“Wait a moment till I catch this tear—I think I feel one in my left eye.”
“What have I said that could have started a tear?”
“That you were a member of the Mississippi Legislature—that was the reason your girl refused to marry you.”
“Well, perhaps it was; though I have repented of that; and have promised to go and sin no more in that way; but I am digressing. While I was in Jackson, I was invited by some friends, to join them in a picnic dinner on the beautiful banks of Pearl river. Many lovely women were with the party—one in particular; it was a clear case of love at first sight on my side, and spontaneous indifference on hers. The dinner was magnificent. My girl unloaded a basket. It made my mouth water to watch her pretty little white hands lifting out the nice cake, the luscious jam, the roast turkey, the broiled chicken, the snow-white bread, the great yellow rolls of butter. I fell in love with her and the contents of her basket—and felt like devouring the whole concern then and there. It would have done you good to see the sweet smile she cast on me as she invited me to take a seat by her side and eat with her. I made up my mind to make her an offer of marriage at the first opportunity, and I was very much mortified to learn that three other fellows had determined to do likewise. All three of them had great advantages over me—they were not members of the Mississippi Legislature, and I was—I had to carry too much dead weight. After dinner was over the band began to play a lively tune, and some one proposed a dance; I made a dash toward my girl, with the view of asking her to be my partner in the dance. She smiled sweetly on me, but danced with another fellow. I then took the pouts and refused to dance at all. While the angry fit was on me I wandered off down the banks of the river alone—vowing to cripple somebody before night. When I had fully made up my mind to do it, the next question was, How could I accomplish it without getting crippled myself? I could not for the life of me think of any plan that would enable me to get rid of my rivals without endangering myself; therefore I was forced to abandon the enterprise altogether. But while I was rambling along the bank of the river meditating dire destruction, a young gray squirrel ran across my path, and I caught him and carried him in triumph to the picnic headquarters. My girl cast on me another one of her sweet smiles, as she begged me to give her the pretty, darling little squirrel. I of course forgot my angry fit, and gave it to her; it was but a moment after I had given it into her hand when she uttered a loud scream, and let the little squirrel drop on the ground. The entire party took after the squirrel except me and my girl. I saw the blood streaming from her hand, where the little animal had bitten her. I took off her glove and washed the blood from her hand, then tied it up with my handkerchief. I hid her glove in my bosom, where I have worn it ever since. Here it is now, with the stain of her dear blood on it! Why, Scottie, I declare, you are weeping sure enough! What on earth is the matter?—pray what is it.” (She was weeping—the tears running down her cheeks in a stream.) “Have I said anything to offend you? I did not intend it, if I did.” (It was some time before Scottie became composed—and Ivanhoe was very much astonished at her weeping so.) “I believe I have about finished my narrative. I really did love that girl dearly, but her father did not like me. Now, Scottie, tell me your love affair.”
“You have knocked the foundation from under my story, for you have told it yourself—and I must ask you to give me back my glove. It is mine, and here is the scar made by the bite of the squirrel.”
“Good Heavens! Have I the honor to again meet Miss Kate Darlington?”
“If you will leave out the honor part, I will answer, Yes! And I have the pleasure to meet Captain Ralleigh Burk, I presume.”
“You have guessed my name, at any rate—but was it true, Scottie (pardon me please, but I mean to call you Scottie all the time, for I like it), that you did love me?”
“Oh, you must not ask impertinent questions; you know we were joking when we commenced it.”
“No, I don’t! for I never was more in earnest in all my life. I have kissed this little glove a thousand times; and the dear image of the Pearl river girl has been indelibly stamped on my heart. It has been two years since I last saw you, and it has seemed an age to me. I was sure that you were going to marry that other fellow with the red hair.”