Біла пташка
David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey
Hasiteverbeenyourlot,reader,tobepersecutedbyaprettywomanwhothinks,withoutatittleofreason,thatyouareboweddownunderahopelesspartialityforher?ItisthusthatIhavebeenpursuedforseveralyearsnowbytheunwelcomesympathyofthetender-heartedandvirtuousMaryA——.Whenwepassinthestreetthepoordeludedsoulsubduesherbuoyancy,asifitwereshametowalkhappybeforeoneshehaslamed,andatsuchtimestherustleofhergowniswhisperedwordsofcomforttome,andherarmsarekindlywingsthatwishIwasalittleboylikeDavid.Ialsodetectinherafearfulelation,whichIamunawareofuntilshehaspassed,whenitcomesbacktomelikeafaintnoteofchallenge.Eyesthatsayyounevermust,nosethatsayswhydon’tyou?andamouththatsaysIratherwishyoucould:suchistheportraitofMaryA——assheandIpassby.
Onceshedaredtoaddressme,sothatshecouldboasttoDavidthatIhadspokentoher.IwasintheKensingtonGardens,andsheaskedwouldItellherthetimeplease,justaschildrenask,andforgetastheyrunbackwithittotheirnurse.ButIwaspreparedevenforthis,andraisingmyhatIpointedwithmystafftoaclockinthedistance.Sheshouldhavebeenoverwhelmed,butasIwalkedonlisteningintently,IthoughtwithdispleasurethatIheardherlaughing.
HerlaughisverylikeDavid’s,whomIcouldpunchalldayinordertohearhimlaugh.Idaresaysheputthislaughintohim.
