10. X.
HONORIA BRAND.
Innis yielded to the importunities of
Phil Cary, and spent the night at Elmwood;
but at sunrise was again in the
saddle, and on his way to “Rivanna,”
where his friend promised soon to join
him.
The variegated foliage was fresh,
dewy, and sonorous with the “caw caw”
of the crows. That familiar sound
struck on the ear of Innis with delight,
and he went on at a gallop, full of joy,
reaching finally the summit of a hill
within half a mile of the old country-house.
There he checked his horse, and
looked for some moments with admiration
on the prospect. To the left were
circling hills, abrupt, heavily clothed
with evergreens, and cut by the foaming
current of a mountain-stream, above
which towered mighty masses of rock
full of wild and picturesque beauty. In
front and to the right the ground trended
off into charming slopes, dotted with
oaks and ash-trees, and a rustic bridge
was thrown across the stream below.
On a commanding eminence beyond,
standing proudly amid the great oaks of
the extensive grounds, was
“Rivanna,”
with its white portico, broad wings,
stacks of chimneys, and long rows of
quarters, the whole lit up by the gold
of sunrise.
Innis stopped for a few moments only.
Something beside the landscape evidently
attracted him. He put spur to his
horse, galloped down the hill, crossed
the bridge, and passed through a tall
gate, with ornamental capitals on the
posts, into the grounds of the mansion.
Suddenly he drew rein and uttered a joyous
exclamation.
Within twenty paces of him stood a
young lady, leaning against the trunk of
one of the great oaks, looking toward
him, blushing a little, and smiling.
Innis threw himself from the saddle
rather than dismounted, and, hastening
toward the young lady, exclaimed—
“Honoria!”
She came toward him with her fresh
cheeks just tinted with roses, pushing
back some brown curls from her forehead,
and holding out a small hand.
“I am very glad you have come back,
Edmund,” she said, simply.
“And I am happy for the first time
since I left you, Honoria.”
There was something ardent, earnest,
and moving, in the voice of the speaker.
His companion did not blush, but a
quick light filled the great soft eyes, and
an exquisite expression of happiness, at
once trustful and timid, came to her lips.
The sunrise fell upon her as she stood
thus, and seemed to caress her. She was
not more than eighteen, with a slender
figure, which swayed naturally as she
moved on her little feet, and a complexion
all lilies and roses. What was better
than the lilies and roses, the white neck
bending like a swan's, and the whole
physique of this gracious creature, was
the modesty of her glance and smile—a
certain winning sweetness—which said,
“I am pure,” as the snow says, “I am
white.”
Her hand lay for a moment in that of
Edmund Innis, and then was withdrawn,
but without affectation or mock prudery.
As they walked up the hill, Innis
leading his horse by the bridle, the feelings
of the youth were translated in his
glances, which dwelt upon the fresh face
beside him with an expression which left
nothing in doubt. Eager, tender, their
light veiled, as it were, by happiness, the
eyes of the youth betrayed his secret.
“When did you leave Williamburg?”
“Three days ago.”
“You came alone?”
“With our friends of Elmwood.”
“That must have made the journey
pleasant.”
“Very pleasant.”
Does the reader wish to have recorded
any more of this thrilling conversation?
I spare him. Why should not
youth and love play their parts unseen?
Why repeat the commonplaces under
which the heart beats? The words uttered
are nothing—the aim of each is to
hear the other's voice. So on this morning,
full of sunshine, foliage, freshness,
and charm, the young man and the girl
walked beside each other, exchanging
nothings, which were better than wit.
A short walk beneath the great oaks,
over a path gradually ascending, brought
them in front of the long porches of the
great mansion.
Innis entered, Honoria ran to announce
his arrival to her mother, and
the young man went into the library.
Before him sat, in a great arm-chair,
Colonel Brand.
