“How thin you are!” she said, feeling his arms tenderly.
“Well, mother, when a man has been in his grave, ’tis not to be expected that he will look like one of the fatted kine. But I am plump as a rosy Cupid compared with what I have been; and this reminds me that I am hungry for some of your good cooking; do you and Betty get me up a bit of dinner while I look to my horse.”
But he knew his horse had been cared for, and instead of the stable, it was Joscelyn’s door he sought.
“I have but a little while left,” he said; “come and sit with us, that I may not lose sight of you for one of those blessed minutes. I am as a thirsty man with the cup held ever out of his reach.”
“I thought you would wish to talk with your mother and sister alone.”
“There is nothing I tell them that I would not quite as willingly trust to you; for though you are a Loyalist, yet you are loyal to your friends,” he said, smiling at his own pleasantry, and she laughed too. Long afterward those words came back to him with a pang.
As they crossed the street Mistress Strudwick hailed them from the sidewalk. “Hey, there, Richard! you are keeping bad company and will fall under suspicion, consorting with that young Tory,” she cried. “Are your despatches in the pocket next to her?—if so, beware!”
“I have them in my heart, Mistress Strudwick.”
“Then in faith are they already Joscelyn’s,” laughed the old lady, teasingly pinching the girl’s cheek as the two came up to her.
“Come, Mistress Strudwick, Richard wears not his heart on his sleeve.”