That blessed Mr. Halsey like an angel of mercy sent me “Kate
Coventry” yesterday, just when I was pining for a bonne bouche of some
kind, I did not care what, whether a stick of candy or an equally palatable
book. It is delightful to have one's wishes realized as soon as they are made.
I think it rather caused me to relent towards Mr. Halsey; I did not feel half
so belligerent as I did just the Sunday before. At all events, I felt well
enough to go down in the evening when he called again, though I had been
too indisposed to do so on a previous occasion. (O Sarah!)
Wheeled into the parlor, there I beheld not my friend alone,
but several other individuals whose presence rather star tied me. I found
myself undergoing the terrors of an introduction to a Colonel Locke, and to my
unspeakable surprise, Major Buckner was claiming the privilege of shaking hands
with me, and Colonel Steadman was on the other side, and — was that Mr.
Halsey? O never! The Mr. Halsey I knew was shockingly careless of his dress,
never had his hair smooth; let his beard grow as it would, and wore a most
ferocious slouched hat. This one had taken more than one look at the glass, a
thing I should have imagined the other incapable of doing. He had bestowed the
greatest care and attention on his dress, had brought his beard within
reasonable limits, had combed his hair with the greatest precision, and held
lightly in one hand an elegant little cap that I am sure must be provokingly
becoming. Why, he was handsome! Ah cat some mistake, surely, I cried to
myself. My Mr. Halsey was not, certainly! “If it be I, as I hope it may
be, I’ve a little dog at home who will surely know me,” I kept repeating. I
resolved to test the little dog's sagacity, so I pretended to know this
apparition, and thanked him for the pleasure he had afforded me by sending me “Kate
Coventry.” He looked conscious and pleased! The “little dog” had found out his
identity! I was more puzzled than ever. How account for this wondrous change? .
. . But metaphorphosed “John” talked! He was expatiating at a most
extraordinary rate, and had been doing so for an hour after supper, when Gibbes
drew his chair near me (Gibbes likes to hear what visitors say to his little
sister); whereupon timid Mr. Halsey drew his slightly back, and very soon after
asked for his horse. O Gibbes! you wretch! what an amusing tête-à-tête you spoiled,
you innocent! And the General, of course, only waited for his exit before
beginning to tease me unmercifully. I must put an end to this; they shall not
bring such unjust charges against him. Yet how am I to make them see reason?
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 310-2
No comments:
Post a Comment