t heavens, what a tableau!...

We well know how resistlessly the male of humankind is drawn to the
female, at the mere glimpse of her flinging aside the tools of his
trade, whatever it may be, and furiously pursuing to the ends of the
earth. And we know, too (for the true poets of all ages have told us),
how the female of our species goes her innocent ways full of artless
fancies and sweet girlish imaginings, all unaware that an opposite and
uproarious sex is in headlong pursuit. And how she springs up startled
from her other-worldly dreams, to hear the thundering feet behind....

Yet we do know also of cases everywhere which make familiar principles
not merely out of place, but fairly grotesque. You are hardly to
conceive Miss Heth's pretty tableau as staged for, her prospecting
journey to the Beach as concerned with, some ordinary male, of whom one
could expect that he would pursue even extraordinary maids in an
ordinary way....

The nymph sailed gayly, stimulated by agreeable anticipations. The
minutes danced by with the skipping waves. A gust of wind slapped the
solitary little canvas, and Carlisle's small but not incapable hand
tightened upon the sheet. Her eye went dreamily over water and strand.
Far down the shore, boys were swimming with faint yells, but the hotel
bathers had tired and gone in. She seemed to have the great Atlantic to
herself, and the fact seemed nice to her, and refined....

The years had passed since Carlisle Heth had formulated the careering
importance, even the nobility, of marrying high above her. Aspiration,
not your ditchwater cynicism, was the mainspring of her real being, as
her mother well knew; and this supreme fulfilment had long glittered
ahead as the ultimate crown, not of triumph only, but of happiness
consummate. A little too long, perhaps: waiting princesses grow
discontented. Vague dissatisfactions possessed the girl at times, for
all her large blessings; mild symptoms stewed and simmered from her
which surprised her in reflective moments, and her mother at all
moments. These things, she knew well, came all from a single want. Her
reach far exceeded her grasp. Her sighs were Alexander's.

Now, in the smiling and anticipatory afternoon, a limpid brook of
girlish imaginings beguiled her with enchanting music, while realer
water lapped her shallop, and the substantial breeze whipped her
glorious hair about her yet more glorious face. This face, it is time to
say plainly, attr