"Do you meet with much success, sir?" inquired Edward Walcott, when within
a convenient distance for conversation.
"I have taken but one fish," replied the angler, in an accent which his
hearers could scarcely determine to be foreign, or the contrary. "I am a
stranger to the stream, and have doubtless passed over many a likely place
for sport."
"You have an angler's eye, sir," rejoined Edward.
"I observed that you made your casts as if you had often trod these banks,
and I could scarcely have guided you better myself."
"Yes, I have learned the art, and I love to practise it," replied the man.
"But will not the young lady try her skill?" he continued, casting a bold
eye on Ellen. "The fish will love to be drawn out by such white hands as
those."
Ellen shrank back, though almost imperceptibly, from the free bearing of
the man. It seemed meant for courtesy; but its effect was excessively
disagreeable. Edward Walcott, who perceived and coincided in Ellen's
feelings, replied to the stranger's proposal.
"The young lady will not put the gallantry of the fish to the proof, sir,"
he said, "and she will therefore have no occasion for your own."
"I shall take leave to hear my answer from the young lady's own mouth,"
answered the stranger, haughtily.
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