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Updated: June 16, 2025
"I am glad of that," said Clarissa, putting her slender hand in Gulian's and looking with grateful eyes up at him, as he stood beside her chair. "Is he the aide-de-camp you told me of, Gulian, for whom you had taken a liking?" "The same; a fine, manly fellow, the second son of Lord Herbert Yorke, one of my father's old friends in England.
"You sent your message by him," with a scornful wave of her hand toward Gulian's retreating figure; "through him, then, receive my reply." "I will not," said Geoffrey firmly, as the door closed behind Verplanck. "Sweetheart, will you listen to me?" "It is useless," murmured Betty, with a choking sob. "I was mad to even dream it might be possible. Gulian has made it all too plain to me."
"I have somewhat to say to you, Betty," began Gulian, with an air of importance, which set Betty's nerves on edge at once. If there was one thing more than another that annoyed her it was Gulian's pompous manner. "Will you come inside before going upstairs? I will not detain you long."
Gulian's strict sense of justice told him that Betty was right in seizing the means at hand to rescue her brother, but that did not lessen his irritation at being used for anything which appertained to the Whig cause, for Gulian Verplanck was a Tory to the backbone.
"Nothing, Betty?" said a manly voice behind her, as Yorke himself crossed the threshold, where for the last few seconds he had been an angry listener to Gulian's blunders. "Surely you will grant me a moment to plead on my own behalf?" "And wherefore?" cried Betty.
Gulian's usually calm and somewhat phlegmatic temper had been moved to its depths by the startling and most unexpected revelation of Oliver Wolcott's identity with the spy, whose escape Betty had aided and in which he was also indirectly implicated by the use of his horses and servant.
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