me how you feel towards me.’

“`Abel,’ said she, earnestly, `I feel towards you only as a friend; and if you wish me to retain a friendly interest in you, you must never again talk in this manner. I do not love you, and I never shall. Let me go back to the house.’

“His head dropped upon his breast, but he rowed back to the shore, drew the bow upon the rocks, and assisted her to land. Then, sitting down, he groaned forth—

“`Oh, Eunice, you have broken my heart!’ and putting his big hands to his face, began to cry.

“She turned, placed one hand on his shoulder, and said in a calm, but kind tone—

“`I am very sorry, Abel, but I cannot help it.’

“I slipped aside, that she might not see me, and we returned by separate paths.

“I slept very little that night. The conviction which I chased away from my mind as often as it returned, that our Arcadian experiment was taking a ridiculous and at the same time impracticable development, became clearer and stronger. I felt sure that our little community could not hold together much longer without an explosion. I had a presentiment that Eunice shared my impressions. My feelings towards her had reached that crisis where a declaration was imperative: but how to make it? It was a terrible struggle between my shyness and my affection. There was another circumstance in connection with this subject, which troubled me not a little. Miss Ringtop evidently sought my company, and made me, as much as possible, the recipient of her sentimental outpourings. I was not bold enough to repel her— indeed I had none of that tact which is so useful in such emergencies,—and she seemed to misinterpret my submission. Not only was her conversation pointedly directed to me, but she looked at me, when singing, (especially, `Thou, thou, reign’st in this bosom!’) in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable. What if Eunice should suspect an attachment towards her, on my part. What if—oh, horror!—I had unconsciously said or done something to impress Miss Ringtop herself with the same conviction? I shuddered as the thought crossed my mind. One thing was very certain: this suspense was not to be endured much longer.

“We had an unusually silent breakfast the next morning. Abel scarcely spoke, which the others attributed to a natural feeling of shame, after his display of the previous evening. Hollins and Shelldrake discussed Temperance, with a special view to his edification, and Miss Ringtop favored us with several quotations about `the maddening bowl,’—but he paid no attention to them. Eunice was pale and thoughtful. I had no doubt in my mind, that she was already contemplating a removal from Arcadia. Perkins, whose perceptive faculties were by no means dull, whispered to me, `Shan’t I bring up some porgies for supper?’ but I shook my head. I was busy with other thoughts, and did not join him in the wood, that day.

“The forenoon was overcast, with frequent showers. Each one occupied his or her room until dinner-time, when we met again with something of the old geniality. There was an evident effort to restore our former flow of good feeling. Abel’s experience with the beer was freely discussed. He insisted strongly that he had not been laboring under its effects, and proposed a mutual test. He, Shelldrake, and Hollins were to drink it in equal measures, and compare observations as to their physical sensations. The others agreed,—quite willingly, I thought,—but I refused. I had determined to make a desperate attempt at candor, and Abel’s fate was fresh before my eyes.

“My nervous agitation increased during the day, and after sunset, fearing lest I should betray my excitement in some way, I walked down to the end of the promontory, and took a seat on the rocks. The sky had cleared, and the air was deliciously cool and sweet. The Sound was spread out before me like a sea, for the Long Island shore was veiled in a silvery mist. My mind was soothed and calmed by the influences of the scene, until the moon arose. Moonlight, you know, disturbs—at least, when one is in love. (Ah, Ned, I see you understand it!) I felt blissfully miserable, ready to cry with joy at the knowledge that I loved, and with fear and vexation at my cowardice, at the same time.

“Suddenly I heard a rustling beside me. Every nerve in my body tingled, and I turned my head, with a beating and expectant heart. Pshaw! It was Miss Ringtop, who spread her blue dress on the rock beside me, and shook back her long curls, and sighed, as she gazed at the silver path of the moon on the water.

“`Oh, how delicious!’ she cried. `How it seems to set the spirit free, and we wander off on the wings of Fancy to other spheres!’

“`Yes,’ said I, `It is very beautiful, but sad, when one is alone.’

“I was thinking of Eunice.

“`How inadequate,’ she continued, `is language to express the emotions which such a scene calls up in the bosom! Poetry alone is the voice of the spiritual world, and we, who are not poets, must borrow the language of the gifted sons of Song. Oh, Enos, I WISH you were a poet! But you FEEL poetry, I know you do. I have seen it in your eyes, when I quoted the burning lines of Adeliza Kelley, or the soul-breathings of Gamaliel J. Gawthrop. In HIM, particularly, I find the voice of my own nature. Do you know his `Night-Whispers?’ How it embodies the feelings of such a scene as this!

“Star-drooping bowers bending down the spaces, And moonlit glories sweep star-footed on; And pale, sweet rivers, in their shining races, Are ever gliding through the moonlit places, With silver ripples on their tranced faces, And forests clasp their dusky hands, with low and sullen moan!’

 

“`Ah!’ she continued, as I made no reply, `this is an hour for the soul to unveil its most secret chambers! Do you not think, Enos, that love rises superior to all conventionalities? that those whose souls are in unison should be allowed to reveal themselves to each other, regardless of the world’s opinions?’

“`Yes!’ said I, earnestly.

“`Enos, do you understand me?’ she asked, in a tender voice—almost a whisper.

“`Yes,’ said I, with a blushing confidence of my own passion.

“`Then,’ she whispered, `our hearts are wholly in unison. I know you are true, Enos. I know your noble nature, and I will never doubt you. This is indeed happiness!’

“And therewith she laid her head on my shoulder, and sighed—

“`Life remits his tortures cruel, Love illumes his fairest fuel, When the hearts that once were dual Meet as one, in sweet renewal!’

 

“`Miss Ringtop!’ I cried, starting away from her, in alarm, `you don’t mean that—that—’

“I could not finish the sentence.

“`Yes, Enos, DEAR Enos! henceforth we belong to each other.’

“The painful embarrassment I felt, as her true meaning shot through my mind, surpassed anything I had imagined, or experienced in anticipation, when planning how I should declare myself to Eunice. Miss Ringtop was at least ten years older than I, far from handsome (but you remember her face,) and so affectedly sentimental, that I, sentimental as I was then, was sick of hearing her talk. Her hallucination was so monstrous, and gave me such a shock of desperate alarm, that I spoke, on the impulse of the moment, with great energy, without regarding how her feelings might be wounded.

“`You mistake!’ I exclaimed. `I didn’t mean that,—I didn’t understand you. Don’t talk to me that way,—don’t look at me in that way, Miss Ringtop! We were never meant for each other—I wasn’t–-You’re so much older—I mean different. It can’t be—no, it can never be! Let us go back to the house: the night is cold.’

“I rose hastily to my feet. She murmured something,—what, I did not stay to hear,—but, plunging through the cedars, was hurrying with all speed to the house, when, half-way up the lawn, beside one of the rocky knobs, I met Eunice, who was apparently on her way to join us.