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Updated: May 3, 2025
"You have an idea, Caroline?" cried Olivetta, struck by her look. "Wait!" Mrs. De Peyster stood silent for yet a few more moments. Then, completely her dignified and composed self, she stepped toward her bedroom. Olivetta's eyes followed her in wondering, worshipful fascination. Mrs. De Peyster opened the door. "Matilda!" The housekeeper instantly appeared. "Yes, Mrs. De Peyster."
Now the chiefs murmured approval of the words of de Peyster and Caldwell, as they had approved those of Timmendiquas. The great Wyandot himself seemed to be convinced, and said that it was well. Henry had listened to it all in silence, but now de Peyster turned his attention to him.
When from the rear drawing-room the grand piano sent upwards to Mrs. De Peyster its first strains, they were rapid, careless scales and runs. Quite as she'd expected. Then the player began Chopin's Ballade in G Minor. Mrs. De Peyster listened contemptuously; then with rebellious interest; then with complete absorption.
It was not one of the world's famous jewels; yet was of sufficient importance to be known, in a limited circle, as "The De Peyster Pearl." "I know the chain wouldn't bring much; but you could raise a lot on the pearl from a pawnbroker." Mrs. De Peyster tried to look shocked. "What! I take my pearl to a pawnbroker!" "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to go to a pawnshop, ma'am," Matilda apologized.
And fortunately the light from that one shaded bulb was almost lost in the great dining-room. Subconsciously Mrs. De Peyster recalled Matilda's injunction to "be humble," and she let her manner slump though at that moment she had no particular excess of dignity to discard. Jack sighted the food Matilda had left upon the table. With a swoop he was upon it. "Oh, joy! Squabs! Asparagus!"
But several large windows were opened wide and Henry conjectured that this effect half out of doors was created purposely. Thus it would be a place where the Indian chiefs could be entertained without feeling shut in. Colonel de Peyster evidently had prepared well. Huge metal dishes held bear meat, buffalo meat and venison, beef and fish.
"Oh, ma'am, never!" tragically, wildly. "Whatever is he going to do next?" "I'm sure I don't know, ma'am. Almost anything." "And whatever is going to happen to us next?" "Oh, ma'am, it's terrible to think about! I'm sure I can't even guess! Mr. Pyecroft, and all the others, and all these things happening I'm sure they'll be the death of me, ma'am!" Mrs. De Peyster sprang from her bed.
The nearest approach to an incident during this solitary period came to pass on the third night after Matilda's departure. On that evening Mrs. De Peyster became aware of a new voice in the house a voice with a French accent. It seemed familiar, yet for a time she was puzzled as to the identity of the voice's owner.
"I begged him to explain, but he just turned his back on me and walked away! And now, ma'am," wept Matilda, "I know he'll never explain, he's such a proud, obstinate, stiff-necked man! And I love him so, Mrs. De Peyster, I love him so! Oh, my heart is broke!" Mrs. De Peyster gazed at her sobbing serving-woman in chilled dismay.
De Peyster was not only a soldier, but being born in New York and having grown up there he prided himself upon being a man of the world with accomplishments literary and otherwise. The privilege of humming one's own poetry is great and exalting, and the commander's spirits, already high, rose yet higher.
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