He raised his head, and would have caught sight of the young girls in the garden, but for a circumstance which occurred just at that moment.
This circumstance was the appearance of Miss Sallianna--Miss Sallianna arrayed in all her beauties and attractions, including a huge breastpin, a dress of enormous pattern, and a scarf around her delicate waist, azure-hued and diaphanous like the sky, veiled with an imperceptible cloud.
The lady was smiling more than ever; her air was more languishing; her head inclined farther to one side. Such was her ecstacy of "inward contemplation," to use her favorite phrase, that the weight of thought bent down her yellow eye-lashes and clouded her languishing eyes.
She raised them, however, and glancing at Verty, started.
"Good-morning, ma'am," said Verty--"Miss, I mean. I got your letter."
"Good-morning, sir," said Miss Sallianna, with some stiffness; "where are your clothes?"
Verty stared at Miss Sallianna with great astonishment, and said:
"They may be yours, sir; but I do not call them clothes--they are mere covering."
"Because, sir, when a gentleman comes to pay his respects to a lady, it is necessary that he should be clad in a manner, consistent with the errand upon which he comes."
"Goodness gracious!" cried Miss Sallianna, forgetting her attitudes, and vigorously rubbing her nose; "did any body ever?"
"Ever see a person so hard to understand as you are, sir."
"I don't understand long words," said Verty; "and you know I am an Indian."
Verty shook his head, and smiling dreamily:
"Because, sir, the properties of civilization require a mutual criterion of excellence--hem!"
"Oh yes," said Verty, very doubtfully, and checking by an effort his eternal exclamation of ignorance; "but I thought you liked me."
"I do, sir," said Miss Sallianna, with more mildness--"I thought we should be friends."
"What a funny letter you wrote to me," he said.
"Funny, sir?" said Miss Sallianna, blushing.
"But I did'nt understand more than half of it," said Verty with his old dreamy smile.
"They were expressive, sir, of the reciprocal sensation which beats in my heart."
"But recollect, sir, that this sentiment is dependent upon exterior circumstances. I positively cannot receive you in that savage dress."