"Of course, there is no one in Hanover whom you, as a Ruthven, would
stoop to marry," she said, fixing her eyes inquiringly upon Anna, who
was pulling to pieces the wild flowers she had gathered, and thinking
of that twilight hour when she had talked with their young clergyman
as she never talked before. Of the many times, too, when they had met
in the cottages of the poor, and he had walked slowly home with her,
lingering by the gate, as if loth to say good-by, she thought, and the
life she had lived since he first came to Hanover, and she learned to
blush when she met the glance of his eye, looked fairer far than the
life her aunt, had marked out as the proper one for a Ruthven.
"You have not told me yet. Is there any one in Hanover whom you think
worthy of you?" Mrs. Meredith asked, just as a footstep was heard, and
the rector of St. Mark's came round the rock where they were sitting.
He had called at the farmhouse, bringing the letter, and with it a
book of poetry, of which Anna had asked the loan.
Taking advantage of her guest's absence, Grandma Humphreys had gone to
a neighbor's after a recipe for making a certain kind of cake of which
Mrs. Meredith was very fond, and only Esther, the servant, and
Valencia, the smart waiting maid, without whom Mrs.
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