Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Chapter Six >> Page 35

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
Transcription CHAPTER SIX 35
Rose tossed her head in contempt. The dialogue had been carried on
in whispers, though the clatter of feet, the confusion of tongues, and the
unscrupulous bow of the fiddler, might very well have drowned any ordi-
nary tones of speech. Aunt Betsy sate beside the obdurate beauty, her
hands folded in her lap, her body rocking to and fro, in concert with her
own dissatisfied thought —a picture of despair suddenly struck dumb.
In the midst of the uproar, a sudden and loud rapping was heard
upon the outer door —a rapping of consequence, as if the rapper were
endowed with the "open sesame" of all good society.
Squire Blanton himself hurried to the entrance. Voices were heard
without, a few moments of interval elapsed, and the Squire re-entered,
his face turned to the new-corners, bowing backwards as he introduced
to the company two gentlemen young men both fashionably
dressed in city habits, graceful of air and manner, good-looking—one
of them handsome, indeed and carrying themselves with all the ease
of guests confident of welcome.
There was a great sensation! The dancers stopped in all the mazes of
the "Virginny reel;" Joe Scrymgeour's fiddle stopped, as if from sudden
paralysis, and subdued murmurs from half a dozen groups, betrayed the
surprise and curiosity, if not the pleasure of all. It was as if the hawk had
suddenly swooped down over a family of partridges, trying to huddle
close in the security of briar-patch and fence-corner. But we must with-
hold our explanations for another chapter.