The Crayon Papers | Page 9

that night! I lay overwhelmed with
mortification, and meditating how I might meet the family in the
morning. The idea of ridicule was always intolerable to me; but to
endure it on a subject by which my feelings had been so much excited
seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at one time, to get up,
saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not whither.
At length I came to a resolution. Before going down to breakfast, I sent
for Sophy, and employed her as embassador to treat formally in the
matter. I insisted that the subject should be buried in oblivion;
otherwise I would not show my face at table. It was readily agreed to;
for not one of the family would have given me pain for the world. They
faithfully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter; but
there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to my soul; and
whenever my father looked me in the face, it was with such a
tragi-comical leer--such an attempt to pull down a serious brow upon a

whimsical mouth--that I had a thousand times rather he had laughed
outright.
* * * * *
For a day or two after the mortifying occurrence just related, I kept as
much as possible out of the way of the family, and wandered about the
fields and woods by myself. I was sadly out of tune; my feelings were
all jarred and unstrung. The birds sang from every grove, but I took no
pleasure in their melody; and the flowers of the field bloomed
unheeded around me. To be crossed in love is bad enough; but then one
can fly to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account in
soul-subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, object and all,
annihilated, dispelled, proved to be such stuff as dreams are made
of--or, worse than all, to be turned into a proverb and a jest--what
consolation is there in such a case?
I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My favorite
resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat upon the rocks and
mused upon the current that dimpled by, or the waves that laved the
shore; or watched the bright mutations of the clouds, and the shifting
lights and shadows of the distant mountain. By degrees a returning
serenity stole over my feelings; and a sigh now and then, gentle and
easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was recovering its
susceptibility.
As I was sitting in this musing mood my eye became gradually fixed
upon an object that was borne along by the tide. It proved to be a little
pinnace, beautifully modeled, and gayly painted and decorated. It was
an unusual sight in this neighborhood, which was rather lonely; indeed,
it was rare to see any pleasure-barks in this part of the river. As it drew
nearer, I perceived that there was no one on board; it had apparently
drifted from its anchorage. There was not a breath of air; the little bark
came floating along on the glassy stream, wheeling about with the
eddies. At length it ran aground, almost at the foot of the rock on which
I was seated. I descended to the margin of the river, and drawing the
bark to shore, admired its light and elegant proportions and the taste
with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with cushions,

and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the cushion's lay a lady's
glove, of delicate size and shape, with beautifully tapered fingers. I
instantly seized it and thrust it in my bosom; it seemed a match for the
fairy footstep that had so fascinated me.
In a moment all the romance of my bosom was again in a glow. Here
was one of the very incidents of fairy tale; a bark sent by some invisible
power, some good genius, or benevolent fairy, to waft me to some
delectable adventure. I recollected something of an enchanted bark,
drawn by white swans, that conveyed a knight down the current of the
Rhine, on some enterprise connected with love and beauty. The glove,
too, showed that there was a lady fair concerned in the present
adventure. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to the
enterprise.
In the spirit of romance and the whim of the moment, I sprang on board,
hoisted the light sail, and pushed from shore. As if breathed by some
presiding power, a light breeze at that moment sprang up, swelled out
the sail, and dallied with the silken streamer. For a time I glided along
under steep umbrageous banks, or across deep sequestered bays; and
then stood out over a wide