On the banks of the Piscataqua
mirth and feasting might go on, at least for a time. The Colonel looked
about him again at the fine pictures on the walls, at the rich furniture
fantastically carved, at his pretty youngest daughter, a girl of twelve,
as she sat at the spinnet going over some music that somebody might ask
her to play; perhaps it would be Lady Dacre herself whom she had seen
once and greatly admired. When a moment later Madam Archdale came into
the room he looked at her face and figure, still handsome and graceful.
Her flowing brocade was of a becoming color, and nothing richer, that he
knew of, had been worn in the Colonies. He felt a faint anxiety, which
Sir Temple would have set down as provincial, to see the attitude of the
English guests, for he flattered himself that he could do the honors of
a mansion better than Stephen whose perfect simplicity annoyed his
father when it let slip opportunities to make a fine impression. With
Stephen and Madam Archdale, who certainly did very well, the Colonel had
no doubt that Sir Temple and Lady Dacre had taken everything they found
as a matter of course, and had not looked for quite the sort of thing
that they were accustomed to at home.
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