"Oh! Captain Tate!" she exclaimed, with heightened colour and brightened eyes, ... "I did not expect to see you again this morning.... I thought for certain you would be riding with the colonel, or the major, or some of them."
"Ah! Miss Martha!... You don't know what it is to be ordered from quarters where ... you don't know what it is to be torn heart and soul and body asunder, as I shall be in a few days, ... or you would not fancy one should be riding out of town, as long as one had the power of staying in it!"
"Oh dear!... you won't mind it, I'm sure ... you will like Plymouth quite as well ... or perhaps better than you do Silverton: ... we shall all remember you longer than you will remember us."
"Do not say so!... do not say so!... beautiful Martha!—you cannot think it."
"I'm sure I do," responded the young lady, with a very distinct sigh.
It was exceedingly wrong in Captain Tate (yet all his family and intimate friends declared that he was as worthy a fellow as ever lived)—it was exceedingly wrong in him to offer his arm to Miss Martha the moment he heard this sigh; for in fact he was engaged to be married to his cousin, and the marriage ceremony was only deferred till he should be gazetted as a major; yet he scrupled not, as I have related, to offer his arm, saying in a very soft, and even tender accent,—
"I know it is not the etiquette of dear, quiet little Silverton, for the officers to offer their arms to the young ladies; but just at the last ... at such a moment as this, not even the Lord Mayor of the town himself could think it wrong."
This reasoning seemed quite satisfactory, for Miss Martha's arm was immediately placed within his.
"It is very true, as you say, Captain Tate; the last time does make a difference. But it will be very dull work for you going to Smith's shop with me; ... and I must go there, because mamma has sent me."
"Dull!... Oh! Miss Martha, do you really think that any place can be dull to me where you are?"