Hiram was thunderstruck. On reflection, he was convinced that it was the work of some envious person, who had got up the note to cause him or his daughter annoyance; or else that it was a miserable joke, perpetrated by some foolish fellow. So entirely was he assured that one or the other hypothesis was correct, that he dismissed the matter from his mind. He carried the note home, however, and handed it to Belle in a playful manner, while he bestowed his customary caress, and received a kiss in return.
'Young lady, what do you think of that?' he asked.
It was fortunate—or rather most unfortunate—that Hiram did not entertain the slightest suspicion of his daughter: else he would have been led to scrutinize her countenance as he made the remark.
Like most persons who are accustomed to decide for themselves, he never questioned the correctness of his judgment after it was once formed.
Belle, for an instant, felt the floor sinking away under her feet!
It was only for an instant.
With the readiness for which the sex are so remarkable, she at once gave way to a most violent exhibition of temper. She walked up and down the room, apparently in a transport of rage; she tore the note into a hundred pieces, and threw them into the grate.
What was to be done? What would her father do to punish the miscreant who had dared take such a liberty with her name? Boldly she stepped before him, and asked the question.
During these exhibitions, Hiram stood smiling all the while. Belle was very handsome, and never, as he thought, so brilliant as at that moment, giving vent to her woman's passion.
It was really so. Her form, her face, her eyes worked so harmoniously in the scene she had got up to cover what was below the surface, that she did present, to any one whose senses were arbiters, a most beautiful display.