“He said he was not hurt worth mention.” (I began to wonder what size of a hurt Mr Keith would think worth mention.) “Yes, I shall see him again this evening or to-morrow.”
“Oh, do give him the kindest words and thanks from me,” said Flora, commanding her voice with some difficulty. “I wish I could have seen him! Let me tell Annas—she may wish—” and away she went to fetch Annas, while Mr Raymond looked after her with a look which I thought half sad and half diverted.
“Will you tell me,” I said, “how Mr Keith ran any risk?”
“Why, you do not suppose, young lady, that London is in the hands of the rebels?”
“The rebels!—Oh, you are a Whig; I see. But the Prince is coming, and fast. Is he not?”
“Not just yet, I think,” said Mr Raymond, with an odd look in his eyes.
“Why, we hear it from all quarters,” said I; “and the red ribbons are all getting white.”
Mr Raymond smiled. “Rather a singular transformation, truly. But I think the ribbons will be well worn before the young Chevalier reviews his army in Hyde Park.”
“I will not believe it!” cried I. “The Prince must be victorious! God defends the right!”
“God defends His own,” said Mr Raymond. “Do you see in history that He always defends the cause which you account to be right?”