The name of the gentleman was Caspar
Goodwood; he was a straight young man from Boston, who had known
Miss Archer for the last twelvemonth and who, thinking her the most
beautiful young woman of her time, had pronounced the time,
according to the rule I have hinted at, a foolish period of history.
He sometimes wrote to her and had within a week or two written from
New York. She had thought it very possible he would come in- had
indeed all the rainy day been vaguely expecting him. Now that she
learned he was there, nevertheless, she felt no eagerness to receive
him. He was the finest young man she had ever seen, was indeed quite a
splendid young man; he inspired her with a sentiment of high, of
rare respect. She had never felt equally moved to it by any other
person. He was supposed by the world in general to wish to marry
her, but this of course was between themselves. It at least may be
affirmed that he had travelled from New York to Albany expressly to
see her; having learned in the former city, where he was spending a
few days and where he had hoped to find her, that she was still at the
State capital. Isabel delayed for some minutes to go to him; she moved
about the room with a new sense of complications.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66