“Blue, you see, for loyalty—not to princes, but to right—I tied it with blue ribbon,” said Aunt Dinah, sitting down beside him, and untying the knot, and taking out the silver box, with embossed windmills, trees, dogs, and Dutchmen upon it. “Here it is—the tobacco-box; it is yours, mind, and your eldest boy’s to have it—an heirloom,” said she, with a gentle smile, looking into that dim but sunny vista, and among the golden-haired and blue-eyed group, painted in fancy, where she would have no place; “and it’s never to go out of the family, and who knows what it may inspire. It was a brave man’s tobacco-box—my hero. The courtiers, I believe, did not smoke, and he did not like tobacco; indeed I can’t abide the smell, except in snuff—the kind you know you bring me sometimes; but he would not be different from the other officers about him, and so he did smoke; though, my dear father told me, always sparingly; and so, dear William, here it is, and I have had your name placed underneath, and you can take it with you.”
Hereupon the tea and muffins entered, and after a time the conversation took another turn.
“And I’m not sorry, William, about that Kincton Knox business; indeed I’m very glad; I never knew before—I never knew intimations—and you know I implicitly believe in them—so peremptory upon any point as on that; and you’re not to marry—mind, you shall promise me you will not—till after the expiration of five years.”
“I think I might promise you safely enough, I’ll never marry,” said William, with a little laugh.
“Don’t be rash—no—don’t promise more than I ask; but that you must,” replied the old lady.
“You’ll not ask me to make promises, I’m sure?” said William; “I hate them so.”
“For five years,” said Miss Perfect, holding up her head a little sternly.
“For five years, dear aunt?” replied William, with a smile, and shaking his head.
“It is not much,” said Aunt Dinah, looking sadly down on her muffin, and chopping it lightly with the edge of her knife, as if she cut off the head of a miniature argument at every stroke. “I don’t think it’s very much for a person, that is, who says he’ll never marry.”
“I’ll never marry—I’m sure I shall never marry—and yet I can’t promise anything. I hate vows; they are sure to make you do the very thing you promise not to do,” said William, half provoked, half laughing, “and if I were to promise, I really can’t tell what the consequence might be.”