men."

And the stately beauty placed herself between the two liveried lacqueys,
as Zenobia in the middle of her guards.

"Marguerite!"--the pretty little Française tripped up to her--"wipe this
blood from my face."

Beautiful, insulted creature! I thought that I looked upon some wounded
Boadicea, with her daughters extracting the arrow from her cheek.

"And now, kind Charlotte, fetch my cloak; and follow me to Prospect
House, with what I may require for the night. Till the general's return,
I stay not here one minute."

Then, without a syllable, or a look of leave-taking, the wise and noble
girl--doubtless unconsciously remembering her early Hindoo braveries,
the lines of matchlock men, the bowing slaves, the processions, and her
jewelled state of old--marched away in magnificent beauty, accompanied
in silence by the whole astonished household.

Mrs. Tracy and her son were left alone: the silly, silly mother thought
him "hardly used." Julian, whose natural effrontery had entirely
deserted him, looked like what he was--a guilty coward: and the mother,
who had pampered up her "fine high-spirited son" to his full-grown
criminality by a foolish education, really--when she had time to think
of any thing but him--was excessively frightened. The general would be
back to-morrow, and then--and then!--she dreaded to picture that
explosion of his wrath.