第75部分(第1/7 页)

han　her　appearance；　in　her　purple　habit；　with　her　Amazon’s　cap　of　black　velvet　placed　gracefully　above　the　long　curls　that　kissed　her　cheek　and　floated　to　her　shoulders；　can　scarcely　be　imagined：　and　it　was　thus　she　would　enter　the　rustic　building；　and　glide　through　the　dazzled　ranks　of　the　village　children。　She　generally　came　at　the　hour　when　Mr。　Rivers　was　engaged　in　giving　his　daily　catechising　lesson。　Keenly；　I　fear；　did　the　eye　of　the　visitress　pierce　the　young　pastor’s　heart。　A　sort　of　instinct　seemed　to　warn　him　of　her　entrance；　even　when　he　did　not　see　it；　and the　door；　if　she　appeared　at　it；　his　cheek　would　glow；　and　his　marble…　seeming　features；　though　they　refused　to　relax；　changed　indescribably；　and　in　their　very　quiescence　became　expressive　of　a　repressed　fervour；　stronger　than　working　muscle　or　darting　glance　could　indicate。

Of　course；　she　knew　her　power：　indeed；　he　did　not；　because　he　could　not；　conceal　it　from　her。　In　spite　of　his　Christian　stoicism；　when　she　went　up　and　addressed　him；　and　smiled　gaily；　encouragingly；　even　fondly　in　his　face；　his　hand　would　tremble　and　his　eye　burn。　He　seemed　to　say；　with　his　sad　and　resolute　look；　if　he　did　not　say　it　with　his　lips；　“I　love　you；　and　I　know　you　prefer　me。　It　is　not　despair　of　success　that　keeps　me　dumb。　If　I　offered　my　heart；　I　believe　you　would　accept　it。　But　that　heart　is　already　laid　on　a　sacred　altar：　the　fire　is　arranged　round　it。　It　will　soon　be　no　more　than　a　sacrifice　consumed。”

And　then　she　would　pout　like　a　disappointed　child；　a　pensive　cloud　would　soften　her　radiant　vivacity；　she　would　withdraw　her　hand　hastily　from　his；　and　turn　in　transient　petulance　from　his　aspect；　at　once　so　heroic　and　so　martyr…like。　St。　John；　no　doubt；　would　have　given　the　world　to　follow；　recall；　ret