An instant afterward I was pressing the hand of Katy Dare, whom I had left near Buckland, and that of Tom Herbert, whom I had not seen since the fatal day of Yellow Tavern.
V. — LES FORTUNÉS.
The auburn ringlets of Katy Dare were as glossy as ever; her blue eyes had still the charming archness which had made me love her from the first. Indeed her demeanor toward me had been full of such winning sweetness that it made me her captive; and I now pressed the little hand, and looked into the pretty blushing face with the sentiment which I should have experienced toward some favorite niece.
Katy made you feel thus by her artless and warm-hearted smile. How refrain from loving one whose blue eyes laughed like her lips, and whose glances said, “I am happier since you came!”
And Tom was equally friendly; his face radiant, his appearance distinguished. He was clad in a new uniform, half covered with gold braid. His hat was decorated with a magnificent black plume. His cavalry boots, reaching to the knee, were small, delicate, and of the finest leather. At a moderate estimation, Tom’s costume must have cost him three thousand dollars!—Happy Tom!
He grasped my hand with a warmth which evidently came straight from the heart; for he had a heart—that dandy!
“Hurrah! old fellow; here you are!” Tom cried, laughing. “You came upon us as suddenly as if you had descended from heaven!”
“Whither you would like to send me back! Am I wrong, Tom?”