“And I can see—” she pressed her hands to her eyes—“can see those boats pushing out from the shore—taking the soldiers off into the shining water—who knows where!”
“They tell me the town’s fiendish name is Little Tamotlee,” put in Mrs. Annandale.
“I can see the first pettiaugre with my father in the stern and Ensign Raymond standing in the prow, and waving his hat to me and—”
“Captain Howard is able to take care of himself,” Mrs. Annandale interrupted hastily, “and if Ensign Raymond is not—so much the worse for him! Has that besom laid out my frock yet?” She lifted her voice for the edification of Norah in the outer room.
“And you will excuse me, Aunt, if I don’t change my dress?” Arabella said, plaintively.
“I don’t suppose it would hurt the young man’s feelings,” Mrs. Annandale affected to consider. “He is too sodden in pride—those Mervyns all are. I suppose he might think, as we are so poor, that you have but a frock or two. Well, it is none of his business how little money Captain Howard can spare for your maintenance.”
“Oh, Aunt Claudia!” cried Arabella, genuinely offended—“if you think that!—And what are you wearing? Your murrey-colored satin?”
Thus it was that the young lady was resplendent in silver-shot gray paduasoy, shoaling and shimmering with white lights, made with short puffed sleeves slashed with cerise velvet, and she wore a fillet of cerise velvet in her golden hair. A delicate fichu of filmy Mechlin lace was draped over her shining neck and was caught with shoulder-knots of cerise velvet. She cast a very imperious glance upon Mervyn as she entered the parlor, which challenged his homage, but she had no need to assert her pride, for he was again in his old docile character, assuming naught of pre-eminence because of his worldly advantages, satisfied to bask in her smiles, yet a trifle conscious of his personal endowments, and carrying himself with a species of gallant self-confidence not displeasing in a handsome youth.
CHAPTER VII
It was Captain Howard’s faithful belief that a good cook was as important to the commander of a garrison as an efficient fort-adjutant. The soup was redolent of sherry; the trout had been prepared with an earnest solicitude that might be accounted prayer, and made a fine show arranged on a bed of water-cress that had sprouted before the late snows; the lamb, a rarity on the frontier, sent up an aromatic incense of mint sauce. All the brandied cherries had not gone as gifts to the Indians. A tart of preserved fruits, served with cream from a cherished cow, found friends all around the board; and a charming dish of Floating Island was so submerged in brandy that Mrs. Annandale opined it might be called—“Half seas over.”