that she again had somebody to love, and be careful of, and for whom
she might vex and tease herself with the petty troubles of daily life.
It was nearly noon, when she looked forth from the door, and descried
three personages of note coming along the street, through the hot
sunshine and the masses of elm-tree shade. At length they reached her
gate, and undid the latch.

"See, Ralph!" exclaimed she, with maternal pride, "here is Squire
Hawkwood and the two other selectmen coming on purpose to see you!
Now do tell them a good long story about what you have seen in foreign
parts."

The foremost of the three visitors, Squire Hawkwood, was a very
pompous, but excellent old gentleman, the head and prime mover in all
the affairs of the village, and universally acknowledged to be one of
the sagest men on earth. He wore, according to a fashion, even then
becoming antiquated, a three-cornered hat, and carried a silver-headed
cane, the use of which seemed to be rather for flourishing in the air
than for assisting the progress of his legs. His two companions were
elderly and respectable yeomen, who, retaining an ante-revolutionary
reverence for rank and hereditary wealth, kept a little in the
Squire's rear. As they approached along the pathway, Ralph Cranfield
sat in an oaken elbow-chair, half unconsciously gazing at the three
visitors, and enveloping their homely figures in the misty romance
that pervaded his mental world.

"Here," thought he, smiling at the conceit,--"here come three elderly
personages, and the first of the three is a venerable sage with a
staff. What if this embassy should bring me the message of my fate!"