He began to occupy her mind to a morbid and most
painful extent, really much affecting her enjoyment. His sad and
shabby figure, with its mutely reproachful face, haunted her. All that
might have been to his disadvantage compared with the refined and
cultivated circle about her, was overcome by the pathos and dignity
with which her sense of having done him wrong invested him. Such was
her unenviable state of mind, when one evening, a week or ten days
after the affair at West Stockbridge, one of the young men at the
house said to her gayly:
"May I hope, Miss Edwards, not to be wholly forgotten if I should fall
on the gory field to-morrow?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"What, didn't you know? General Patterson is fearful the Capuan
delights of Stockbridge will sap our martial vigor, and is going to
lead us against the foe in his lair at dawn to-morrow."
"Where is his lair this time?" asked Desire, carelessly.
"We've heard that two or three hundred of the rascals have collected
out here at Lee to stop a petty court, and we're going to capture
them."
"By the way, too, Miss Edwards," broke in another, "your admirer,
Hamlin, is at the head of them, and I've no doubt his real design is
to make a dash on Stockbridge, and carry you off from the midst of
your faithful knights.
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