Daughters of the Revolution. Charles Carleton Coffin
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yet; we have some young trees, but they are not in bearing.”
“I should like to send a basket of fruit to your sister, if agreeable to you. Pompey will take it to the tavern Monday morning.”
“You are very kind. I will take it with pleasure, and you may be sure Rachel will appreciate your goodness.”
He comprehended her proposition, — that it was her delicate way of giving emphasis to her thanks for what he had done.
“Mr. Walden, I shall always be pleased to see you. I would like to hear more about what you see in nature, and the sermons that are preached to you.”
Berinthia and Major Evelyn joined them. The band had ceased playing, and the last of the guests were departing.
“I hope you have had an enjoyable afternoon,” said Mr. Newville.
“I have enjoyed myself very much, and cannot express my thanks for your hospitality,” Robert replied.
“It was very kind in you to honor us with your company,” said Mrs. Newville with a charming grace and dignity.
Miss Newville went with them to the gate, Major Evelyn improving the opportunity to walk by her side. Robert thought there was a shade of vexation on her face.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, while I talk with Miss Brandon a moment,” she said, dropping behind. Robert walked on a few steps and waited for Berinthia. Major Evelyn lingered a moment as if to have a last word with Miss Newville, but politeness would not admit his further tarrying; he lifted his hat and walked away.
“Oh, Mr. Walden, what do you think your good cousin has been saying?” said Miss Newville, calling him once more to the gate.
“Possibly that she has had an agreeable chat with one of his majesty’s brilliant officers,” Robert replied.
“Instead of being brilliant, he was positively stupid. I don’t like epaulets,” said Berinthia.
“Not those sent to protect us?” Miss Newville asked.
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
The words were spoken firmly, with an emphasis which Robert alone could understand.
Miss Newville locked her arm in Berinthia’s as if loath to have her go. They lingered by the gate, how long Robert could not say. Just what was said he could not recall. He only knew it was delightful to stand there, to hear her voice, to see the smiles rippling upon her face, and the loving eyes that turned towards him at times. When at last the good-night was spoken, when himself and Berinthia were quite a distance, looking backward he saw her white handkerchief waving them farewell.
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