Audrey

That versatile and considerate gentleman, having had his draught, cried to

the coachman to go on, and was beginning upon the question of the militia,

when Haward, who had dismounted, appeared at the coach door. "I do not

think that I will go on to Williamsburgh with you, sir," he said. "There's

some troublesome business with my overseer that ought not to wait. If I

take this road and the planter's pace, I shall reach Fair View by sunset.

You do not return to Westover this week? Then I shall see you at

Williamsburgh within a day or two. Evelyn, good-day."

Her hand lay upon the cushion nearest him. He would have taken it in his

own, as for years he had done when he bade her good-by; but though she

smiled and gave him "Good-day" in her usual voice, she drew the hand away.

The Colonel's eyebrows went up another fraction of an inch, but he was a

discreet gentleman who had bought experience. Skillfully unobservant, his

parting words were at once cordial and few in number; and after Haward had

mounted and had turned into the side road, he put his handsome, periwigged

head out of the coach window and called to him some advice about the

transplanting of tobacco. This done, and the horseman out of sight, and

the coach once more upon its leisurely way to Williamsburgh, the model

father pulled out of his pocket a small book, and, after affectionately

advising his daughter to close her eyes and sleep out the miles to

Williamsburgh, himself retired with Horace to the Sabine farm.