The Master of Appleby: A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same LadyLynde, Francis
History
The Master of Appleby: A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same Lady
Lynde, Francis
Historical fiction; Love stories; North Carolina -- Fiction; South Carolina -- Fiction; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction
"By the Lord Harry! but this Master Harndon would seem to be a man of
substance," says Dick. And then: "Can you pick out a good horse in the
dark, Jack? It may come to a race for our necks, by and by, and these
cobs of ours are too broad-backed for speed."
I said I could, and so we went deeper into the cavalcade at the
hitch-rail and marked out two clean-limbed chargers, a gray and a
sorrel; this before we gave the final touches to our plan of action and
passed up the broad avenue to the manor house.
XLVI
HOW OUR PIECE MISSED FIRE AT HARNDON ACRES
For a doorkeeper some one or another of the officer guests had set a
sergeant on guard; but though the night was yet young the man passed us
into the great entrance hall with a hiccough and a wink that spoke thus
early of an open house and freely flowing good cheer.
As we had hoped to find it, this rout at Master Harndon's was a stifling
jam, and a good half of the guests were in civilian plain clothes,
neither Paris nor London having as yet reached so far into the Carolina
plantations to proscribe homespun and to prescribe the gay toggeries of
the courts. This for the men, I hasten to add; for then, as now, our
American dames and maids would put a year's cropping of a plantation on
their backs, thinking nothing of it; and there was no lack of shimmering
silks and stiff brocades, of high-piled _coiffures_, paint, patches and
powder at this merrymaking at Harndon Acres.
Lacking an introducer, and wanting, moreover, nothing save the leave to
have standing-room in the throng as lookers-on, we gave Mr. Marmaduke
Harndon, a sleek, rotund little gentleman, smirking and bowing and
tapping the lid of his silver snuff-box, a wide berth; and with an
agreement to meet later for the comparing of notes, Jennifer and I went
apart at the door of the ball-room, each to lose himself in the
assembled company as an otter slips into a pool, namely, without
ruffling it.
'Twas easily done. Winnsborough had by this time become a refuge camp
for all the loyalists in the region roundabout, and there were many in
the present company who were strangers one to another, uneasy, shifting
figures in the gay throng, beneath the notice alike of haughty dames and
prinking dandy officers. Beneath the notice, I say; yet I would qualify
this, for more than one of the epauletted macaronis trod upon my toes or
bustled me rudely in the crush till I trembled, not for my own
self-control, but for Richard's, making sure that the lad was having no
more gentlemanly welcome than I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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