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قراءة كتاب Who Was She? From "The Atlantic Monthly" for September, 1874
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Who Was She? From "The Atlantic Monthly" for September, 1874
exclaimed. "Your flowers have brought me your messages; I knew I should find you—"
Full of certainty, I was speaking in a low, impassioned voice. She cut me short by rising from her seat; I felt that she was both angry and alarmed. Fisher, of Philadelphia, jostling right and left in his haste, made his way toward her. She fairly snatched his arm, clung to it with a warmth I had never seen expressed in a ballroom, and began to whisper in his ear. It was not five minutes before he came to me, alone, with a very stern face, bent down, and said:
"If you have discovered our secret, you will keep silent. You are certainly a gentleman."
I bowed, coldly and savagely. There was a draught from the open window; my ankle became suddenly weary and painful, and I went to bed. Can you believe that I didn't guess, immediately, what it all meant? In a vague way, I fancied that I had been premature in my attempt to drop our mutual incognito, and that Fisher, a rival lover, was jealous of me. This was rather flattering than otherwise; but when I limped down to the ladies' parlor, the next day, no Miss Danvers was to be seen. I did not venture to ask for her; it might seem importunate, and a woman of so much hidden capacity was evidently not to be wooed in the ordinary way.
So another night passed by; and then, with the morning, came a letter which made me feel, at the same instant, like a fool and a hero. It had been dropped in the Wampsocket post-office, was legibly addressed to me and delivered with some other letters which had arrived by the night mail. Here it is; listen:
been impatient, with the usual result. I was almost prepared
for this, and thus am not wholly disappointed. In a day or
two more you will discover your mistake, which, so far as I
can learn, has done no particular harm. If you wish to find
me, there is only one way to seek me; should I tell you
what it is, I should run the risk of losing you—that is, I
should preclude the manifestation of a certain quality which
I hope to find in the man who may—or—, rather, must—be my
friend. This sounds enigmatical, yet you have read enough of
my nature, as written in those random notes in my sketch-
book, to guess, at least, how much I require. Only this let
me add: mere guessing is useless.
"Being unknown, I can write freely. If you find me, I shall
be justified; if not, I shall hardly need to blush, even to
myself, over a futile experiment.
"It is possible for me to learn enough of your life,
henceforth, to direct my relation toward you. This may be
the end; if so, I shall know it soon. I shall also know
whether you continue to seek me. Trusting in your honor as a
man, I must ask you to trust in mine, as a woman."
I did discover my mistake, as the Unknown promised. There had been a secret betrothal between Fisher and Miss Danvers, and, singularly enough, the momentous question and answer had been given in the very ravine leading to my upper dell! The two meant to keep the matter to themselves; but therein, it seems, I thwarted them; there was a little opposition on the part of their respective families, but all was amicably settled before I left Wampsocket.
The letter made a very deep impression upon me. What was the one way to find her? What could it be but the triumph that follows ambitious toil—the manifestation of all my best qualities as a man? Be she old or young, plain or beautiful, I reflected, hers is surely a nature worth knowing, and its candid intelligence conceals no hazards for me. I have sought her rashly, blundered, betrayed that I set her lower, in my thoughts, than her actual self: let me now adopt the