Page:Kickerbocker Feb 1833 vol 1 no 2.djvu/39

—Her spirits rise—she moves with a more assured grace. He is more and more agreeable. Those soft eyes were never so bright!—In truth, she looked very pretty.———

The dance over, he conducts her to a seat—And now he ventures a few distant allusions—he lets fall one or two seeds of sentiment;—well knowing how soon in the unfurrowed soil of a young girl's heart they spring into love! A waltz!—'Will she waltz?'———

Now this had been a matter of some discussion. She had vowed she never would—Never!—Her embarrassment was visible—'You waltz, of course?' in a tone of slight surprise. She dared not say, 'No.'—She rose; she accepted his proffered arm———

Ah! that waltz———

What were the thoughts that kept Fanny awake last night?—What were the dreams that detained her so late in the morning?—

Wherever she goes now, she meets Mr. Egerton Winthrop—At papa's he does not visit; but at parties, in the street, at the opera, in church; whether she goes to see some newly-arrived paintings "by the first masters," or some newly-arrived hats, "just received from Paris," that graceful form, those eloquent eyes, she is sure to encounter—And Fanny is in love! What may not be accomplished (in love) in a fortnight?

And at last the tale came—no matter where; her eyes are downcast, but she drinks the tones of his silver voice. She believes,—poor girl,—she believes it all. She must speak. The word is faltered forth—the half-articulated assent; and her face is covered with blushes.———

They meet still more frequently—she can more than listen now; she can raise her eyes to his; she can return the pressure of his hand. He talks sometimes of his poverty; fears that her parents will not consent; doubts the constancy, the strength of her attachment—then mystifies her with extravagances—persuades her that their union will be bliss unspeakable;—a separation—worse than ten thousand deaths.—Her love becomes passion; something she can't quite understand; that half frightens her; but without which, she is certain she could not exist.

"Yes, Fanny, you may love me, but not as I love; I am afraid your attachment may yield to obstacles; that you may be persuaded out of it—Oh, tell me, do you, will you always, love me with your whole heart?"———

She did not answer; but her head fell on his shoulder—and she raised her eyes to his, bashfully, but with an expression so tender! so confiding!———

A dandy has no heart.