Daughters of the Revolution. Charles Carleton Coffin
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again,” said the doctor.
Merry was the laughter.
“This is delicious tea,” he said, sipping the beverage.
“I am glad you like it.”
“It is all the more delicious, Miss Ruth, because I have it from your own gracious hand, and because it is probably the last I shall drink for many months.”
She gazed at him wonderingly.
“You know I am firm in my convictions as to what is right and just, and I have decided to quit drinking tea as a protest against what the king and Lord North are preparing to do. So this will be a memorial day for me. Pardon me, I did not mean to allude to it.”
“One need not beg pardon for having a conviction of what is right and just. If it is to be your last cup I’m glad I have the privilege of serving it,” she said.
One by one guests joined them, charmed by her presence, Major Evelyn hovering around her. More than once the eyes of Robert and Miss Newville met. Would she not think him rude? But how could he help looking at her?
While Miss Newville was serving other guests, with Berinthia and Miss Shrimpton Robert walked the garden once more, the great shaggy watch-dog trotting in advance, as if they were guests to be honored by an escort.
The afternoon was waning. Guests were leaving, and it was time for Berinthia and Robert to take their departure.
“Oh, you are not going now. I have not had an opportunity to speak a dozen words with you, Berinthia, and I have shamefully neglected Mr. Walden. I have not had a chance to drink a cup of tea with him. I am sure you will excuse me, Major Evelyn, while I redeem myself. You will find Miss Brandon delightful company,” said Miss Newville.
Major Evelyn, being thus politely waved one side, could but acquiesce.
“Shall we sit, Mr. Walden?” she asked, leading the way to seats and bringing tea and cake.
“I enjoyed your description of life in the country, and the young ladies were delighted,” she said.
“We have pretty good times with the quiltings, huskings, and sleighing parties, when we pile into a double pung, ride in the moonlight, have supper, and a dance.”
“How delightful! Have you brothers and sisters?”
“Only a sister, Rachel, two years younger than I.”
“Does she love flowers?”
“Yes, she is very fond of them. I make up beds in the garden for her and she sows bachelor’s-buttons, flytraps, pansies, marigolds, hollyhocks, and has morning-glories running over strings around the sitting-room window.”
“They must make your home very pleasant in summer.”
“Yes, and she has asters and sweet peas. I try to keep the weeds down for her as she has so many things to look after, — the chickens, goslins, young turkeys, besides washing dishes, spinning, and wetting the cloth bleaching on the grass. I help a little by drawing the water.”
“It must be very beautiful in the country these September days.”
“It is not quite late enough for the woods to put on their brightest colors; that will be in October.”
“Which season do you like best?”
“I hardly know. Sometimes, when the country is covered with snow and the air is fresh and keen and healthful, I think there is no part of the year more enjoyable than winter; then when spring comes, and the buds start and the leaves are growing, I feel like a young colt ready to caper and kick up my heels. When the flowers are in bloom and the birds are singing I think there is no season like summer. At this time of the year, when we are gathering the harvests and the woods are more beautiful than our Queen Charlotte in her coronation robes, I think there is no period of the year so delightful as autumn.”
“Living in the town.” Miss Newville said, “I lose much that I should enjoy in the country. Sometimes I ride with my father to Roxbury, Dorchester, and Cambridge. He sits in his chaise while I pick the flowers by the roadside. A few weeks ago we went sailing down the harbor, and saw the waves rolling on the beach at Nantasket and breaking on the rocks around the lighthouse. Oh, it was beautiful!”
“I do not doubt it. As you love the country so much, I am sure you would be charmed with the view from our home, Miss Newville, especially at this season of the year.”
“Please tell me about it. I am sure from your description I shall be able to picture the scene.”
“You would see a broad valley, fields, pastures, meadows, uplands, the river flowing between banks fringed with elms and willows, hills farther away, and in the distance blue mountains; the forest all scarlet, russet, yellow, and crimson. That would be the view. You would hear the crickets chirping, crows cawing, and squirrels barking in the woods.”
“How delightful! I know I should revel in such beauty.”
“You asked me, Miss Newville, which season I liked best. I think, all things considered, I enjoy autumn more than any other portion of the year.”
“May I ask why you like it best?”
“Because it is the harvest-time, when we gather the gifts of Providence; and it sets me to thinking I ought to be doing something for somebody in return for what Providence is doing for me.”
Her eyes were watching his lips.
“Oh, go on, please, Mr. Walden, and tell me what the seasons say to you.”
“I hardly know what they say, but the change from the brightness of summer to the russet of autumn, the falling leaves, ripening fruits, fading flowers, shortening days, the going of the birds are like a sermon to me.”
“And why are they like a sermon?” she asked.
“Because the birds will come, the flowers bloom again, but the summer that has gone never will return; the opportunities of to-day will not be here to-morrow. I must make the most of the present, not only for myself but for others. Providence bestows rich gifts; I must give to others.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walden.”
She was silent. None of the officers, not Major Evelyn or any of the captains of his majesty’s troops, ever had uttered such words in her presence. Oh, could she but know if he were the one who rescued her from the hands of the miscreants! She must know.
“Mr. Walden, may I ask if we have not met before?”
“I think we have, Miss Newville.”
“I thought so, but was not sure. May I say I cannot tell you how grateful I am for the service you rendered me yesterday. I never shall forget it. I have not mentioned it, not even to my parents, for I would not have them concerned in the future for my welfare.”
“I can understand how anxious they might be, and I appreciate your prudence. The incident, I understand, is making some stir in town, especially among the soldiers. Doctor Warren has just informed me of it, and was kind enough to say it would be well for me to be on my guard, as the soldiers threaten retaliation. I learn, also, that no one as yet has been able to discover who the young lady was. People are wondering that no complaint has been made to the proper authorities by her or her friends.”
“Oh, I am so glad that no one knows it except ourselves. May I not ask that it shall be our secret, and ours only?”
“Most certainly, Miss Newville.”
“I cannot express my obligation to you, Mr. Walden. It is very honorable in you, and you will not let the soldiers injure you?” she said inquiringly.
“I do not think they will molest me. I shall not put myself in their way, neither shall I avoid them. I am a free citizen; this is my country. I know my rights, and I trust I shall ever be enough of a man to resent an insult to myself, and most certainly to a lady.”
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