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Updated: June 2, 2025
Dorothy laughed, and pointed to a great arm-chair of leather and oak. "I will sit there; place it by the window, cousin." I placed the chair for her; she seated herself with unconscious grace, and motioned me to bring another chair for myself. "Are you going to let me in?" cried Ruyven. "Oh, go to the " began Dorothy, then flushed and glanced at me, asking pardon in a low voice.
But I could not endure to ride; a nerve-racking restlessness was on me, a desire for movement, for utter exhaustion, so that I could no longer have even strength to think. Ruyven, protesting, climbed into his dragoon-saddle; Sir George walked beside him and I with Sir George.
"Oh, come, come," laughed Sir George, "Colonel Ormond has had more bullets driven at him than our Legion pouches in their bullet-bags!" "A man let drive at me!" breathed Ruyven, in rapture. "I was not hit, cousin! A man let drive at me, and I heard the bullet!" "Nonsense!" said Sir George, mischievously; "you heard a bumble-bee!" "He always says that," retorted Ruyven, looking at me.
A foot-race? and I'll bet you your ten shillings on myself! Ten to five to three to one! No? Then hush your silly head!" "Because," said Ruyven, sullenly, coming up to me, "she can outrun me with her long legs, she gives herself the devil's own airs and graces. There's no living with her, I tell you. I wish I could go to the war."
Then quietly the last healths were given and pledged; Dorothy rose, and we all stood while she and Lady Schuyler passed out, followed by the other ladies; and I had to restrain Ruyven, who had made plans to follow Marguerite Haldimand.
"Sir George Covert is a good fellow," remarked Ruyven, with a patronizing nod at Dorothy; "but I always said he was too old for you. You should see how gray are his temples when he wears no powder." "He has fine eyes," murmured Cecile. "He's too old; he's forty," repeated Ruyven. "His legs are shapely," added Cecile, sentimentally. Dorothy gave a despairing upward glance at me.
And my response pleasing him, he made off straight towards Marguerite Haldimand, who viewed his joyous arrival none too cordially, I thought. Poor Ruyven! Must he so soon close the gate of Eden behind him? leaving forever his immortal boyhood sleeping amid the never-fading flowers.
I think, without meaning any unkindness, that Miss Haldimand, the Canadian beauty, was somewhat surprised that I had not already fallen a victim to her lovely presence; but, upon reflection, set it down to my stupidity; for presently she devoted her conversation exclusively to Ruyven, whose delight and gratitude could not but draw a smile from those who observed him.
"Is it fair for Dorothy to cast her own hatchet?" asked Harry. "Give me Ruyven's," she said, half vexed. Aught that touched her sense of fairness sent a quick flame of anger to her cheeks which I admired. "Keep your own hatchet, cousin," I said; "you may have need of it." "Give me Ruyven's hatchet," she repeated, with a stamp of her foot which Ruyven hastened to respect.
"I ask pardon," stammered Ruyven; "had there been impropriety in what that fool, Sir John, did I should not have spoke, but have acted long since, Cousin Ormond." "I'm sure of it," I said, warmly. "Forgive me, Ruyven." "Oh, la!" said Dorothy, her lips twitching to a smile, "Ruyven only said it to plague me.
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