“Ay, and when I mentioned Margaret Helmstedt’s name, his eyes flashed fire! he clapped his hand where his sword was not, and looked as if he would have run me through the body!”
“And gave you no satisfaction, I daresay?”
“None whatever—neither denying nor affirming anything.”
“And what have you done with the villain? I hope you have locked him up in the cellar!” exclaimed the indignant Nellie.
“Not I, indeed; if I had, the case would have been hopeless.”
“I—I do not understand you,” said Nellie.
The clergyman looked all around the room, and then replied:
“There are no giddy young people here to repeat the story. I will tell you. Grace is a fool! All girls are, I believe! A scarlet coat with gilt ornaments inflames their imaginations—a wound melts their hearts! And our wounded prisoner, between his fine scarlet and gold coat and his broken rib—(well, you understand me!)—if I had locked him up in the cellar, or in the best bedroom, my girl would have straightway imagined me a tyrannical old despot, and my captive would have grown a hero in her eyes! No, I invited him to dinner, drank his health, played a game of backgammon with him, and afterward returned him his parole, and privately signified that he was at liberty to depart. And however my silly girl feels about it, she cannot say that I persecuted this ‘poor wounded hussar.’”
“But, the d——l! you do not mean to say that this villain aspired to Grace also?” exclaimed Colonel Houston, in dismay.
“How can I tell? I do not know that he did aspire to Margaret, or that he didn’t aspire to Grace! All I know is, that Grace behaved like a fool after his first departure and worse, if possible, after his second. But Margaret, you say, has returned?”