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Updated: May 2, 2025
He took a small portion of it for himself, and the rest he put into Asenath's mouth, saying: "From this day forth thy body shall bloom like the eternal flowers in Paradise, thy bones shall wax fat like the cedars thereof, strength inexhaustible shall be thine, thy youth shall never fade, and thy beauty never perish, and thou shalt be like unto a metropolis surrounded by a wall."
Arethusa loved Miss Asenath herself even more than the Romance, though everyone loved her; no one could help it. Even Miss Eliza's crisp tones softened when she spoke to her. Arethusa plumped herself down on her special hassock right beside Miss Asenath's couch.
And thereby hangs a tale. Wednesday coming was Miss Asenath's birthday, and Arethusa had completely lost track of that important fact to forget it until this Monday morning.
It was a trifle sheerer than Miss Eliza had at first intended it to be, thanks to Miss Asenath's gentle persuasion; round in the neck and even a bit low, for with fingers that trembled in their excited daring Miss Letitia had cut it down farther than the line Miss Eliza had indicated as modest and becoming. And then there was no way to fill it in.
She pictured it as a dramatic scene of renunciation between the lovers, both satisfyingly well-favored for Miss Asenath's beauty was a tradition and the boy in the locket was undeniably good to look upon ; and her natural inclination to romance was aided by the reading of many old-fashioned novels of unbridled sentimentality.
Asenath's gravity grew sweeter and more real; the tremulous twinkle quieted in her eyes. "I don't know what to answer you, exactly," she said, presently. "This is just what we housekeepers have been saying ought to happen: and now that it does happen, I feel afraid of taking you in. It is very odd; but the difficulties on your side begin to come to me.
The days grew warm once more and Arethusa might once again take her books back to the congenial solitude of Miss Asenath's Woods, where, with a thick, woolly carriage rug spread on the ground under the hollow tree, she lay for long hours and read or dreamed.
"If I'm struck, then I'm struck," she said, with the finality that admits of no argument. Arethusa sat quietly on her hassock and under Miss Asenath's gentle regularity of fanning she cooled off gradually, but her impatience was in no wise abated. Father's letter was still undiscussed; and Arethusa wished that Miss Eliza would hurry and tell her about it, and what he had said.
But it was not as she had fallen in love with Elinor, and it was not such love as she gave Ross or Miss Asenath or even Timothy; for this was without doubt the Miracle she had read about so many times under the hollow tree in Miss Asenath's Woods. And it had come just as she had always dreamed it would come, with a Hand-clasp and a Glance. The hand in Mr.
For Richard Hilton had soon mastered the elements of botany, as taught by Priscilla Wakefield, the only source of Asenath's knowledge, and entered, with her, upon the text-book of Gray, a copy of which he procured from Philadelphia.
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