Ever yours affectionately,
Hubert Blake.
P.S.—I mean to get M. to sit for her portrait to-morrow; but I see that in order to gain this end I shall have to use all my skill in diplomacy, both with the young lady and with her respected father.
H. B.
CHAPTER III.
THE THIRD LETTER.
Hubert Blake to Sophy Meredith.
The Castle Farm, Muirburn, N.B.,
September 17.
My dear Sophy,
It did not occur to me, when I agreed to consider myself Mr. Lindsay’s guest until to-day, that the arrangement would entail my spending the greater part of a glorious autumn day within the walls of the Muirburn Free Kirk—but you shall hear. I suspected, from something which fell from my host at breakfast, that the excuses which I intended to offer for my not accompanying the family to church would not be considered sufficient; but when I ventured to hint at something of the kind my remark was received by such a horrified stare (not to speak of the look of consternation on Margaret’s beautiful face), that I saw that to have made any further struggle for freedom would have been a positive breach of good manners. I submitted, therefore, with as good a grace as I could; and I was afterwards given to understand that to have absented myself from ‘ordinances’ that Sunday would have been little short of a scandal, seeing that it happened to be ‘Sacrament Sunday.’