“And so you are from that dependency of the crown? What news do you bring from that Province?” Mr. Newville asked.
“I do not know that there is anything particularly new or interesting. Not much is going on there. We have had a good crop of hay, the corn looks middling well; the rye is not much rusted. I think we shall not want for bread,” Robert replied.
“It is excellent news. Bread is the staff of life, and I trust the people will be grateful for the bounties of Providence, and rest in peace and quiet under the rule of our gracious sovereign, King George.”
“I hope we shall be truly thankful for all that is good,” Robert replied.
“It is very kind in you to accompany our friend Miss Brandon to our entertainment this afternoon; we gladly welcome you, Mr. Walden,” said Mrs. Newville, who ran her eyes over him, and, so far as Robert could judge, rather liking his stalwart form and figure, while saying to herself that he was no hawk or eagle to bear off her chicken.
“Ruth, daughter, this way, please,” said Mrs. Newville.
Robert saw a young lady wearing a white muslin dress turn towards them from a group of ladies and gentlemen; but it was not the snowy whiteness of the garment, neither her dark brown unpowdered hair in contrast to that of the ladies around her, that attracted his attention, but the hazel eyes and the lips that had said, “I never shall forget your kindness, sir.”
“Mr. Walden, allow me to introduce my daughter,” said Mrs. Newville.
There was a startled, wondering look in the hazel eyes. She courtesied, with the fresh blood suffusing her cheeks.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walden,” she said.