He came.
She leaned out, and inquired, in a soft delicious whisper, as follows: "Are you happy, dearest?"
"Ay, Kate, the happiest of the happy."
"Then so am I," she murmured.
And now she slowly closed the window, and gradually retired from the eyes of her enraptured lover.
[CHAPTER XII]
But while Griffith was thus sweetly employed, his neglected guests were dispersing, not without satirical comments on their truant host. Two or three, however, remained, and slept in the house, upon special invitation. And that invitation came from Squire Peyton. He chose to conclude that Griffith, disappointed by the will, had vacated the premises in disgust, and had left him in charge of them: accordingly he assumed the master with alacrity, and ordered beds for Neville, and Father Francis, and Major Rickards, and another. The weather was inclement, and the roads heavy; so the gentlemen thus distinguished accepted Mr. Peyton's offer cordially.
There were a great many things sung and said at the festive board in the course of the evening; but very few of them would amuse or interest the reader, as they did the hearers. One thing, however, must not be passed by, as it had its consequences: Major Rickards drank bumpers apiece to the King, the Prince, Church and State, the Army, the Navy, and Kate Peyton. By the time he got to her, two-thirds of his discretion had oozed away in loyalty, esprit du corps, and port wine; so he sang the young lady's praises in vinous terms, and of course immortalized the very exploit she most desired to consign to oblivion: Arma viraginemque canebat. He sang the duel: and in a style which I could not, consistently with the interests of literature, reproduce on a larger scale. Hasten we to the concluding versicles of his song.
"So then, sir, we placed our men for the third time, and you may take my word for it, one or both of these heroes would have bit the dust at that discharge; but, by Jove, sir, just as they were going to pull trigger, in galloped your adorable daughter, and swooned off her foaming horse in the middle of us. Disarmed us, sir, in a moment, melted our valor, bewitched our senses; and the great God of War had to retreat before little Cupid, and the charms of beauty in distress."