Mel. Your mind is absent, Alonzo; I was speaking of yonder ship.
Al. I beg your pardon, madam. O yes—the ship—it—it bounds with rapid motion over the waves.
A pause ensued. They walked leisurely around the hill, and moved toward home. The sun sunk behind the western hills.—Twilight arose in the east, and floated along the air. Darkness began to hover around the woodlands and vallies. The beauties of the landscape slowly receded. “This reminds me of our walk at New-London,” said Melissa. “Do you remember it?” enquired Alonzo. “Certainly I do,” she replied, “I shall never forget the sweet pensive scenery of my favourite rock.” “Nor I neither,” said Alonzo with a deep drawn sigh.
The next day Alonzo returned to his studies; but, different from his former visits to Melissa, instead of exhilarating his spirits, this had tended to depress them. He doubted whether Melissa was not already engaged to Beauman. His hopes would persuade him that this was not the case; but his fears declared otherwise.
It was some time before Alonzo renewed his visit. In the interim he received a letter from a friend in the neighbourhood of Melissa’s father; an extract from which follows:
“We are soon to have a wedding here; you are acquainted with the parties—Melissa D—— and Beauman. Such at least is our opinion from appearances, as Beauman is now here more than half his time.—You will undoubtedly be a guest. We had expected that you would have put in your claims, from your particular attention to the lady. She is a fine girl, Alonzo.”
“I shall never be a guest at Melissa’s wedding,” said Alonzo, as he hastily paced the room; “but I must once again see her before that event takes place, when I lose her forever.” The next day he repaired to her father’s. He enquired for Melissa; she was gone with a party to the shores of the sound, attended by Beauman. At evening they returned. Beauman and Alonzo addressed each other with much seeming cordiality. “You have deceived us, Alonzo, said Melissa. We concluded you had forgotten the road to this place.”
“Was not that a hasty conclusion madam?” replied Alonzo. “I think not, she answered, if your long absence should be construed into neglect. But we will hear your excuse said she, smiling, by and by, and perhaps pardon you.” He thanked her for her condescension.
The next morning Beauman set out for New-London. Alonzo observed that he took a tender leave of Melissa, telling her, in a low voice, that he should have the happiness of seeing her again within two or three weeks. After he was gone, as Melissa and Alonzo were sitting in a room alone, “Well sir, said she, am I to hear your excuses?”