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"Thousands of women scattered all over the land are martyrs to this disease; and there is only one remedy that which I offer to you, Delia." I think she saw, from my manner, that it would be useless to quarrel with me. I was so much in earnest that truth came to my lips in any attempt at utterance. "What would you have me do, Doctor?" There was a petty fretfulness in her voice.
They have no children; but the nieces and nephews flock hither for rest and recreation, and are always fascinated with Uncle George's adventures. Delia is at middle life when she writes her book, but then it is no young girl's story with an imperious Rochester-like hero, that we used to shiver over and adore.
Except for the one glance from the gray eyes which she gave him as they shook hands, Stacia Conry did not stir the past. But she was voluble of the present. "You did not expect this! You see my husband had some work to attend to near here, and I thought I would come with him.... No, we left Delia in Pittsburg with his mother, she wanted to see you, but she would be in the way."
Delia swung open the door and rushed in. The room was empty not a trace of a cat or dog anywhere and the sounds ceased! On my return home Delia met me in the garden. 'Jack! she said, 'I have probed the mystery at last. The house is haunted! We must leave. "Saturday, November 12th. Sublet house to James Barstow, retired oil merchant, to-day. He comes in on the 30th. Hope he'll like it!
But I'm not going to give you up for anybody in Christendom." "You are very sweet, Ben." There was a sound of tears in Delia's voice. "I'll see what it is," subjoined Ben. "Oh, it will all come straight, I know." "I shall not marry you for the next seven years, no, not for twenty, until everybody is willing," said Delia, decisively.
Two or three times they exchanged words on indifferent subjects; Miss Delia asked who had had letters, and Lucyet told her, but it was hard work for both. When it was over, Lucyet paused in the doorway, putting on her straw hat to go back to the post-office. Miss Delia stood a moment irresolute, and then stepped to her side. "Lucyet," she said, her voice trembling, "I don't understand it exactly.
"What a pity," she said, hesitatingly, "that he is so poor, and has to live in such a very little house, if he is so clever!" "Poor?" exclaimed Delia, indignantly; then, checking herself, she added, quietly, "It depends on what you call poor. What the Professor possesses is worth all the silver and gold and big houses in the world. And that's just what the Dornton people don't understand.
What is it?" "The only one feasible. I thought of its possibility before on the boat, when a suspicion of this situation first came to me. You are sure the girls are still at the plantation house? that they know nothing of this condition?" "I have reason to believe so. Delia was buying provisions at the Landing yesterday; I talked with her a moment."
Not till five years later have we any evidence of a rustic eclogue forming part of an actual show. In 1513, Giuliano de' Medici was at Rome, and in the entertainment provided at the Capitol on the occasion of his receiving the freedom of the city was included an eclogue by a certain 'Blosio, otherwise Biagio Pallai delia Sabina, of the Roman Academy. The argument alone has come down to us.
Here the foxhunter has sought a new subject of his boast in the nonchalance of dishabille; the peer has played off the dazzling charms of a coronet and a star; and the petit maître has employed the anxious niceties of dress. Of all the beauties in this brilliant circle, she, who was incomparably the most celebrated, was the graceful Delia.
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