'Con-TRARY!' said a voice as sweet as a silver bell. 'That for the
third time, you dunce! I'm not going to tell you again.
Recollect, or I'll pull your hair!'
'Contrary, then,' answered another, in deep but softened tones.
'And now, kiss me, for minding so well.'
'No, read it over first correctly, without a single mistake.'
The male speaker began to read: he was a young man, respectably
dressed and seated at a table, having a book before him. His
handsome features glowed with pleasure, and his eyes kept
impatiently wandering from the page to a small white hand over his
shoulder, which recalled him by a smart slap on the cheek, whenever
its owner detected such signs of inattention. Its owner stood
behind; her light, shining ringlets blending, at intervals, with
his brown looks, as she bent to superintend his studies; and her
face - it was lucky he could not see her face, or he would never
have been so steady. I could; and I bit my lip in spite, at having
thrown away the chance I might have had of doing something besides
staring at its smiting beauty.
|