well-trimmed grass, fireflies made tiny orange lights. The air was sweet with heliotrope and box.
She walked very fast, giving him no time to linger, pointing out the interesting features: the little maze, not yet grown high enough to be mysterious; the sundial from a Versailles garden; the pond, clamorous with bullfrogs. Alston was forced into an ungainly shamble in order to keep up with her swift feet.
'You go too fast,' he complained at last, as they entered the grape arbor. 'Let us sit down here on this bench.'
She hesitated. Through the open windows of the drawingroom music streamed, the mellow harmony of the fiddles, the joyous plink-plunk of the pianoforte. Dancers passed and repassed across the brightly lit rectangles, their heads swaying gracefully to valse rhythm. She saw a blur of smiling faces, heard Katie's unmistakable laugh. They were all having such a good time in there. She yearned to join them. Alston, who had previously only bored her, now made her extremely uncomfortable as well. That moment of mutual embarrassment in the picture gallery had changed their relationship. His attitude had become intimate, and tinctured with a definite flavor of pursuit. And she had no wish to be pursued. Still, her father would be displeased if they returned so soon, or if she refused to a guest any reasonable request. Particularly this guest. Aaron had made that quite clear.
She sighed, seating herself primly on the edge of the bench. Moonlight filtered through the grape leaves above and endowed her with a luminous beauty, softening the slight heaviness of her jaw line and enlarging her dark eyes to supernatural size. Theodosia was pretty by any light, but now she was breath-taking. A siren.
Alston flung himself down beside her and stared. His mouth watered and his heart pounded. New and disturbing impulses besieged him.
He looks, thought Theo impatiently, like a slaughtered sheep, with his pop-eyes and tight curls, and he has lost his tongue as usual.
'Do tell me more of your life down South, Mr. Alston. Do you have many hunting parties? I have no doubt you are a superb horseman. Have you large stables?'
He neither moved nor answered. He continued to stare as though she were one of the curiosities in Mr. Beller's South Street Museum.
She laughed nervously. 'Indeed, Mr. Alston, I asked you a question.'
Was he further gone in liquor than she had supposed? She edged farther from him. How unpleasantly audible his breathing had become.
'It's—it's getting chill. I think we had better go in now'. She started to rise, but shrank back petrified as he made a lunge at her.
Before she could either run or struggle, he grabbed her roughly by the arms. Her head snapped back as his moist mouth closed on hers. Her hand flew out and landed a resounding slap on his ear. He clutched her the tighter, pressing her against the back of the bench until its rim cut sharply across her shoulders.
Her panic flamed to fury. She beat at his head with all the force of her fists.
Suddenly his arms dropped, limp as though they were broken. He slumped into the far corner of the bench.
'How dare you insult me like that—you yokel!' she whispered, shivering with anger and a sense of defilement. 'When I tell my father how you honor his hospitality, he will know
what to do. Though I doubt that he will deem you enough of a gentleman to be eligible for the code duello.'
A muffled sound came from Alston. He buried his face in his hands and his bulky shoulders shook.
God's mercy! Now the man was crying. Amazement extinguished her rage. This monster who had assaulted her transformed like this into a shamed, blubbering boy.
She distinguished broken words. 'Miss Burr—can never make amends. I forgot myself. Apologize—I lost my head. You looked so unearthly beautiful.'
She felt a twinge of exasperated pity. No woman can listen quite unmoved to a man who pleads that her beauty overcame him.
'Please forgive me, Miss Burr. Your good opinion means
She walked very fast, giving him no time to linger, pointing out the interesting features: the little maze, not yet grown high enough to be mysterious; the sundial from a Versailles garden; the pond, clamorous with bullfrogs. Alston was forced into an ungainly shamble in order to keep up with her swift feet.
'You go too fast,' he complained at last, as they entered the grape arbor. 'Let us sit down here on this bench.'
She hesitated. Through the open windows of the drawingroom music streamed, the mellow harmony of the fiddles, the joyous plink-plunk of the pianoforte. Dancers passed and repassed across the brightly lit rectangles, their heads swaying gracefully to valse rhythm. She saw a blur of smiling faces, heard Katie's unmistakable laugh. They were all having such a good time in there. She yearned to join them. Alston, who had previously only bored her, now made her extremely uncomfortable as well. That moment of mutual embarrassment in the picture gallery had changed their relationship. His attitude had become intimate, and tinctured with a definite flavor of pursuit. And she had no wish to be pursued. Still, her father would be displeased if they returned so soon, or if she refused to a guest any reasonable request. Particularly this guest. Aaron had made that quite clear.
She sighed, seating herself primly on the edge of the bench. Moonlight filtered through the grape leaves above and endowed her with a luminous beauty, softening the slight heaviness of her jaw line and enlarging her dark eyes to supernatural size. Theodosia was pretty by any light, but now she was breath-taking. A siren.
Alston flung himself down beside her and stared. His mouth watered and his heart pounded. New and disturbing impulses besieged him.
He looks, thought Theo impatiently, like a slaughtered sheep, with his pop-eyes and tight curls, and he has lost his tongue as usual.
'Do tell me more of your life down South, Mr. Alston. Do you have many hunting parties? I have no doubt you are a superb horseman. Have you large stables?'
He neither moved nor answered. He continued to stare as though she were one of the curiosities in Mr. Beller's South Street Museum.
She laughed nervously. 'Indeed, Mr. Alston, I asked you a question.'
Was he further gone in liquor than she had supposed? She edged farther from him. How unpleasantly audible his breathing had become.
'It's—it's getting chill. I think we had better go in now'. She started to rise, but shrank back petrified as he made a lunge at her.
Before she could either run or struggle, he grabbed her roughly by the arms. Her head snapped back as his moist mouth closed on hers. Her hand flew out and landed a resounding slap on his ear. He clutched her the tighter, pressing her against the back of the bench until its rim cut sharply across her shoulders.
Her panic flamed to fury. She beat at his head with all the force of her fists.
Suddenly his arms dropped, limp as though they were broken. He slumped into the far corner of the bench.
'How dare you insult me like that—you yokel!' she whispered, shivering with anger and a sense of defilement. 'When I tell my father how you honor his hospitality, he will know
what to do. Though I doubt that he will deem you enough of a gentleman to be eligible for the code duello.'
A muffled sound came from Alston. He buried his face in his hands and his bulky shoulders shook.
God's mercy! Now the man was crying. Amazement extinguished her rage. This monster who had assaulted her transformed like this into a shamed, blubbering boy.
She distinguished broken words. 'Miss Burr—can never make amends. I forgot myself. Apologize—I lost my head. You looked so unearthly beautiful.'
She felt a twinge of exasperated pity. No woman can listen quite unmoved to a man who pleads that her beauty overcame him.
'Please forgive me, Miss Burr. Your good opinion means
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