It was so true that even while they were speaking of the matter Mary was writing these words to her betrothed: “Yesterday I met the Hydes. You know my father has the living of Downhill Market from them, and I had a constraint on me to be agreeable. The young Lord got out of my way. Did he imagine I had designs on him? I look for a better man. What fate brought us together in Philadelphia, I know not. I may see a great deal of them in the coming summer, and then I may find out. At present I will dismiss the Hydes. I have met pleasanter company.”
Annie dismissed the subject with the same sort of impatience. It seemed to no one a matter of any importance, and even Annie that day had none of the penetrative insight which belongs to
“that finer atmosphere,
Where footfalls of appointed things,
Reverberant of days to be,
Are heard in forecast echoings,
Like wave beats from a viewless sea.”
As for Hyde, he was shaken, confused, lifted off his feet, as it were; but after another day had passed, he had come to one steady resolution—HE WOULD SPEAL TO CORNELIA WHEN NEXT HE MET HER, NO MATTER WHERE IT WAS, OR WHO WAS WITH HER. And that passionate stress of spirit which induced this resolve, led him also to go out and seek for this opportunity.
For nearly a week he kept this conscious, constant watch. Its insisting sorrowful longing was like a cry from Love’s watch towers, but it did not reach the beloved one; or else she did not answer it. One bright morning he resolved to walk through the great dry goods stores—Whiteside’s, Guest’s, and the famous Mrs. Holland’s, where the beauties of the “gay Quakers” bought their choicest fabrics in foreign chintzes, lawns, and Indian muslins. All along Front, Arch, and Walnut Streets, the pavements were lumbered with boxes and bales of fine imported goods, and he was getting impatient of the bustle and pushing, when he saw Anthony Clymer approaching him. The young man was driving a new and very spirited team, and as he with some difficulty held them, he called to Hyde to come and drive with him. Hyde was just in the weary mood that welcomed change, and he leaped to his friend’s side, and felt a sudden exhilaration in the rapid motion of the buoyant, active animals. After an hour’s driving they came to a famous hostelry, and Clymer said, “Let us give ourselves lunch, and the horses bait and a rest, then we will make them show their mettle home again.”
The proposal met with a hearty response, and the young men had a luxurious meal and more good wine than they ought to have taken. But Hyde had at last found some one who could talk of Cornelia; rave of her face and figure, and vow she was the topmost beauty in Philadelphia. He listened, and finally asked where she dwelt, and learned that she was staying with Mr. Theodore Willing, a wealthy gentleman of the strictest Quaker principles, but whose son was one of the “feeble men or wet Quakers” who wore powder and ruffles and dressed like a person of fashion.
“He dangles around the bewitching Miss Moran, and gives no other man a chance,” said Clymer spitefully. “It is the talk from east to west, and tis said, he is so enamoured of the beauty, that he will have her, if he buy her.”
“Do you talk in your sleep? Or do you tell your dreams for truth?” asked Hyde angrily. “‘Tis not to be believed that a girl so lovely can be bought by mere pounds sterling. A woman’s heart lies not so near her hand—God’s mercy for it! or any fool might seize it.”
“What are you raging at? She is not your mistress.”
“Let us talk of horses—or politics—or the last play—or anything but women. They breed quarrels, if you do but name them.”