Not one of them dared
accost her, much less march boldly upon the great Corinthian-pillared
house, raise the brass knocker, and declare himself a suitor for the
Squire's daughter.
One young man there was, indeed, who treasured in his heart an
experience so subtle and so slight that he could scarcely believe in
it himself. He never recounted it to mortal soul, but kept it as a
secret sacred between himself and his own nature, but something to be
scoffed at and set aside by others.
It had happened one Sabbath day in summer, when Evelina had not been
many years home from school, as she sat in the meeting-house in her
Sabbath array of rose-colored satin gown, and white bonnet trimmed
with a long white feather and a little wreath of feathery green, that
of a sudden she raised her head and turned her face, and her blue
eyes met this young man's full upon hers, with all his heart in them,
and it was for a second as if her own heart leaped to the surface,
and he saw it, although afterwards he scarce believed it to be true.
Then a pallor crept over Evelina's delicately brilliant face. She
turned it away, and her curls falling softly from under the green
wreath on her bonnet brim hid it. The young man's cheeks were a hot
red, and his heart beat loudly in his ears when he met her in the
doorway after the sermon was done.
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