Gifts of Genius | Page 6

tore it by accident, yesterday."
Annie blushed, and looked very proud and offended, and it pained me
to see that she suffered for her harmless and, careless speech. I begged
her not to think that my feelings were wounded, and bowing again,
went up to my room. I looked at my coat, it was terribly shabby, and I
revolved the propriety of purchasing another, but I gave up the idea
with a sigh. She needs all my money, and my mind is made up; she
shall have the black silk, and very soon.

I very nearly forgot to relate what followed the little scene on the
portico. During all that evening, and the whole of the next day, Annie
scarcely looked at me, and retained her angry and offended expression.
I was pained, but could add nothing more to my former assurance that I
was not offended.
Toward evening, I was sitting with a book upon the portico, when
Annie came out of the parlor. She paused on the threshold, evidently
hesitated, but seemed to resolve all at once, what to do. She came
quickly to my side, and holding out her hand said frankly and kindly,
with a little tremor in her voice, and a faint rose-tint in the delicate
cheeks:
"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Mr. Cleave, indeed I did not, sir;
my speech was the thoughtless rudeness of a child. I am sorry, very
sorry that I was ever so ill-bred and unkind; will you pardon me, sir?"
I rose from my seat, and bowed low above the white little hand which
lay in my own, slightly agitated,--
"I have nothing to pardon, Miss Annie," I said, "if you will let me call
you by your household name. I think it very fortunate that my coat was
shabby; had it been a new one, you would never have observed it, and I
should have lost these sweet and friendly accents."
And that is the "incident of the coat."
IV.
The week that has just passed has been a pleasant one. I have thought, a
hundred times, "how good a thing it is to live!"
I must have been a good deal cramped and confined in the city; but I
enjoy the fair landscapes here all the more. The family are very friendly
and kind--except Mrs. Barrington, who does not seem to like me. She
scarcely treats me with anything more than scrupulous courtesy. The
squire and Annie, however, make up for this coldness. They are both
extremely cordial. It was friendly in the squire to give me this mass of

executorial accounts to arrange. So far it has been done to his entire
satisfaction; and the payment for my services is very liberal. How I
long for money!
There was a splendid party at the hall on Tuesday. It reminded me of
old times, when we, too,--but that is idle to remember. I do not sigh for
the past. I know all is for the best. Still, I could not help thinking, as I
looked on the brilliant spectacle, that the world was full of changes and
vicissitudes. Well, the party was a gay and delightful one; the dancing
quite extravagant. Annie was the beauty of the assemblage--the belle of
the ball--and she gave me a new proof of the regret which she felt for
the speech about my coat. At the end of a cotillon she refused the arms
of half a dozen eager gallants to take mine, and promenade out on the
portico.
"Do you ever dance?" she said.
"Oh, yes," I replied; "that is, I did dance once; but of late years I have
been too much occupied. We live quietly."
"You say 'we.'"
"I mean my mother and I; I should have said 'poorly,' perhaps, instead
of 'quietly,' And I am busy."
She bowed her head kindly, and said, smiling:
"But you are not busy to-night; and if you'll not think me forward, I
will reverse the etiquette, and ask you to dance with me."
"Indeed I will do so with very great pleasure."
"Are you sure?"
"Could you doubt it?"
"I was so very rude to you!"
And she hung her head. That, then, was the secret of her choice of my

arm. I could only assure her that I did not think her rude, and I hoped
she would forget the whole incident. I was pleased in spite of all--for I
like to think well of women. The cynical writers say they are all mean,
and mercenary, and cowardly. Was Annie? She had left many
finely-dressed gentlemen, faultlessly appointed, to dance with a poor
stranger, quite out at elbows.
I saw many cold looks directed at myself; and when Annie took my
arm to go into supper, the gloom in the