"No, not serial at all!" replied Virginia; "but I am afraid you would
find it very hard reading. I shouldn't try."
"Do you read it much, Miss Dare?"
"Oh, always! I am not really as light as I seem. But then I have an
advantage over you because I know the language."
By this time Dunbeg was awake again, and Miss Dare, satisfied
with her success, allowed herself to become more reasonable, until
a slight shade of sentiment began to flicker about their path.
The scattered party, however, soon had to unite again. The boat
rang its bell for return, they filed down the paths and settled
themselves in their old places. As they steamed away, Mrs. Lee
watched the sunny hill-side and the peaceful house above, until she
could see them no more, and the longer she looked, the less she
was pleased with herself. Was it true, as Victoria Dare said, that
she could not live in so pure an air? Did she really need the denser
fumes of the city? Was she, unknown to herself; gradually
becoming tainted with the life about her? or was Ratcliffe right in
accepting the good and the bad together, and in being of his time
since he was in it? Why was it, she said bitterly to herself; that
everything Washington touched, he purified, even down to the
associations of his house?
and why is it that everything we touch seems soiled? Why do I feel
unclean when I look at Mount Vernon? In spite of Mr. Ratcliffe, is
it not better to be a child and to cry for the moon and stars?
The little Baker girl came up to her where she stood, and began
playing with her parasol.
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