“My dear boy, it is a consummation I have devoutly prayed for. You have won a prize, indeed, John; cherish it fondly.”
To which my reply was, of course, redundantly affirmative and sempiternally votive.
As we were preparing to leave for Newport the day following I did not see Miss Finnock again, and was very glad of it, as our interview could not have been pleasant; and, in fact, I thought the rest of the party treated me with sudden coldness and reserve when we met at the table.
The night preceding our departure there was a grand ball at the Union, and though I had the honor of escorting Carlotta, her card was so full of engagements that I could only stand off and admire her, as a throng of her devotees surrounded her.
As blind as love is said to be, it is, nevertheless, very much affected by what others think of its object; and, besides flattering our own taste, it very much enhances our devotion to feel that others love what we love. Leander would never have swum the Hellespont if no one else had cared for Hero.
With all the fond pride of ownership I watched the crowd that flocked to Carlotta’s side, when a set closed, begging the honor of a dance, striving to catch a smile, and wearying her with ceaseless and multitudinous attention; and, as I marked the disappointment on the faces of a score, and the conscious triumph of him who led her out, I thought that if they thus sought the pleasure of a moment with her, how supremely blest was I to own her love, and hold her promise to be mine for life.
I was selfish enough to want her all to myself, and brooked but poorly the immense popularity that engaged her time and kept her from me.
At Newport it was the same thing. Her fame had preceded her, and many of her Saratoga beaux followed her thither. Her appearance in the ball room at the Ocean House was the signal for the desertion of other belles, and our drives on the beach were series of stares, of envy from the ladies and of admiration from the men. It was amusing to mark the difference of expression on the faces of the occupants of a buggy or landau as it rolled past us; the gentleman invariably gazing at her, with a smile, as we approached, and turning his head to look back as we passed; the lady looking straight ahead, with a half curl on her lip, as if she would say, “Umph! she is not so beautiful after all.”
It was not till we left Newport, and were returning to dear old quiet Carolina, that I began to realize that Carlotta was indeed my own. Herrara parted with us in New York, taking the steamer for Havana, and promising to bring his bride to see us the next winter.