Chapter 1 - Page 2

the
eighteenth century, father."

"You, at least, my child, have been educated beyond the reach of national
foibles, whatever may have been my own evil fortune; and still, I think
even you have seen a great deal to admire in this country, as well as in
this coast."

Eve Effingham glanced a moment towards the eye of her father, and
perceiving that he spoke in playfulness, without suffering a cloud to
shadow a countenance that usually varied with her emotions, she continued
the discourse, which had, in fact, only been resumed by the remark first
mentioned.

"I have been educated, as it is termed, in so many different places and
countries," returned Eve, smiling, "that I sometimes fancy I was born a
woman, like my great predecessor and namesake, the mother of Abel. If a
congress of nations, in the way of masters, can make one independent of
prejudice, I may claim to possess the advantage. My greatest fear is,
that in acquiring liberality, I have acquired nothing else."

Mr. Effingham turned a look of parental fondness, in which parental pride
was clearly mingled, on the face of his daughter, and said with his eyes,
though his tongue did not second the expression, "This is a fear, sweet
one, that none besides thyself would feel."

"A congress of nations, truly!" muttered another male voice near the
father and daughter. "You have been taught music in general, by seven
masters of as many different states, besides the touch of the guitar by a
Spaniard; Greek by a German; the living tongues by the European powers,
and philosophy by seeing the world; and now with a brain full of learning,
fingers full of touches, eyes full of tints, and a person full of grace,
your father is taking you back to America, to 'waste your sweetness on the
desert air.'"

"Poetically expressed, if not justly imagined, cousin Jack," returned the
laughing Eve; "but you have forgot to add, and a heart full of feeling for
the land of my birth."

"We shall see, in the end."

"In the end, as in the beginning, now and for evermore."

"All love is eternal in the commencement."

"Do you make no allowance for the constancy of woman? Think you that a
girl of twenty can forget the country of her birth, the land of her
forefathers--or, as you call it yourself when in a good humour, the land
of liberty?"

"A pretty specimen _you_ will have of its liberty!" returned the cousin
sarcastically. "After having passed a girlhood of wholesome restraint in
the rational society of Europe, you are about to return home to the
slavery of American female life, just as you are