It
was late when the strangely assorted convives separated. "I will now
send Simpson home with you, in my carriage," solicitously remarked
Johnstone, as the hour grew late. "There is a prince's ransom on
that sword--and, you did not bring your noble charger! You must
treat him well for my sake--for my daughter's sake!"
"Will Miss Johnstone return soon?" said the heart-hungry lover,
catching at this last straw.
"It is undetermined! I may send them home in a few months. But,
if I have any little influence left, 'at Headquarters,' that shall
always be exerted for you. I am always glad to meet you, your
father's son, for Colonel Hardwicke was a true soldier of the olden
days--brave, loyal, and beyond reproach."
The lover's beating heart was smothered in this flowing honey. "Ah!
I must trust to Simpson!" he mused. "The old man is a sly one!"
Politely bowed out by the stern, lonely old man, Major Hardwicke
departed, his conversational guns spiked with the deft compliments,
as the mighty clatter of the returning General filled the courtyard
of the Marble House.
In the soft, wooing stillness of the night, Simpson, at the young
Major's side, found time to whisper: "Never let the Guv'nor see
us together! He's a sly one! There's a honey-baited trap in this!
The girl's been spirited off to Europe! I only know that--but, as
yet, no more."
"What do you mean? Is he lying to me?" gasped Hardwicke, with a
sinking heart.
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