s their hearts were
still whole and they moved,
"In maiden meditation fancy free."
Now in Red River was a young half-breed, almost effeminate
in manners, handsome in face and form, and agreeable and
gentle in his address. He was indeed a sort of Bunthorne
of the plains, just such a person as a romantic, shallow
girl is most apt for a rose's period to sigh out her soul
about. You find his type in fashionable civilised circles,
in the languid dude who displays his dreams in his eyes
to captivate the hearts of the silly girls, and--discreetly
--keeps his mouth shut, to conceal his lack of brains.
The two white daughters of the Company's officer were
girls of ordinary understanding, but one of them had
gotten too much poetry into her sweet head, and stood on
the verge of a dizzy steep that overlooked a gulf, the
name of which was Love. At a party given by one of the
foremost of the half-breed families, this girl met
Alexander, the Scottish half-breed, whose person and
manners have been just described. There was something in
the dreamy, far-away expression of the young Metis' eyes,
which stirred the blood in the veins of the romantic
girl. When they rested upon her, the soul of their owner
seemed to yearn out to her. The voiceless, tender,
passionate appealing in the look she was unable to forget
when she walked along the grassy lanes, or trod the
flower-rimmed path of the prairie.
Coming along in the hush of the summer evening, when only
the lovemaking of the grasshoppers could be heard among
the flowers, Alexander met her, He spoke no word, but
there was the same tender, eloquent appealing in his
eyes. He thought the young lady would not take it amiss
of him, if he were to join her on her way over the fields;
so he had taken the liberty.
There was a flutter at her heart, and a great passion-rose
bloomed in each cheek.
No, she would not take it amiss. The walk was so pleasant!
Indeed it was kind of him to join her.
The dusky lover spake few words; but he indolently left
the path and gathered some sprays of wild flowers, and
offered them to the girl. His eyes had the same, wistful
look, and his brown fingers trembled as he offered the
bouquet. Receiving them, and pinning them under her
throat, she said in a low tone, while her voice trembled
a little,
"When these fade, I shall press the petals in my book,
and keep them always."
"Do you consider the flowers I gave you worth preserving?"
he asked,
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