I knew very well that
he would soon get absorbed in those pursuits from which I had been able
to draw him for a brief time, and then I would be compelled to satisfy
myself with the mild excitement of conjugal affection, housekeeping, and
the insipid tea-drinkings for which Cavendish has been noted. Not very
long after our engagement, I met, at a grand society ball, George Le
Grande. He professed to have fallen in love with me at first sight, and
his wooing had all the passionate ardor of a Southern nature; for he was
born in the Sunny South, his father being a wealthy French planter. After
my betrothed's somewhat Platonic love, his passionate worship was
acceptable, and, as the hour of my pastoral life at Cavendish drew near,
my fancy turned, irresistibly, towards the free, gay life Le Grande
offered me. We had grown so intimate I confessed to him my repugnance to
the mild joys awaiting me. Here I made my great mistake; for, with his
brilliant imagination, he drew charming pictures of what our life might
be, tied to no particular spot, but free to roam, citizens of all lands.
My trousseau was nearly completed; but the choosing and trying on of fine
garments did not still the mutinous thoughts seething in my brain. One
evening--shall I forget it in a thousand years?--while Mr. Winthrop was
at Oaklands, overseeing some special preparations to do honor to the
home-coming of his bride, I met Le Grande at a ball. He danced superbly,
and he was my partner that evening in so many dances that my chaperone
began to look darkly at me; while I saw many a meaning glance directed at
us.
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