Serapis
SERAPIS By Georg Ebers Volume 5. CHAPTER XX. Gorgo, when she had left her grandmother, could not rest. Her lofty calmness of demeanor had given way to a restless mood such as she had always contemned severely in others, since she had ceased to be a vehement child and grown to be a woman. She tried to beguile the alarm that made her pulses beat so quickly, and the heart-sickness that ached like a wound, by music and singing; but this only added to her torment. The means by which she could usually recover her equanimity of mind had lost their efficacy, and Sappho's longing hymn, which she began to sing, had only served to bring the fervid longing of her own heart to light-- to set it, as it were, in the full glare of the sun. She had become aware that every fibre, every nerve of her being yearned for the man she
"You don't say so! Why, he's taken a regular fancy to you."
"If he has, I hope he won't get over it."
"I suppose he lives in a handsome brownstone house uptown."
"Very likely; I've never seen the house."
"Well, some folks has luck, but I ain't one of 'em," grumbled Tom.
"Your luck is coming, I hope, Tom."
"I wish it would come pretty soon, then; I say, suppose your folks
won't let you take the place?" he asked, suddenly, brightening up.
"They won't oppose it." "I thought they wanted you to go to
college."
"I can't afford it. It would take too long before I could earn
anything, and I ought to be helping the family."
"I'm goin' to look out for number one," said Tom, shrugging his
shoulders. "That's all I can do."
Tom's mother was a hard-working woman, and had taken in washing for
SERAPIS By Georg Ebers Volume 5. CHAPTER XX. Gorgo, when she had left her grandmother, could not rest. Her lofty calmness of demeanor had given way to a restless mood such as she had always contemned severely in others, since she had ceased to be a vehement child and grown to be a woman. She tried to beguile the alarm that made her pulses beat so quickly, and the heart-sickness that ached like a wound, by music and singing; but this only added to her torment. The means by which she could usually recover her equanimity of mind had lost their efficacy, and Sappho's longing hymn, which she began to sing, had only served to bring the fervid longing of her own heart to light-- to set it, as it were, in the full glare of the sun. She had become aware that every fibre, every nerve of her being yearned for the man she