The most interesting couple in the dance was the
young officer and a ward of the Squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of
seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of
the evening, I suspected there was a little kindness growing up between
them; and, indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a
romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and like most
young British officers of late years, had picked up various small
accomplishments on the Continent--he could talk French and Italian--draw
landscapes,--sing very tolerably--dance divinely; but above all he had
been wounded at Waterloo;--what girl of seventeen, well read in poetry
and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection!
The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling
against the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am half
inclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the
Troubadour. The Squire, however, exclaimed against having anything
on Christmas eve but good old English; upon which the young minstrel,
casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of memory, struck
into another strain, and, with a charming air of gallantry, gave
Herrick's "Night-Piece to Julia:"
"Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee,
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41