As the sun descended, one slender ray of light, came quivering and trembling through the leaves of the arbour.
This little incident gave rise to a thousand fanciful illustrations on the part of Acmé. Her spirits were as buoyant as a child's; and her playful mood soon communicated itself to her travelling companions.
They compared the solitary ray to virtue in loneliness--to the flickering of a lamp in a tomb--to a star reflected on quicksilver--to the flash of a sword cutting through a host of foes--and to the light of genius illuming scenes of poverty and distress.
Thompson made his appearance, and announced the supper as being ready.
"This," said George, good-naturedly, "is an odd place, is it not, Thompson? Is it anything like the Lincolnshire Fens?"
"Not exactly, your honour!" replied the domestic, with perfect gravity, "but there ought to be capital snipe shooting here."
"Ah! che vero Inglese!" said the laughing Acmé.
They retraced their steps to the inn, and were ushered into the supper room, which was neither more nor less than the kitchen, although formerly, perhaps, the show room of the mansion. Around the deep-set fireplace, watching the simmering of the cauldron, were grouped some peasants.
The supper table was laid in one corner of the room; and although neither the accommodation nor the viands were very tempting, there was such a disposition to be happy, that the meal was as much enjoyed as if served up in a palace.
The repast concluded, Acmé rose; and observing a countryman with his arm bound up, enquired if he had met with an accident; and patiently listened to the prosy narrative of age.