She had never before seen
a man like him, nor had she read of one. Compared with Rene de
Ronville, the best youth of her acquaintance, he was in every way
superior; this was too evident for analysis; but referred to the
romantic standard taken out of the novels she had read, he somehow
failed; and yet he loomed bravely in her vision, not exactly a
knight of the class she had most admired, still unquestionably a
hero of large proportions.
Beverley stepped in for a few minutes every day to see Father
Beret, involuntarily lengthening his visit by a sliding ratio as
he became better acquainted. He began to enjoy the priest's
conversation, with its sly worldly wisdom cropping up through
fervid religious sentiments and quaint humor. Alice must have
interested him more than he was fully aware of; for his eyes
followed her, as she came and went, with a curious criticism of
her half-savage costume and her springy, Dryad-like suppleness,
which reminded him of the shyest and gracefulest wild birds; and
yet a touch of refinement, the subtlest and best, showed in all
her ways. He studied her, as he would have studied a strange,
showy and originally fragrant flower, or a bird of oddly
attractive plumage. While she said little to him or to anyone else
in his presence, he became aware of the willfulness and joyous
lightness which played on her nature's changeable surface.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120