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Updated: May 29, 2025
He answered Jacqueline's welcome and Miss Dandridge's bright blush and brief "How d'ye do?" with the not-too-profound bow, the subdued and deprecatory smile, and the comparative absence of compliment that church demanded, then, seating himself, leaned forward with his arm upon the back of their pew and entered into low-toned conversation. "They were early." "Yes: too early!"
"I want," whispered Fairfax Cary, as they left the table, "to talk to you about about two weeks from now. Don't you think it would be sweet and shady this morning, under the catalpa tree?" He managed to touch her hand, and she turned her velvety eyes upon him with both laughter and moisture in their black depths. "I've chosen the place for Unity Dandridge's grave. Would you like to see it?
"But I want him out of the blue room, and out of Fontenoy! and now, Dick, I've got a piece to write this morning on the designs of Aaron Burr." At five in the afternoon Cary returned, quiet and handsome, ready with his account of matters at Greenwood, from the stable, upon which Major Churchill must pronounce, to the drawing-room paper, which awaited Miss Dandridge's sentence.
As he passed us, with a high bound he seized the hat from Dandridge's head, threw the cap on the pavement, and disappeared like a flash around the corner. While seated in a confectionery, enjoying a watermelon we had purchased at a nearby fruitstand, a gentleman came in and insisted on presenting us with a bottle of blackberry brandy, which he recommended as an excellent tonic.
The younger Cary rushed to Miss Dandridge's defence. "Well, sir, in itself the Marseillaise is a very noble air. It is better than Jefferson's March!" "Oh, a very good air to go to the gallows by!" snapped Uncle Edward. "Jacqueline, some cream!"
Nevertheless, it appears from the journals of the House that, whatever may have been the admiration of the committee for the eloquence of Mr. Dandridge's advocate, they did not award the seat to Mr. Dandridge.
His funeral was largely attended even by white persons. Martha Dandridge's first husband was a man much older than herself and her second was almost a year younger.
Dandridge's farm; and the second night I worked my way up near the house. Knowing all the servants, I was watching a chance to send word to the coachman, Alfred Dandridge, that I wanted him to tell my wife that I was not gone. I went down to his cabin, in the quarters; and, after a short time he came.
Unity sat beneath the catalpa, elbow on knee and chin in hand, studying a dandelion at her feet. The poetical works of Mr. Alexander Pope lay at a distance, face down. The sky between the broad catalpa leaves was very blue, and a long ray of sunshine sifted through to gild the tendrils of Miss Dandridge's hair and to slide in brightness down her flowery gown.
Pretty soon he heard a merry treble voice piping out: "Is ze gockter tum to oo house?" and Lawrence saw little Martha toddling toward him. Little Martha was Mistress Dandridge's baby girl. The Dandridges lived a short way beyond the oak grove, and little Martha loved to visit Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Mary, as she called Lawrence and his wife.
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