Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 3 September 1848. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
was amazingly happy to have been one of the fortunate few to whose lot such a man falls.
And now, indeed, she wrote a long, long letter to Augusta – so full of happiness, describing Hazlewood, as she thought, so distinctly, that Augusta must recognize him at once – so she concluded by saying,
"And now I need not name him, as you must know who I mean."
"I must know who she means!" said Augusta, much perplexed. "Why I am sure I cannot imagine who she means! Talented, agreeable, with cultivated tastes! Who can it be? 'Not handsome, but very gentlemanlike-looking.' Well, I have no idea who it is – I certainly cannot know the man. But as we sail next week, I shall be at home in time for the wedding. How odd that I should be really her bridemaid in May after all!"
Miss Lenox arrived about two months after Angila's engagement had been announced, and found her friend brilliant with happiness. After the first exclamations and greetings, Augusta said with impatient curiosity,
"But who is it, Angila – you never told me?"
"But surely you guessed at once," said Angila, incredulously.
"No, indeed," replied her friend, earnestly, "I have not the most distant idea."
"Why, Robert Hazlewood, to be sure!"
"Robert Hazlewood! Oh, Angila! You are jesting," exclaimed her friend, thrown quite off her guard by astonishment.
"Yes, indeed!" replied Angila, with eager delight, attributing Augusta's surprise and incredulous tones to quite another source. "You may well be surprised, Augusta. Is it not strange that such a man – one of his superior talents – should have fallen in love with such a mad-cap as me."
Augusta could hardly believe her ears. But the truth was, that Angila had so long since forgotten her prejudice, founded on nothing, against Hazlewood, that she was not conscious now that she had ever entertained any such feelings. She was not obliged, in common phrase, to "eat her own words," for she quite forgot that she had ever uttered them. And now, with the utmost enthusiasm, she entered into all her plans and prospects – told Augusta, with the greatest interest, as if she thought the theme must be equally delightful to her friend – all her mother's long story about the old Hazlewoods, and what a "charming nice family they were," ("those pattern people that she hated so," as Augusta remembered, but all of which was buried in the happiest oblivion with Angila,) and the dear little house that was being furnished like a bijou next to Mrs. Constant's, (next to Mrs. Constant's! – one of those small houses with low ceilings! Augusta gasped;) and how many servants she was going to keep; and what a nice young girl she had engaged already as waiter.
"You mean, then, to have a woman waiter?" Augusta could not help saying.
"Oh, to be sure!" said Angila. "What should I do with a man in such a pretty little establishment as I mean to have. And then you know we must be economical – Mr. Hazlewood is a young lawyer, and I don't mean to let him slave himself to make the two ends meet. You'll see what a nice economical little housekeeper I'll be."
And, in short, Augusta found that the same bright, warm imagination that had made Angila once dream of Ossian-heroes, now endowed Robert Hazlewood with every charm she wanted, and even threw a romantic glow over a small house, low ceilings, small economies, and all but turned the woman-servant into a man. Cinderella's godmother could hardly have done more. Such is the power of love!
"Well," said Augusta, in talking it all over with her brother, "I cannot comprehend it yet; Angila, who used to be so fastidious, so critical, who expected so much in the man she was to marry!"
"She is not the first young lady who has come down from her pedestal," replied her brother, laughing.
"No, but she has not," returned Augusta, "that's the oddest part of the whole – she has only contrived somehow to raise Hazlewood on a pedestal, too. You'd think they were the only couple in the world going to be married. She's actually in love with him, desperately in love with him; and it was only just before I went to New Orleans that she said – "
"My dear," interrupted her mother, "there's no subject on which women change their minds oftener than on this. Love works wonders – indeed, the only miracles left in the world are of his creation."
"But she used to wonder at Mary Morton's liking him, mamma."
"Ah, my dear," replied her mother, "that was when he was attentive to Mary Morton and not her. It makes a wonderful difference when the thing becomes personal. And if you really love Angila, my dear, you will forget, or at least not repeat, what she said six months before marriage."
A NEW ENGLAND LEGEND
"God's blessing on the bonny barque!" the gallant seamen cried,
As with her snowy sails outspread she cleft the yielding tide —
"God's blessing on the bonny barque!" cried the landsmen from the shore,
As with a swallow's rapid flight she skimmed the waters o'er.
Oh never from the good old Bay, a fairer ship did sail,
Or in more trim and brave array did court the favoring gale.
Cheerily sung the marinere as he climbed the high, high mast,
The mast that was made of the Norway pine, that scorned the mountain-blast.
But brave Mark Edward dashed a tear in secret from his eye,
As he saw green Trimount dimmer grow against the distant sky,
And fast before the gathering breeze his noble vessel fly.
Oh, youth will cherish many a hope, and many a fond desire,
And nurse in secret in the heart the hidden altar-fire!
And though young Mark Edward trode his deck with footstep light and free,
Yet a shadow was on his manly brow as his good ship swept the sea;
A shadow was on his manly brow as he marked the fading shore,
And the faint line of the far green hills where dwelt his loved Lenore.
Merrily sailed the bonny barque toward her destined port,
And the white waves curled around her prow as if in wanton sport.
Merrily sailed the bonny barque till seven days came and past,
When her snowy canvas shivered and rent before the northern blast,
And out of her course, and away, away, careered she wild and fast.
Black lowered the heavens, loud howled the winds, as the gallant barque drove on,
"God save her from the stormy seas," prayed the sailors every one,
But hither and thither the mad winds bore her, careening wildly on.
Oh, a fearful thing is the mighty wind as it raves the land along,
And the forests rock beneath the shock of the fierce blasts and the strong,
But when the wild and angry waves come rushing on their prey,
And to and fro the good ship reels with the wind's savage play,
Oh! then it is more fearful far in that frail barque to be,
At the mercy of the wind and wave, alone upon the sea.
Mark Edward's eye grew stern and calm as day by day went on,
And farther from the destined port the gallant barque was borne.
From her tall masts the sails were rent, yet fast and far she flew,
But whither she drove there knew not one among her gallant crew,
Nor the captain, nor the marineres, not one among them knew.
Now there had come and past away full many weary days,
And each looked in each other's face with sad and blank amaze,
For ghastly Famine's bony hand was stretched to clutch his prey,
And