“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.