"I met Josiah Comly in the road," said he, one day at dinner.
"He's just come from Philadelphia, and brings bad news of Richard
Hilton. He's taken to drink, and is spending in wickedness the
money his father left him. His friends have a great concern about
him, but it seems he's not to be reclaimed."
Abigail looked imploringly at her husband, but he either
disregarded or failed to understand her look. Asenath, who had
grown very pale, steadily met her father's gaze, and said, in a
tone which he had never yet heard from her lips--
"Father, will thee please never mention Richard Hilton's name when
I am by?"
The words were those of entreaty, but the voice was that of
authority. The old man was silenced by a new and unexpected power
in his daughter's heart: he suddenly felt that she was not a girl,
as heretofore, but a woman, whom he might persuade, but could no
longer compel.
"It shall be as thee wishes, Asenath," he said; "we had best forget
him."
Of their friends, however, she could not expect this reserve, and
she was doomed to hear stories of Richard which clouded and
embittered her thoughts of him.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354