Monde. “I—I believe I sha’n’t promise you.”
Mr. Cullen. “Promise at any rate to let me know it, whenever you are willing to have me with you.”
Monde, with the door half shut between her and him. “I believe I sha’n’t promise that either.”
Mr. Cullen, on his way, with the Judge, to the stable. “Then I will always make you wait for me like this.”
Well, well! I see I might write all night, with my scenes first to twentieth, inclusive. But I sha’n’t. I shall go to bed, after I have told you that the morning ride was altogether delightful. I never knew such a splendid morning. I never had so agreeable a companion in ride, or ramble, or—I shall say it, Edith, for it is the truth—or any where. And I fancy that he found me—quite tolerable. One could not well be otherwise with him about.
We found company here when we returned—two of the professors from Woodstock, together with Judge Brentwood, and his wife and daughter, from Craftsburg. They all dined here; and things never went off so strongly. I sat by aunt, and helped her serve the guests. When I do this, and she can now and then look over the table into uncle’s always clear, calm face, and listen to his manly expression, she can know pretty well what she is doing, even if she does sometimes venture upon a little conversation.
While we were giving them our adieus at the door, two other sleighs came up with high-headed horses and loud-jingling bells, taking along fresh visitors to spend the rest of the day and the evening with us. They were wealthy farmers, who wanted to talk of horses and oxen, and different breeds of sheep, with uncle; and farmers’ wives, who talked with most interest with aunt, when it was upon butter and cheese, and preserves and bread-making. This, as you must see, left Mr. Cullen and me pretty much to ourselves. But we were at no loss. I can’t see how one can ever be at a loss with him; for his vigorous and fresh thought readily comprehends all the philosophy of nature, of morals, and of life; and he communicates himself, as it were, and all that is in him, so magically that—
But, see if I am going to write all night! A happy New Year, dearest. Extend the greetings of the season to all in your house.
Thy Loving Monde.