How could he give up the peace, the contentment, the
hope he had enjoyed through the summer? The question suddenly took
a more definite form in his mind: How could he give up Asenath?
Yes--the quiet, unsuspecting girl, sitting beside him, with her lap
full of the September blooms he had gathered, was thenceforth a
part of his inmost life. Pure and beautiful as she was, almost
sacred in his regard, his heart dared to say--"I need her and claim
her!"
"Thee looks pale to-night, Richard," said Abigail, as they took
their seats at the supper-table. "I hope thee has not taken cold."
III.
"Will thee go along, Richard? I know where the rudbeckias grow,"
said Asenath, on the following "Seventh-day" afternoon.
They crossed the meadows, and followed the course of the stream,
under its canopy of magnificent ash and plane trees, into a brake
between the hills. It was an almost impenetrable thicket, spangled
with tall autumnal flowers. The eupatoriums, with their purple
crowns, stood like young trees, with an undergrowth of aster
and blue spikes of lobelia, tangled in a golden mesh of dodder.
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