Page:The Ladies' Cabinet of Fashion, Music & Romance 1832.pdf/86

 

and in tones ofthe sweetest euphony, ask Mr. Anson for "that delightful tune which he played so charmingly.'"9 Accustomed to the appellation of plain " Johnny" from every other tongue, the title of Mister, conveyed in such honeyed accents, fell pleasantly upon his ear, and whether the fair lady was actuated by self-respect or by a respect for Johnny, the effect was to make him her fast friend. The fact was, that Miss Atherton had an art, which some ladies exercise as skilfully as some gentlemen, and which is found among distinguished belles as often as among ambitious men ;-I mean that universal courtesy which gains for its possessor the good will of all ranksthat ready smile, and pleasant phrase, and convenient bow, which, like a panacea, suits all occasions. In statesmen this desirable accomplishment is the result of judicious training ; in handsome women it is an instinct, connected with that love of applause, which is almost inseparable from beauty. Often would Johnny surprise the company, by keeping his eyes open for whole minutes together, as the lovely vision of Lucy Atherton flitted before him. The fire would flash from his eye, and the blood rush from his heart to his elbow, as he gazed in ecstasy at the loveliest dancer in the village- his fingers fell with renewed vivacity upon the tuneful strings, and the very violin itself, seemed to melt in sympathy, and gave forth softer, and mellower, and gayer tones. Then would he close his eyes, and having laid in an agreeable idea, feed upon it in secrecy, as a stingy boy devours a dainty morsel in some hidden corner. With his stringed instrument rattling away like a locomotive engine, apparently unconscious of any animal propulsion ; his mouth wide open, his visage devoid of expression, and the whole outward man reposing in death-like torpidity, he was dreaming of Lucy Atherton- his heart was beating time to the imaginary motion of her feet, as her form floated and whirled, up the sides and down the middle, cross over and right and left, through every nook and corner of his bosom. But either because this image was too dearly cherished to be shared with another, or too faintly shadowed out to be altogether intelligible to himself, he kept his own counsel so closely, that none could have suspected the object of his thoughts, or have pronounced with the slightest shadow of reason, that he had any thoughts at all-except upon one occasion, when Miss Lucy Atherton having gone through a dance with uncommon spirit, he exclaimed with great emotion, that she was 66 a very nice dancer." Yet with all this devotion of heart, and with feelings that