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    Four Meetings
    Four Meetings
    Four Meetings
    Ebook45 pages35 minutes

    Four Meetings

    By Henry James

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    About this ebook

    An unnamed narrator meets Caroline Spencer on four separate occasions. He is a well-travelled and sophisticated Europhile. She is a simple spinster with a passion for European culture who has saved from her earnings as a schoolteacher to finance her own version of the Grand Tour. (Google)
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOtbebookpublishing
    Release dateJan 13, 2019
    ISBN9783962729318
    Four Meetings
    Author

    Henry James

    Henry James was born in New York in 1843, the younger brother of the philosopher William James, and was educated in Europe and America. He left Harvard Law School in 1863, after a year's attendance, to concentrate on writing, and from 1869 he began to make prolonged visits to Europe, eventually settling in England in 1876. His literary output was both prodigious and of the highest quality: more than ten outstanding novels including his masterpiece, The Portrait of a Lady; countless novellas and short stories; as well as innumerable essays, letters, and other pieces of critical prose. Known by contemporary fellow novelists as 'the Master', James died in Kensington, London, in 1916.

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      Book preview

      Four Meetings - Henry James

      FOUR MEETINGS

      By Henry James

      I.

      The first one took place in the country, at a little tea-party, one snowy night. It must have been some seventeen years ago. My friend Latouche, going to spend Christmas with his mother, had persuaded me to go with him, and the good lady had given in our honor the entertainment of which I speak. To me it was really entertaining; I had never been in the depths of New England at that season. It had been snowing all day, and the drifts were knee-high. I wondered how the ladies had made their way to the house; but I perceived that at Grimwinter a conversazione offering the attraction of two gentlemen from New York was felt to be worth an effort.

      Mrs. Latouche, in the course of the evening, asked me if I did n’t want to show the photographs to some of the young ladies. The photographs were in a couple of great portfolios, and had been brought home by her son, who, like myself, was lately returned from Europe. I looked round and was struck with the fact that most of the young ladies were provided with an object of interest more absorbing than the most vivid sun-picture. But there was a person standing alone near the mantelshelf, and looking round the room with a small gentle smile which seemed at odds, somehow, with her isolation. I looked at her a moment, and then said, I should like to show them to that young lady.

      Oh, yes, said Mrs. Latouche, she is just the person. She doesn’t care for flirting; I will speak to her.

      I rejoined that if she did not care for flirting, she was, perhaps, not just the person; but Mrs. Latouche had already gone to propose the photographs to her.

      She’s delighted, she said, coming back. She is just the person, so quiet and so bright. And then she told me the young lady was, by name, Miss Caroline Spencer, and with this she introduced me.

      Miss Caroline Spencer was not exactly a beauty, but she was a charming little figure. She must have been close upon thirty, but she was made almost like a little girl, and she had the complexion of a child. She had a very pretty head, and her hair was arranged as nearly as possible like the hair of a Greek bust, though indeed it was to be doubted if she had ever seen a Greek bust. She was artistic, I suspected, so far as Grimwinter allowed such tendencies. She had a soft, surprised eye, and thin lips, with very pretty teeth. Round her neck she wore what ladies call, I believe, a ruche, fastened with a very small pin in pink coral, and in her hand she carried a fan made of plaited straw and adorned with pink ribbon. She wore a scanty black

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