Betty sat down and, inviting her visitor to do likewise, she said:
"In my character as mistress of the house, I would wish to introduce
you, sir, to my friend Mistress Mary Jones, of Elm Cottage close by, but
have not the honour of being acquainted actually with your name, albeit
I have conjectured."
"My name is John Johnstone, madam," he replied. "I have but now become
the possessor of Belton, near Wancote."
"Our new neighbour," cried Mary.
"Yes, I claim that honour," continued Mr. Johnstone.
"We are vastly pleased to make your acquaintance," said Mary, thinking
with some pride that she could boast to her friends of already knowing
the newcomer.
Mr. Johnstone acknowledged the compliment courteously, but he never took
his eyes off his young hostess, who appeared in them a miracle of grace
and beauty.
With the skill of a man of the world, he drew her into animated
conversation, gathering from her information respecting the country
round, the different meets of the hounds, the neighbours, the
tradespeople, the horses. Time slipped away almost unperceived, and
neither lady knew how it had sped, when Mr. Ives, mounted on his
handsome bay cob, rode up to the door.
Mr. Ives beheld with some surprise his daughter and her friend in full
converse with a stranger.
The scene was worthy of a Watteau's brush--the sun just sinking behind
the orchard trees gilding the edge of each leaf, shone on the dark red
of John Johnstone's dress, warmed the sombre hue of fair Betty's lincoln
green, and played on the blue and primrose of Mistress Mary's
flower-like costume.
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