Barton was a little abashed; he might have
moved up more cautiously, and reconnoitred, had he not been taken
by surprise. There was no help for it. He deposited his letters and
called for his mail, which gave him time to gather his forces in hand.
Now Barton was born to love and serve women in all places, and under
all forms and circumstances. His was not a light, silly, vapid,
complimentary devotion, but deep in his nature, through and through,
he reverenced woman as something sacred and high, and above the vulgar
nature of men; this reformed his mind, and inspired his manners; and,
while he was generally disliked by men, he was favorably regarded by
women. It was not in woman's nature to think ill of a youth who was
always so modestly respectful, and anxious to please and oblige;
and no man thus constituted was ever awkward or long embarrassed in
woman's presence. She always gets from him, if not his best, what
is proper. If he can lose self-consciousness, and receive the full
inspiration of her presence, he will soon be at his ease, if not
graceful.
The last thing absolutely that ever could occur to Barton, and it
never had as yet, was the possibility of his being an object of
interest personally to a woman, or to women. He was modest--almost to
bashfulness; but as he never presumed, he was never snubbed; and now,
on this summer afternoon, he had came upon a group of seven or eight
of the most attractive girls of the neighborhood, accompanied by one
or two strangers.
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