“Darthea,” he repeated. “She looks the name. Sad if she had been called
Deborah, or some of your infernally idiotic Scripture names.”
He was duly presented, and, I must say, made the most of his chances for
two days, so that the elder dames were amused at Darthea’s conquest, my
cousin having so far shown no marked preference for any one except the
elder Miss Franks, who was rich and charming enough to have many men at
her feet, despite her Hebrew blood.
In truth he had been hit hard that fatal August afternoon, and he proved
a bold and constant wooer. With me it was a more tardy influence which
the fair Darthea as surely exerted. I was troubled and disturbed at the
constancy of my growing and ardent affection. At first I scarce knew
why, but by and by I knew too well; and the more hopeless became the
business, the more resolute did I grow; this is my way and nature.
During the remaining weeks of summer I saw much of Miss Peniston, and
almost imperceptibly was made at last to feel, for the first time in my
life, the mysterious influence of woman. Now and then we rode with my
aunt, or went to see the troops reviewed. I thought she liked me, but it
soon became only too clear that at this game, where hearts were trumps,
I was no match for my dark, handsome cousin, in his brilliant uniform.