As I passed into the hall, I saw Mr.
Winthrop coming down from his own room; but I did not pause to speak,
thinking he was on his way to the library. My hand was on the door, when
he called me back.
"After inviting me to church, are you going without me?"
I turned and saw that he was taking his hat.
"Are you really going?"
"Yes, really. I would be rude, indeed, to slight your first invitation."
"Do you come this morning merely because I invited you?" I asked,
incredulously.
"Do you consider it courteous to inquire too minutely into the motives of
your friends?"
I was silent while I stood for a few seconds regarding him closely. I
wondered if he had not taken special pains with his toilet; for I had
never seen him look so regally handsome before. He may have detected my
admiring gaze; for he said, lightly:
"What is wrong, that you favor me with such scrutinizing glances?"
"There is nothing wrong, Mr. Winthrop, so far as my eyes can penetrate. I
trust that to clearer vision than mine what lies deeper than human gaze
can pierce, is equally perfect."
"Is it your custom, little one, to pay your male acquaintances such open
compliments?"
"It was not a compliment. I only spoke the truth," I said, quietly, as we
walked side by side down the lilac-bordered footpath, the way we always
went to church when we walked, as it cut off a-half mile or more. It was
a charming walk in summer; but now the low bushes looked common and
ungraceful, stripped of their foliage; but the ground was high, and over
their tops we could see the distant hills and the sun-kissed sea.
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