“I see I’m no match for you,” he said.
“I am not so sure about that. I saw your mistake. You would soon learn to correct it,” she said with a smile.
Although yet early in the evening, Miss Newville said she must be going home, as her parents might be concerned for her.
“I trust the soldiers will not molest you,” said Mrs. Brandon, bidding Miss Newville farewell.
“I am sure I shall be safe with Mr. Walden,” she replied. There was a meaning in her eyes which he alone understood, the silent reference to their first meeting.
The moon was at its full, its silver light gleaming upon the untrodden snow. There was no need for them to hasten their steps when the night was so lovely.
“Oh, look, Mr. Walden! see Christ Church!” Miss Newville exclaimed. “Tower, belfry, turret, and steeple are glazed with frozen sea-mist and driven snow.”
The church loomed before them in the refulgent light, a mass of shining silver. Above all was the tapering spire and golden vane.
“It is the poetry of nature. Such beauty thrills me. I feel, but cannot express, my pleasure,” she said.