Welcome to PhiloLogic |
home | the ARTFL project | download | documentation | sample databases | |
Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886 [1856], The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border: a story of the old Virginia frontier. (Derby and Jackson, New York) [word count] [eaf514T]. To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.
Verty approached the two young girls and took off his hat. “Good morning, Redbud,” he said, gently. Redbud blushed slightly, but, carried back to the old days by “I'm very glad to see you, Verty.” The young man's face became radiant; he completely lost “Hum!” said that young lady, indignantly, “I suppose, Mr. “Anan?” said Verty, smiling. Fanny stamped her pretty foot, and burst out laughing. “It's easy to see what is the matter with you!” she laughed. “Why, there's nothing,” said Verty. “Yes, there is.” “What?” “You're in love.”
Verty laughed and blushed. “There!” cried Fanny, “I knew it.” “I believe I am.” “Listen to him, Redbud!” “She knows it,” said Verty. “Hum! I don't see how anybody can help knowing it.” “Why?” “Because it is plain.” “Ah?” “Yes, sir; this very moment you showed it.” “Yes—I believe I did.” “Odious old thing!” “Who?” “Why, Miss Sallianna, sir—I don't care if you are paying your Verty stared, and then laughed. “Miss Sallianna!” he cried. “Yes, sir!” “I'm in love with her!” “You've just acknowledged it.” “Acknowledged it!” “There!” you're going to deny your own words, like the rest “No—I did'nt say I was in love with Miss Sallianna.” “Did'nt he, Redbud?” asked Fanny, appealing to her friend. “No,” said Verty, before she could reply; “I said I was in And the ingenuous face of the young man was covered with Fanny fairly shook with laughter. “Oh,” she screamed, “and you think I am going to believe
And the young girl clapped her hands. “I wanted”—commenced Verty— “Oh, don't tell me what you wanted!” cried Fanny; “you “You may—!” “I am not to be led off in that way, sir! I say you saw two With which exhausting display of erudition, Miss Fanny lay Redbud had recovered from her momentary confusion, and, “How much better you look, Verty, in this dress—indeed “Do I?” said the happy Verty, bending his head over his “I should think so.” “The other clothes were like a turkey blind.” “A turkey blind? “Oh, you smile!—but you know, when you are lying in the “Yes.” “Then they did'nt suit me.” “No,” assented Redbud.
“I don't dance the minuet—so I did'nt want high-healed Fanny began to laugh again. “Nor a cocked hat; the fact is, I do not know how to bow.” “See! Come, Mr. Fisher-for-Compliments!” cried Fanny. “Oh, I never do!” “Well, I believe you don't.” “Does anybody?” “Yes; that odious cousin of mine—that's who does—the conceited “Your cousin?” “Yes, sir.” “Who is it?” “Ralph Ashley.” “Oh—and he comes to see you—and—Miss Sallianna; she Verty's head drooped, and a shadow passed over his ingenuous “There, you're thinking of Miss Sallianna again!” “No—no,” murmured Verty, gazing at Redbud with a melancholy “Could it be? Oh, no, no! “Could what be?” asked Fanny. For once Verty was reserved. “Nothing,” he said. But still he continued to gaze at Redbud with such sad tenderness, She turned away; and then Miss Lavinia's advice came to her
“I think I'll go and gather some flowers, yonder,” she said, “Let me go with you,” said Verty, moving to her side. Redbud hesitated. “Come, Redbud!” said Verty, persuasively smiling. “Oh, no! I think I would like to get the one's I prefer.” Verty gazed after her with melancholy tenderness—his face lit That young lady pouted, and uttered an expressive “hum!” Verty turned his eyes absently toward her. “You can go, sir, if you don't like my society—I am not “Go where?” said Verty. “After Redbud.” “She don't want me to.” “Hum!” And this little exelamation indicated the light in which Fanny Verty continued to gaze toward Redbud, who was gathering “How kind and good she is!” he murmured. And these words were accompanied by a smile of so much “Yes, she is!” said that young lady; “I'm glad to see
“Anan!” said Verty, smiling. Fanny laughed; and her good humor began to return completely. “I know some who are utterly deficient,” she said. “In what?” “Taste.” “Yes.” And Verty gazed after Redbud. Fanny burst out laughing; but then remembering her promise “Your taste, Mr. Verty, is such that I ought to quarrel with “With whom?” “That coxcomb cousin of mine, Ralph Ashley.” Verty's countenance became clouded; it was the second time “He is a fop,” said Fanny—“a pure, unadulterated, presumptuous And the impulsive Fanny clapped her hands, and more loudly
Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886 [1856], The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border: a story of the old Virginia frontier. (Derby and Jackson, New York) [word count] [eaf514T]. |