"Yes—as it proved; but he did not know it at that time. He called by to see me on his way home. He was in a deplorable state of mind; but I am happy to say that the consolations of friendship were not unavailing. I have succeeded in inoculating him with hopes of more fortunate chances in future. Yesterday, he was ready to swear with Barnadine, that he 'would not die that day for any man's persuasion.'"
"Had he been long absent from his own neighborhood?" asked Ida. "Did he speak of Dr. Carleton's family?"
"Frequently. They are in their usual health, I believe, although he was not explicit upon this point; all ideas connected with Poplar-grove having a marked proclivity backward. 'Last summer' was the starting-point and terminus of his discourse to me. I am going to say something rude, Miss Ross. Is the lady by the pier-table your cousin-german?"
"What if she were my sister?"
"I should say, with all frankness, that I could not detect the family likeness. As she is not related by consanguinity or affinity, we will hope, benevolently, that her attendant is not constituted like my sister, who faints at passing a freshly-painted house; and furthermore award her praise for her liberality. You have heard of the clay that lived with roses—do you think that gentleman would appreciate the apologue?"
Ida and Charley laughed, although the remark might have been considered ill-natured. The pure red and white of the lady's face remained intact, but the gentleman's coat-sleeve had received a bountiful donation of flour or chalk from the snowy arm resting upon it.
"Is not that your friend, Miss Read?" pursued Mr. Copeland. "A pretty casket, but how frail to enshrine the spirit that speaks in those orbs! There is stirring music there, or I am mistaken. Hear me, Miss Ross, before you annihilate me by a second look of reproof. We simple yeomen do not get away from our farms often; and not above once in a lifetime happen upon such a godsend as this is, for adding to our slender stock of information. I am a boy of an inquiring mind, and my venerable and respected father's parting injunction was to keep my eyes and ears open. You believe every word I am saying—I see it in your countenance. You do not fear to accept my arm for a promenade? Mr. Dana—au revoir."
"I am afraid you have chosen an indifferent cicerone," said Ida.
"How unjust! I repel the insinuation, and to prove my innocence, will not ask a question concerning any one but yourself."