The visit which the captain had come out to receive, instead of producing any uneasiness in his family, was, in truth, highly agreeable, and very opportune.  It was Evert Beekman, with an old friend, attended by a party of chain-bearers, hunters, &c., on his way from the “Patent” he owned in the neighbourhood—­that is to say, within fifty miles—­and halting at the Hutted Knoll, under the courteous pretence of paying his respects to the family, but, in reality, to bring the suit he had now been making to Beulah for quite a twelvemonth, to a successful termination.

The attachment between Evert Beekman and Beulah Willoughby was of a character so simple, so sincere, and so natural, as scarce to furnish materials for a brief episode.  The young man had not made his addresses without leave obtained from the parents; he had been acceptable to the daughter from the commencement of their acquaintance; and she had only asked time to reflect, ere she gave her answer, when he proposed, a day or two before the family left New York.

To own the truth, Beulah was a little surprised that her suitor had delayed his appearance till near the close of May, when she had expected to see him at the beginning of the month.  A letter, however, was out of the question, since there was no mode of transmitting it, unless the messenger were sent expressly; and the young man had now come in person, to make his own apologies.

Beulah received Evert Beekman naturally, and without the least exaggeration of manner, though a quiet happiness beamed in her handsome face, that said as much as lover could reasonably desire.  Her parents welcomed him cordially, and the suitor must have been dull indeed, not to anticipate all he hoped.  Nor was it long before every doubt was removed.  The truthful, conscientious Beulah, had well consulted her heart; and, while she blushed at her own temerity, she owned her attachment to her admirer.  The very day of his arrival they became formally betrothed.  As our tale, however, has but a secondary connection with this little episode, we shall not dwell on it more than is necessary to the principal object.  It was a busy morning, altogether; and, though there were many tears, there were also many smiles.  By the time it was usual, at that bland season, for the family to assemble on the lawn, everything, even to the day, was settled between Beulah and her lover, and there was a little leisure to think of other things.  It was while the younger Pliny and one of the Smashes were preparing the tea, that the following conversation was held, being introduced by Mr. Woods, in the way of digressing from feelings in which he was not quite as much interested as some of the rest of the party.

“Do you bring us anything new from Boston?” demanded the chaplain.  “I have been dying to ask the question these two hours—­ever since dinner, in fact; but, somehow, Mr. Beekman, I have not been able to edge in an inquiry.”