After
dinner, as Eli was taking a quiet walk in the garden, Richard
Hilton approached him.
"Friend Mitchenor," said he, "I should like to have some talk with
thee."
"What is it, Richard?" asked the old man, breaking off some pods
from a seedling radish, and rubbing them in the palm of his hand.
"I hope, Friend Mitchenor," said the young man, scarcely knowing
how to approach so important a crisis in his life, "I hope thee has
been satisfied with my conduct since I came to live with thee, and
has no fault to find with me as a man."
"Well," exclaimed Eli, turning around and looking up, sharply,
"does thee want a testimony from me? I've nothing, that I know of,
to say against thee."
"If I were sincerely attached to thy daughter, Friend Mitchenor,
and she returned the attachment, could thee trust her happiness in
my hands?"
"What!" cried Eli, straightening himself and glaring upon the
speaker, with a face too amazed to express any other feeling.
"Can you confide Asenath's happiness to my care? I love her with
my whole heart and soul, and the fortune of my life depends on your
answer.
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