Under the Young Girl's blighting reign--or rather
under the rule of those false Ministers of the Censure
who have appointed themselves to the custody of
her welfare--Love
veils her sacred fires,
And, unaware, Morality expires,
famished upon the sifted meal and distilled water
of a prudish purveyance.
Let it suffice that Miss Corray and I were engaged
in marriage. She and her mother went to the hotel
at which I lived, and for two weeks I saw her daily.
That I was happy needs hardly be said; the only
bar to my perfect enjoyment of those golden days
was the presence of Dr. Dorrimore, whom I had
felt compelled to introduce to the ladies.
By them he was evidently held in favour. What
could I say? I knew absolutely nothing to his dis-
credit. His manners were those of a cultivated and
considerate gentleman; and to women a man's man-
ner is the man. On one or two occasions when I saw
Miss Corray walking with him I was furious, and
once had the indiscretion to protest. Asked for rea-
sons, I had none to give, and fancied I saw in her
expression a shade of contempt for the vagaries of
a jealous mind. In time I grew morose and con-
sciously disagreeable, and resolved in my madness
to return to San Francisco the next day. Of this,
however, I said nothing.
4
There was at Auburn an old, abandoned cemetery.
It was nearly in the heart of the town, yet by night
it was as gruesome a place as the most dismal of
human moods could crave.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196