Beatrice Boville and Other Stories

white rosette off her own dress to hang to his sword-knot, and all the 60th have like ribbons to this day. "If you've nothing better to do," continued their present Lieutenant-Colonel, "Come down

get leave for either the 12th or the 1st; but while my chums were shooting among the turnips, or stalking royals in Blackmount Forest, I had been tied to town, a solitary unit in

hunt with so much pleasure as when I'm on Qui Vive; so I dare say you, like me, prefer your own horses. I only hope we shan't have a confounded 'black frost;' but we must

hey pr

k the trouble to criticise them; but we've always been a good-looking race, I believe. I tel

I did. How did

shutters, lives in the back drawing-room, and says, 'Not at home to callers?' St. Aubyn is as poor as a rat, so I suppose he was glad to send Cecil here; and the Coverda

anada would have swallowed cask-washings to get a single waltz with her. All Toronto went mad on that score. You admired

ely pretty, but I thought her

k wall round herself, with iron spikes on the top, for fear, through looking at her

h to speak against her; it's nothing to me how she kills and slays, pro

ind of the philanthropist, who ran to warn his neighbor o

uch innocent impassiveness that one would have thought he had never seen her fair face out

h many another trophy of both hemispheres. We had sport of another kind, too, to the merry music of the silvery sledge-bells, over the crisp snow and the gleaming ice, while bright eyes shone on us under delicate lace veils, and little feet peeped from under heaps of sable and bearskin, and gay voices rang out in would-

her long Canadian eyes no more than was pleasant. It was as well so, perhaps, for it would not have been a good match for him, St. Aubyn being a broken-down gambler, who, having lost a princely fortune at Crocky's, and the Bads, married at fifty a widow with a little money, and migrated to Toronto, where he was a torment to himself and to everybody else. Vivian, meanwhile, was a great matrimonial c

quilly engaged in the House, as he r

but he himself cared little about his senatorial laurels, and was fervently hoping that there would be a row with Russia,

me, he had gone out with the Harkaway Hack on Christmas-eve. When the drag met us, with the four bays steaming in the night air, and the groom warming into a smile at the sight of the Colonel, the sleet was coming down heavily, and the wind blew as keen as a sabre's edge. The bays dashed along at a furious gallop under Vivian's hand, the frosty road

n, and shaking the snow off his hair and mustaches. "The old place looks c

hall, and, regardless of the snow, welcomed him ardently. They were proud of him, for he is a handsome dog, with

elcome to Deerhurst. In the library door I caught sight of a figure in white that I recognised as our belle of the sledge drives; she was looking at

s or Dresden figure, her coloring is so delicate, and yet brilliant; and if you were to see her Canadian eyes, her waving chestn

as Vivian shook hands with the St. Aubyn. "Where did you meet hi

aying with a little silver Cupid driving a barrowful of matches on

, not having been long out, had a habit of saying anything that came

was for so short a time I should have thought Colonel Viv

ink you must know your own power too well to think that any man w

vidently took them as satire. "At least, you've forgotten anything we talked about at To

ed it," murmured Vivian

old me you never complimented any woman you respected; so th

in to like you?

ean sod, if we're lucky enough to get out there." Cecil colored. Levinge's and Castlereagh's hard drinking and gloomy aspect at mess were

ery you would curl your mustaches. Surely the Iron Hand (wasn't tha

ieve in some people's liki

our sex," said Cecil, beating the hearth-

and we sometimes take out the foils in self-defence, though we are no match for those de

n as many months, then!" cried Cec

s, and from whom, being a great pianist, we all fled in mortal terror of a hailstorm of Thalberg and Hertz, and a cousin of Syd's, Cossetting, a young chap, a blondin, with fair curls parted down the centre, whose brains were small, hands like a gir

lessly. The Iron Hand very naturally sc

to see you! thought you'd killed yourself

Blanche, "I have told you for the last mo

diest dog-he once belonged to the Duc d'Aumale) has just discovered something quite new-there's no perfume

rget Sydney," muttered Blanche, as the Baron

leaning against the mantelpiece with that look of qui

him; then turning to Cossetting, talked over the "Fleurs

tossing his head back in the direction of the turquoise eyes, said to the discomfited Hora

you less' that you do me the

, rather, to put it more cou

d eyes sparkling dangerously. "You promote me to the same r

han that poor little fool with his lisp and his talk of the toilet, and

women do; "nor yet among the Pawnees to reverence a man according to his scalps. Though Sir Horace may not have follo

an endure that fop?"

nly. Wh

ld have fancied you more difficile, that is all; but Cos

you were '

y called him at Eton-I was wishing he could see Levinge and Castlereagh, just as épouvantails, to make him

her his troop, and all about him. (He has always been so kind to me, though he is eighteen years older-just twice my age.) Besides, I fou

so. Have you k

s. Coverdale. All her artifices and falsehoods annoy Cecil so; Ce

n crime, c'est u

am sure Cecil couldn't be nicer, if she were ever such an heiress. Mamma asked her for Christmas because she once knew Mr. St. Aubyn w

ay, to force her to acknowledge that he was more amusing than Horace Cos. But he seemed to me to weigh her in a criticising balance, as if he expected to find her wanting-as i