Maryland -- History -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that
they were to stay the night. Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a
pillion behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress. Mr.
Bordley and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in coach
and four. With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured coat
and waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, and
pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes. How I envied him as he
descended the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with
the indifferent ease that was then the fashion. I fancied I saw his eyes
wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I
stood disconsolate before the fireplace.
"Why, Richard, my lad," says he, "you are quite grown since I saw you.
And the little girl that was your playmate,--Miss Dolly, I mean,--has
outstripped me, egad. She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like
a rose that blooms in a night."
I answered nothing at all. But I had given much to know whether my
stolid manner disconcerted him. Unconsciously I sought the bluff face
above the chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King
Charles's day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side.
Dr. Courtenay certainly caught the look. He opened his snuff-box,
took a pinch, turned on his heel, and sauntered off.
"What did you say, Richard?" asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing,
for he had seen the incident.
"I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing."
"Faith, 'twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I think,"
answered my friend. But he teased me a deal that night when Dolly danced
with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my honours. My young
lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a minuet as well as any
dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at the thought of the prize
slipping from my grasp. Now and then, in the midst of a figure, she
would shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say that her pinions were
strong now. But when it came to the country dances my lady comes up to
me ever so prettily and asks the favour.
"Tis a monstrous state, indeed, when I have to beg you for a reel!" says
she.
And so was I made happy.
CHAPTER VI
I FIRST SUFFER FOR THE CAUSE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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