Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution — John Shaqi
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American RevolutionFord, Paul Leicester
History
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution
Ford, Paul Leicester
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
Thus prompted and enticed, the girl poured out the whole
story. "I wish I could show you the picture," she ended.
"She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw."
"Hast never looked in a mirror, Miss Janice?"
"Now thou 't just teasing."
"I' faith, 't is the last thought in my mind," said Evatt, heartily.
"You really think me pretty?" questioned the girl, with
evident delight if uncertainty.
Evatt studied the eager, guileless face questioningly turned to
him, and had much ado to keep from smiling.
"'T is impossible not to think it," he replied.
"Even after seeing the court beauties?" demanded Janice,
half doubtful and half joyous.
"Not one but would have to give the pas to ye, Miss Janice,"
protested Evatt, "could ye but be presented at St. James's."
"How lovely!" cried Janice, ecstatically, and then in sudden
abasement asserted, "Oh, I know you are--you are
only making fun of me!"
"Now, burn me, if I am!" insisted the man, with such
undoubted admiration in his manner as to confirm his words to
the girl. "By Heaven!" he marvelled to himself. "Who 'd
have believed such innocence possible? 'T is Mother Eve
before the fall! She knows nothing." A view of woman
likely to get Mr. Evatt into trouble. There is very little
information concerning the ante-prandial Eve, but from later
examples of her sex, it is safe to affirm that the mother of the
race knew several things before partaking of the tree of knowledge.
Man only is born so stupid as to need education.
"Why canst thou not let me have sight of this wondrous
female?" he went on aloud. "Surely thou art not really
fearsome to brave comparison."
"'T is not that, indeed," denied Janice, colouring, "but--
well--in a moment." The girl turned her back to Mr. Evatt,
and in a moment faced him once more, the miniature in her
hand. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Evatt looked at the miniature. "That she is," he assented.
"And strike me dumb, but she reminds me of some woman
I've once seen in London."
"Oh, how interesting!" exclaimed the girl. "What was
her name?"
"'T is exactly that I am asking myself."
"He must be well-born," argued Janice, "to have her
miniature; look at the jewels in her hair."
"Ah, my child, there 's more than the well-born wear--"
the man stopped short. "How know ye," he went on, "that
the bondsman comes by it rightly? The frame is one of price."
"I don't," the girl replied, "and the initials on the back
are n't his."
"'W. H. J. B.,'" read Evatt.
"He may have changed his name," suggested Janice.
"True," assented the man, with a slight laugh; "that 's a
mighty clever thought and gives us a clue to his real one."
"Perhaps you've heard of a man in London with a name to
fit W. H. J. B.?" said the maid, inquiringly.
Evatt turned away to conceal an unsuppressable smile,
while thinking, "The innocent imagines London but another
Brunswick!"
"Dost think I should make him take it back?" asked Janice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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