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Having sent a portion of the troops to Portsmouth, Lieutenant-general Lord Cornwallis selected for himself an army of about five thousand men, three hundred dragoons, and three hundred light horsemen; crosses to Westover. The Americans had only about three thousand men, formed of one thousand two hundred regulars, fifty dragoons, and two thousand militia.
It brought only a hundred and sixty; but the time had almost come already when Westover thought it brought too much. Now, the letter from Mrs. Durgin reminded him that he had never sent her the photograph of the picture which he had promised her.
When they arrived at the foot of the lane, mounting to the farm, Westover saw what changes had been made in the house. There were large additions, tasteless and characterless, but giving the rooms that were needed. There was a vulgar modernity in the new parts, expressed with a final intensity in the four-light windows, which are esteemed the last word of domestic architecture in the country.
"At any rate," Jeff added, "I haven't got anything to say against it. Mr. Westover, I've always wanted to say one thing to you. Then I came to your room that night, I wanted to complain of Mrs. Vostrand for not letting me know about the engagement; and I wasn't man enough to acknowledge that what you said would account for their letting me make a fool of myself.
"Terry's problem was easier than Mr. West's on his Virginia farm, where the soil is acid and hence limestone must be used liberally in order that clover and other legumes may be grown successfully. Even the supply of phosphorus and other mineral elements is probably greater in Terry's farm in northeastern Ohio than in the soil of Westover.
Westover felt his heart rise in indignant sympathy. "There isn't any one he knows to compare with you!" he said, and in this he was thinking mainly of Bessie Lynde. "You're worth a thousand If I were if he's half a man he would be proud I beg your pardon! I don't mean but you understand " Cynthia put her head far out of the window and looked along the steep roof before them.
"Oh, nothin'. You get a chance some time to ask Jeff who done most of his studyin' for him at the Academy." This hint was not so darkling but Westover could understand that Whitwell attributed Jeff's scholarship to the help of Cynthia, but he would not press him to an open assertion of the fact.
Looking backward across the marshes, we could see the white railing on Gadabout's upper deck and could catch the flutter of her flags through the openings in the trees. As we neared Westover, a slope led to higher land and to a riverward, side entrance to the grounds. Passing through this, a tangle of vines swinging with the great iron gate, we followed the walk toward the house.
"Don't let him get away without seeing the laundry, mother," her son jeered at a final air of absent-mindedness in her, and she defiantly accepted his challenge. "Jeff's mad because he wasn't consulted," she explained, "and because we don't run the house like his one-horse European hotels." "Oh, I'm not in it at all, Mr. Westover," said the young fellow. "I'm as much a passenger as you are.
Something of the insensate pride that mothers have in their children's faults, as their quick tempers, or their wastefulness, or their revengefulness, expressed itself in her tone; and it was perhaps this that irritated Westover. "I hope he'll never let her know it. I don't think a strong will is a thing to be prized, and I shouldn't consider it one of Cynthia's good points.
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