Richard Hilton laughed merrily at the gravity with which she uttered the last sentence.
“Why, Miss—Asenath, I mean—what am I good for; if I have not strength enough to carry a basket?”
“Thee's a man, I know, and I think a man would almost as lief be thought wicked as weak. Thee can't help being weakly-inclined, and it's only right that thee should be careful of thyself. There's surely nothing in that that thee need be ashamed of.”
While thus speaking, Asenath moderated her walk, in order, unconsciously to her companion, to restrain his steps.
“Oh, there are the dog's-tooth violets in blossom?” she exclaimed, pointing to a shady spot beside the brook; “does thee know them?”
Richard immediately gathered and brought to her a handful of the nodding yellow bells, trembling above their large, cool, spotted leaves.
“How beautiful they are!” said he; “but I should never have taken them for violets.”
“They are misnamed,” she answered. “The flower is an Erythronium; but I am accustomed to the common name, and like it. Did thee ever study botany?”
“Not at all. I can tell a geranium, when I see it, and I know a heliotrope by the smell. I could never mistake a red cabbage for a rose, and I can recognize a hollyhock or a sunflower at a considerable distance. The wild flowers are all strangers to me; I wish I knew something about them.”
“If thee's fond of flowers, it would be very easy to learn. I think a study of this kind would pleasantly occupy thy mind. Why couldn't thee try? I would be very willing to teach thee what little I know. It's not much, indeed, but all thee wants is a start. See, I will show thee how simple the principles are.”