"
"But you were not shooting the deer, were you, sir?" inquired
Patience.
"No, I was not; nor have I killed any since last I saw you."
"I am glad that I can say that to my father," replied Patience; "it
will much please him. He said to me that he thought you capable of
much higher employment than any that could be offered here, and only
wished to know what you would accept. He has interest--great interest
--although just now at variance with the rulers of this country, on
account of the--"
"Murder of the king, you would or you should have said, Mistress
Patience. I have heard how much he was opposed to that foul deed, and
I honor him for it."
"How kind, how truly kind you are to say so!" said Patience, the tears
starting in her eyes; "what pleasure to hear my father's conduct
praised by you!"
"Why, of course, Mistress Patience, all of my way of thinking must
praise him. Your father is in London, I hear?"
"Yes, he is; and that reminds me that you must want some refreshment
after your walk. I will call Phoebe." So saying, Patience left the
room.
The fact was, Mistress Patience was reminded that she had been sitting
with a young man some time, and alone with him--which was not quite
proper in those times; and when Phoebe appeared with the cold viands,
she retreated out of hearing, but remained in the room.
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