“I must abide my fortune,” said Frederick, bowing; “and the more calmly, as I have won the game.”
“Won the game! How?—where?”
“Check!”
“How tauntingly he says it now,” said Kate, while her eyes sparkled brilliantly. “There is too much of the conqueror in all that.”
Frederick's glance met hers at the instant, and her cheek coloured deeply.
Who knows the source of such emotions, or of how much pleasure and pain they are made up! “And yet, I have not won,” said he, in a low voice.
“Then, be it a drawn battle,” said Kate. “You can afford to be generous, and I can't bear being beaten—that's the truth of it.”
“If I could but win!” muttered Travers, as he rose from the table; and whether she overheard the words, and that they conveyed more than a mere allusion to the game, she turned hastily away, and approached the window.
“Is that snow-ball your horse, Captain Travers?” said she, with a wicked smile.
“My father's favourite cob, by Jove!” exclaimed Frederick; and, as if suddenly aroused to the memory of his lengthy visit, made his 'adieus' with more confusion than was exactly suitable to a fashionable Guardsman—and departed.