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Updated: May 18, 2025
He had evinced unmistakable signs of discontent and boredom before his intellectual henchman had thus struck in on his behalf; and he was really gratified for the rescue. Chandos was muttering some drunken words of insolence and anger; but Carew bore him down. "Pooh, pooh! Old Byam was right!" cried he, with boisterous mirth.
"Trixy, what does she remind you of?" "Cleopatra," cried Warry Trowbridge, with an attempt to be gallant. "Eternal vigilance," said Mr. Brent, and they sat down amidst the laughter, Lily Dallam declaring that he was horrid, and Mrs. Chandos giving him a look of tender reproach. But he turned abruptly to Honora, who was on his other side. "Where did you drop down from, Mrs. Spence?" he inquired.
"Can you read this riddle, Sir Eustace?" asked Chandos, looking rather suspiciously at the very faint glow which mantled in the white cheek of the wounded Knight. "I know nothing but what he has told you, Sir John," replied he.
"A curious case that of that young fellow, Yorke," said one. "I wonder whether he has been playing his game long with these competitive examinations? That Chandos must be a queer one, too son of Lord Fitzbacon's, is he not?" "I dare say," answered another, carelessly. "It is only vicariously that the juvenile aristocracy ever get an appointment in these days, having no wits of their own.
Others, more or less similar, followed during a period of two months or more. Nothing inducing the excessive wagging of tongues, Honora saw to that, although Mrs. Chandos kindly took the trouble to warn our heroine, a scene for which there is unfortunately no space in this chronicle; an entirely amicable, almost honeyed scene, in Honora's boudoir.
There are some wicked, wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of the worst, for he has got a wife already." It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out of her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a wild, appealing look.
"It is you yourself who are wearing mine," said Chandos. "It is false," replied Clermont; "and if it were not for the truce, I would soon show you to whom that device rightfully belongs." "Very well," replied Chandos. "To-morrow, when the truce is over, you will find me on the field ready to settle the question with you by force of arms."
A strange figure he seemed to his three squires, perched on his huge horse, with his eyes upturned and the wintry sun shimmering upon his bald head. "It is a noble prayer," he remarked, putting on his hat again, "and it was taught to me by the noble Chandos himself. But how fares it with you, father?
At that hour the last train they could have taken to reach the dinner-party in time was leaving the New York side of the ferry. "What will they think?" cried Honora. "They saw us leave Delmonico's at two o'clock, and they didn't know we were going to Westchester." It needed no very vivid imagination to summon up the probable remarks of Mrs. Chandos on the affair.
He asked for Sir John Chandos, and was told that high words had passed between him and the Prince respecting a hearth-tax, and that since he had returned to his government, and seldom or never appeared at the council board. It was the Earl of Pembroke who was all-powerful there.
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