Hours to me had never seemed of the same inexhaustible proportions as the hours thus spent. At first I was strong with a dogged patience; but this in time gave way to an impatient eagerness, that merged into a despairing irritability. More than once I felt an almost irresistible inclination to rush to the top of the hill and shout, or conceived an equally foolish idea to make a call at every house, cottage and cabin, in the neighbourhood. In this latter desire my impatience was somewhat held in check by a sense of the ludicrous; for as I thought of the detail of the doing it, I seemed to see myself when trying to reduce my abstract longing to a concrete effort, meeting only jeers and laughter from both men and women—in my seemingly asinine effort to make inquiries regarding a person whose name even I did not know, and for what purpose I could assign no sensible reason.
I verily believe I must have counted the leaves of grass on portions of that mountain. Unfortunately, hunger or thirst did not assail me, for they would have afforded some diversion to my thoughts. I sturdily stuck to my resolution not to ascend to the top until after three o’clock, and I gave myself much kudos for the stern manner in which I adhered to my resolve.
My satisfaction at so bravely adhering to my resolution, in spite of so much mental torment and temptation, may be imagined when, at the expiration of the appointed time, on ascending to the hill-top, I saw my beautiful friend sitting on the edge of the plateau and heard her first remark after our mutual salutations:—
“I have been here nearly two hours, and am just going home! I have been wondering and wondering what on earth you were working at all over the hillside! May I ask, are you a botanist?”
“No!”
“Or a geologist?”
“No!”
“Or a naturalist?”
“No!”
There she stopped; this simple interrogation as to the pursuits of a stranger evidently struck her as unmaidenly, for she blushed and turned away.