“What a lovely mouth—how much expression!” and his step became still slower and slower.
“Fancy never formed aught half so lovely!” Here he paused, undeterminate; then exclaiming almost audibly, “I must see her again, I must know who it is whose breathing charms so far excel even the painter’s art.” He suddenly turned, and swiftly retraced his steps, hoping to overtake the one fair enslaver; for so decisive had been the attraction of the taller of the two girls, that the other, had she been fair as Venus, or even ugly as Hecate, the result would have been the same.
On, on rushes the busy throng—a ceaseless tide of human hopes and worldly ambition, cares and disappointments; and on, on presses Auburn. At length he catches a glimpse of that charming figure; not for an instant does he doubt its identity—so on, on he presses, while nearer, still nearer to his eager vision floats the white robe of the pursued. Small respect has he for persons, as he elbows his way through the crowd. Bravo! his aim is now accomplished, and close behind the unconscious maidens he follows in their dainty footsteps. Trinity was open, and into its holy aisles the young girls passed, nor did our hero hesitate to follow. Choosing a seat which commanded a view of the pew into which they had entered, he remained unobserved, gazing upon the object of his sudden passion.
She was beautiful, at least in his eyes, and evidently young. Her dress, more marked for its uniform simplicity than fashionable display, while her manner, at once so earnest and sincere during the sacred rites, might well rebuke the inappropriate thoughts of Auburn within that holy pile, who, in short, during those few brief moments, quaffed deeply of love’s soul-entrancing draught.
The services over, the two girls left the church, still followed by Auburn. A thousand rash resolves floated through his dizzy brain. He would address them; he would even boldly declare the interest awakened; he would demand in return the name of the fair one. O, that some lucky chance, or mischance, might call forth the offer of his services. Why might they not be terrified by the cry of “mad dog,” or nearly run over by some careless cab-man; any thing, in fact, short of absolute death, so that he might attract their notice. But, to his great chagrin, nothing of this kind seemed likely to happen. Like two beautiful swans, side by side, gracefully glided the fair ones along, until reaching the corner of a fashionable street, they turned down. Auburn was about to do the same, his heart leaping at the thought of discovering at least the residence of his fair enslaver, when his arm was suddenly seized, and a good-humored voice exclaimed,
“Ha! my dear fellow, I am glad to meet you! I have been looking all over town for you; but whither so fast? Stop, I want to say a word to you.”
“Not just now, Evans—I—I—the fact is I am engaged—I—”
“Engaged!—how?—where?” continued his friend, holding on perseveringly to his arm. “Come, I want you to go with me; but what are you looking at—who do you see?” following the direction of Auburn’s eyes eagerly straining down C—— street.
“No one,” answered Auburn, in a tone of vexation; for, alas! in that very moment, when his attention had been unavoidably given to his friend, the fair vision had disappeared, and, like a vision, “left not a rack behind.”
——