III
In the moonlighted garden I found Bettie. But with her was Josiah Clarriker, Fairhaven’s leading businessman. He shook hands, and whatever delight he may have felt at seeing me was admirably controlled.
“Now don’t let me interfere with your eloquence,” I urged, “but go right on with the declamation.”
“I make no pretension to eloquence, Mr. Townsend. I was merely recalling to Miss Hamlyn’s attention the beautiful lines of our immortal poet, Owen Meredith, which run, as I remember them:
“ ‘I thought of the dress she wore that time
That we stood under the cypress-tree together,
In that land, in that clime,
And I turned and looked, and she was sitting there
In the box next to the stage, and dressed
In that muslin dress, with that full soft hair
And that jessamine blossom at her breast.’ ”
“But I am not permitted to wear flowers when Mr. Townsend is about,” said Bettie. “Did you know, Jo, that he is crazy about that too?”
“Well—! Anyhow, Meredith is full of very beautiful sentiments,” said Mr. Clarriker, “and I have always been particularly fond of that piece. It is called ‘Ox Italians.’ ”
“Yes, I have been previously affected by it,” said I, “and very deeply moved.”
“And so—as I was about to observe, Miss Hamlyn—you will notice that the poet Meredith gowned one of the most beautiful characters he ever created in white, and laid great stress upon the fact that her beauty was immeasurably enhanced by the dainty simplicity of her muslin dress. This fabric, indeed, suits all types of faces and figures, and is Economical too, especially the present popular mercerised waistings and vestings that are fast invading the realm of silks. We show at our Emporium an immense quantity of these beautiful goods, in more than a hundred styles, elaborate enough for the most formal occasions, at fifty and seventy-five cents a yard; and—as I was about to observe, Miss Hamlyn—I would indeed esteem it a favour should you permit me to send up a few samples tomorrow, from which to make a selection at, I need not add, my personal expense.
“You see, Mr. Townsend,” he continued, more inclusively, “we have no florists in Fairhaven, and I have heard that candy—” He talked on, hygienically now. …