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Updated: May 21, 2025
When the king's troops return to your rebel town we shall come back, I suppose." "I am sorry," I said. "All my friends are flitting like swallows. Poor Mr. Franks is to go, it seems, and the gay Miss Rebecca; but she likes the redcoats best, and another is of the same mind, I fear." "I am not over-grieved to go myself," said Darthea, "and we will not quarrel just now about the redcoats.
It is a great estate, and rich, and the old house we have its picture, Darthea. Madam Wynne of Wyncote, I shall come and visit you." The old lady was flushed, and foolishly eager over this vain ambition. Darthea stood in the brilliant firelight, her eyes set on the deed. "I cannot understand it," she said.
"I see," said Darthea, not looking at me; "now I understand fully; I did not before. But will you think it strange if if I say I, a good and loyal woman that you should go, and soon?" Then there was a long pause, and she added, "When will this cruel war end?" "God knows," said I. "Thank thee; thou art right, Darthea."
She had a pretty picture to show me of Wyncote, and the present man was to be made a baronet. Can a good girl be captured by such things? But the man has some charm, Hugh. These black men" so we called those of dark complexion "are always dangerous, and this special devil has a tongue, and can use it well." I listened to my aunt, but said little. What chance had I to make Darthea credit me?
"Indeed!" "I have been so honoured as to see some of these famous epistles. I think Darthea is pleased to torment me at times; it is her way, as you may happen to know. Also, and this is more serious, you have yourself written to Darthea." "I have, and several times. Why not?" "These letters," he went on, "she has refused to show to me.
"But Darthea was now quite lost to the common ways of life. She went on like a person questioning herself, as it sounded to me. 'Arthur Wynne asked his name. Is that so? "Delaney said, 'Yes, now, as I saw, quite troubled, and wishing himself out of it, I dare say. "'And he knew he was in rags, starved, dying, and he left him? continued Darthea, 'He left him to die. "'Yes; but "'No matter.
One fine crisp morning in February we were breasting at a walk the slippery incline of Chestnut Hill, when Darthea, who had been unusually silent, said quite abruptly: "I am going away, Mr. Wynne." I was instantly troubled. "Where?" I said. "Next week, and to New York. My aunt can no longer stand all this mob of rebels. We go to New York, and for how long I know not.
Howe has sent troops into Jersey, and weakened his hold on the village, or so it is thought. In fact, you know that, for it was you that fetched the news. If I should get killed you will tell your aunt not to forget me and Darthea too. And my father my father, Hugh I have written to him and to Miss Wynne in case of accident." The day before a fight Jack was always going to be killed.
Arthur won the good doctor, as he did most people, and, despite all expectations, was said to be mending fast, being much petted by the Tory ladies; but if Darthea had seen him or not I did not then learn. My affairs in Maryland, where we had many slaves and large interests, kept me busy until near the close of December, when I set out to rejoin the staff in Philadelphia, my leave being up.
Arthur Wynne, and I began to suspect with my aunt that more than Darthea, or stupid jealousy, or the memory of a blow, might be at the bottom of his disposition to injure me. It may seem strange to those who read what a quiet old fellow writes, that I should so frankly confess my hatred of my cousin. Nowadays men lie about one another, and stab with words, and no one resents it.
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