I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap of life seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. Through the trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness far away. When I looked up again, she was gazing into the water.
"Are you glad to go?" I asked.
"Of course," answered the minx, readily. "I shall see the world, and meet people of consequence."
"So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!" I cried bitterly.
"How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we
here? The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth!
There is not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and
Virginia is scarce better provided."
"In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that she had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself.
"All in good time," said I. "We shall have no lack of noted men presently."
"Mere two-penny heroes," she retorted. "I know your great men, such as
Mr. Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams."
I began pulling up the grass savagely by the roots.
"I'll lay a hundred guineas you have no regrets at leaving any of us, my fine miss!" I cried, getting to my feet. "You would rather be a lady of fashion than have the love of an honest man,—you who have the hearts of too many as it is."