“Who is she?—have I ever seen her?”
“Seen her! and yet ask that question. Why you cool, self-satisfied fellow! Think you, you could have asserted such heresy as just now fell from your lips had you ever met my lovely friend?”
“But you have not yet told me the name of your paragon.”
“No—nor shall I, in revenge for your obstinacy. But here I sit chatting with you when ma’ma is waiting for me at home. I suppose, my dainty cousin, you will condescend to be my escort.”
“And esteem myself most fortunate, I assure you, to enjoy that privilege.”
Arm in arm, therefore, they then proceeded to the street, and were soon immerged with the gay, moving throng up Broadway.
Leaving Kate at the door of her father’s residence, in the upper part of the city, Auburn turned and strolled leisurely down this great thoroughfare of fashion. And no small ordeal is it for a bachelor, let him be even as inexorable to all the fascinations of beauty as Auburn has declared himself to be—no small thing is it to pass unscathed along this rendezvous of fair foes. It was really provoking, however, to see with what an air of nonchalance he suffered many a graceful, lovely form to flit by him; and sweet young faces, which ought to have set his heart beating, and eyes which should have dazzled by their brilliancy; to see their claims to admiration so stubbornly unrecognized would have tried the patience of any reasonable man.
Absorbed in his own reflections, Auburn proceeded slowly en route down Broadway, until attracted by some gem of art displayed at the window of Colman, he stopped for some moments to admire it, with several other loungers like himself. Turning suddenly to pursue his walk, he found himself very awkwardly vis-à-vis two young ladies. He stepped quickly on one side to allow of their passing—most provokingly, they did the same, and in the same direction; with a half-uttered apology, and in much confusion, Auburn again attempted to give them the pave; but now, hemmed in by the crowd, egress either way seemed impossible; and thus the three, so awkwardly drawn together, remained very foolishly, (I speak only for the artist,) looking at each other. There was a spice of mischief, too, mingling with the half-repressed smiles of the young girls, which only added to his embarrassment. In a moment, however, the multitude passed on, and with another glance at our plainly perplexed hero, they did the same.
But not from the mind of Auburn did they thus easily glide away. Why throbs his heart thus tumultuously? What sends the sudden thrill through his frame? Those persons less charitable than ourselves, considerate reader, might deem the impregnable fortress of the valiant artist already undermined by Cupid’s random shot.
“Heavens, what divine eyes!” suddenly occurred to Auburn, as very slowly he passed on his way.