Verty rose quickly.
"A letter for me, sir!" he said, blushing.
"Yes; not from a great distance though," Roundjacket replied, with a
sly chuckle; "see here; the post-mark is the 'Bower of Nature.'"
Verty extended his hand abruptly, his lips open, his countenance
glowing.
"Oh, give it to me, sir!"
Roundjacket chuckled more than ever, and handing it to the young man,
said:
"An African of small dimensions brought it this morning, and said no
answer was required--doubtless, therefore, it is _not_ a love-letter,
the writers of which are well-known to appreciate replies. Hey! what's
the matter, my friend?"
This exclamation was called forth by the sudden and extraordinary
change in Verty's physiognomy. As we have said, the young man had
received the letter with a radiant flush, and a brilliant flash of his
fine eye; and thus the reader will easily comprehend, when we inform
him, that Verty imagined the letter to be from Redbud. Redbud was his
one thought, the only image in his mind, and Roundjacket's words,
"post-mark, the Bower of Nature," had overwhelmed him with the
blissful expectation of a note from Redbud, with loving words of
explanation in it, recalling him, making him once more happy.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238