“But that would be Dutch William,” said the historical Hope; “and does he wear a sword and a cocked hat; and do you like him, Adelaide?”
Adelaide drew herself up.
“Hope! what are you thinking of!”
“What is the matter,” said the straight-forward Hope; “would it be wrong if you liked him? I am sure I like Halbert Graeme very well, and perhaps I will like Alick; but I like old Mossgray far better; and I wouldn’t be afraid to say it.”
“Young ladies should not speak so,” said Adelaide, in her dull solemnity.
Hope was very innocent:—she still thought of a young lady only as an ordinary mortal, and not as a professional person—for Hope, schemer and matchmaker as she was, had never been initiated into the system of mutual silliness with which boys and girls, just before they become men and women, surround each other; and although perfectly undefended from the romantic, and prone to be overpowered by it, whenever her hour should come, she had triple armour in her honest, artless temper, against all the affectations of the young lady and young gentleman period.
“Has Alick ever been in a battle?” inquired Hope with some awe.
“Oh, Hope, so many! Alick does not care about battles now,” said Adelaide; “if you only heard Captain Hyde and him!”
“I wonder if he ever killed anybody,” said Hope, with a shudder. “I wonder if he ever took away a man’s life—maybe somebody’s son, Adelaide, like poor Peter Delvie—or like the gentleman—”
“What gentleman, Hope?”