“Does not the presence of a French Marquise show how Europe sides with us?” she demanded, triumphantly. “Quantities of noblemen have been the guests of the South 169 lately, and isn’t General Wolseley, the most brilliant officer of the British Army, with our General Lee now? I reckon all that shows how we are estimated. And now the ladies of title are coming over. Oh, tell me all about her; is she very grand, very pretty?”
“Grand enough for a queen over your new monarchy,” replied Delaven, who derived considerable enjoyment from teasing the girl about affairs political––“and pretty? No, she’s not that; she’s just Beauty’s self, entirely.”
“And you knew her well in Paris?” asked Evilena, with a hesitating suspicion as to why he had not announced such a wonderful acquaintance before––this woman who was Beauty’s self, and a widow. She wondered if she had appeared crude compared with those grand dames he had known and forgotten to mention.
“Oh, yes, I knew her while the old Marquise was living, that was when your mother and Col. Kenneth met her, but afterwards she took to travel for a change, and has evidently taken your South on her way. It will be happiness to see her again.”
“And brother Ken knew her, too?” asked the girl, with wide-open eyes; “and he never mentioned her, either––well!”
“The rascal!––to deprive you of an account of all the lovely ladies he met! But you were at school when they returned, were you not?––and Ken started off hot foot for the West and Indian fighting, so you see there were excuses.”
“And Kenneth does not know you are here still, and will not know the beautiful Marquise is here. Won’t he be surprised to see you all?”
“I doubt if I cause him such a shock,” decided Delaven; “when he gets sight of Judithe, Marquise de Caron, he will naturally forget at once whether I am in America or Ireland.”
“Indeed, then, I never knew Kenneth to slight a friend,” said the girl, indignantly.