“We will promenade then, if you wish. I do not care to dance either,” answered Paul.
She took his arm, and as they walked along comments of praise were lavished upon them, as they made a splendid-looking couple; and many of the company saw at a glance that the young man loved to be in the company of the strange young lady; and many a young lady there knew that he loved to dance, but preferred the company of the lady by his side. Many envious glances were given Nettie that evening, but she appeared not to notice them. She used them all alike, and, when not in company with Paul, she would seek the company of her aunt and uncle and look on and see the others enjoy themselves. “I do not care to dance,” she would tell all who asked for her company. “I cannot enjoy dancing,” she would say to her aunt, when she urged her to dance.
“No, no, I can not,” she would say.
It was not because she could not dance. It was because of a request of her father, who was lying in his grave, and of her mother who was far away at home.
How many young people of today scarcely wait till the green sod grows over the grave of some beloved form, before they are away to some ball or place of amusement? Such is progression.
It was getting quite late and Paul came to Nettie and said, “Miss Spaulding, accept my company, please, for a promenade on the piazza. The moon is spreading its rays beautifully and the evening is delightful.”
She took his arm and they walked quietly out under the trailing vines of myrtle, which were trained to droop from the eaves of the old farm-house. They came to an old-fashioned settee that was enfolded in the drooping vines and formed an arbor. Here they sat down. Soon Paul said, “Miss Spaulding, have you been down to the lake since Monday?”
His companion blushed deeply as she answered. “I have not, sir; you must have heard all I said, did you not? I was very lonely that day—my poor mother far away and I alone here. My cousins are very kind to me, very kind indeed, or I do not know what I should do.”
“Will you accept the friendship of a stranger? As you know but little about me that is all I will ask now. I never saw a lady in all my wanderings who ever drew such words of acknowledgment from me before. All I ask is friendship, and when you know me better perhaps I shall ask you for this little hand.”
He gently raised her hand to his lips as he was speaking.