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Updated: June 29, 2025
"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence. "I was so struck with it," said Constance, "that I have been looking ever since for an object to waste my affections upon." "Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?" "I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary," said Mr. Stackpole; "I can't anticipate it.
She had been brought up among the Quakers, and though now, and for many years, a staunch Presbyterian, she still retained a tincture of the calm efficient gentleness of mind and manner that belongs so inexplicably to them. More womanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan's blue eye, a woman need not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had not so much.
"My dear Constance," said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks will stand a much better chance if you come away and leave her in peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in her ears?" "Mr. Carleton and I, Mamma, are conferring upon measures of relief, and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already." "For which I am very little to be thanked," said Mr. Carleton.
"I was so struck with it," said Constance, "that I have been looking ever since for an object to waste my affections upon." "Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?" "I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary," said Mr. Stackpole; " I can't anticipate it. I should have said the sentiment was quite soft and tender enough for a woman."
Ringgan's breast, gazing out into the fire as gravely as if the panorama of life were there. She little heeded at first her grandfather's cheering talk, she knew it was for a purpose. "Aint it most time for you to go to bed?" whispered Mr. Ringgan, when he thought the purpose was effected. "Shall I tell Cynthy to get you your milk, grandpa?" said the little girl, rousing herself.
Ringgan was still busy with his newspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on various errands, Fleda shut up in the distant room with the muffins and the smoke; when there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Ringgan's "Come in!" was followed by the entrance of two strangers, young, welldressed, and comely. They wore the usual badges of seekers after game, but their guns were left outside.
He was found not in the house, but abroad in the field with his men, loading an enormous basket wagon with corn-stalks. At Mr. Ringgan's shout he got over the fence, and came to the wagon- side. His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of the open nobility of mien which nature had stamped upon that of his brother. "Fine morning, eh?" said he. "I'm getting in my corn-stalks."
Ringgan's welcome, however, was and would have been the same thing anywhere genial, frank, and dignified; neither he nor it could be changed by circumstances. Mr. Carleton admired anew, as he came forward, the fine presence and noble look of his old host; a look that it was plain had never needed to seek the ground; a brow that in large or small things had never been crossed by a shadow of shame.
"You are too absurd!" said Florence, reaching over for a sausage. "Dear Constance!" said Fleda, half laughing, "why do you talk so?" "Constance, behave yourself," said her mother. "Mamma," said the young lady, "I am actuated by a benevolent desire to effect a diversion of Miss Ringgan's mind from its gloomy meditations, by presenting to her some more real subjects of distress."
"My dear Constance," said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks will stand a much better chance if you come away and leave her in peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in her ears." "Mr. Carleton and I, mamma, are conferring upon measures of relief, and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already." "For which I am very little to be thanked," said Mr. Carleton.
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