While the old negro was getting ready to entertain them with his violin, they proposed conundrums and riddles and narrated stories.
There came at length a gentle rap on the door, and Brutus, with high standing collar, wearing a cast-off coat given him by his master, his round-bowed spectacles on the tip of his nose, entered the room, bowing very low. He took his stand in one corner and tuned his violin. The chairs and light-stand were removed to the hall.
“De ladies and genmen will please choose pardners for de minuet,” said Brutus.
The choosing had been already done; the partners were as they had been. After the minuet came the reel and quickstep, danced with grace and due decorum.
The hour quickly flew. The horses had finished their provender and were rested. Once more they were on the road, not riding directly homeward, but turning into cross-roads to Jamaica Pond, where the boys were gliding over the gleaming ice on their skates. They had kindled fires which lighted up the surrounding objects, the dark foliage of pines and hemlocks, and the branches of the leafless elms and maples growing on the banks of the pond.
The full moon was shining in their faces as they rode homeward. The evening air was crisp, but the hot supper and the merry dance had warmed their blood. The jingling of the sleigh-bells and their joyous laughter made the air resonant with music.
At times the horses lagged to a walk, and Robert could let the reins lie loose and turn his face toward Miss Newville. Her eyes at times looked up to his. He could feel her arm against his own. The violet hood leaned towards him as if to find a resting-place. To Robert Walden and to Ruth Newville alike never had there been such a night, so full of beauty, so delightful.
The horses came to a standstill at last by the entrance to the Newville mansion.
“This has been the most enjoyable day of my life,” Miss Newville said, as Robert gave her his hand to assist her from the pung.
“Good-night, all. Thank you, Mr. Walden, for all your kindness,” her parting words.