Yet, of Lana Helmer never a suspicious word had been breathed that ever I had heard—­ for it seemed she could dare where others dared not; say and do and be what another woman might not, as though her wit and beauty licensed what had utterly damned another.  Nor did her devotion and close companionship with Clarissa ever seem to raise a question as to her own personal behaviour.  And well I remember a gay company being at cards and wine one day in the summer house on the river hew she answered a disrespect of Sir John with a contemptuous rebuke which sent the muddy blood into his face and left him ashamed—­ the only time I ever saw him so.

Ensign Chambers came a-mincing up, was presented to the ladies, languidly made preparations for taking Mrs. Lansing by storm; and the first deadly grace he pictured for her was his macaroni manner of taking snuff—­ with which fascinating ceremony he had turned many a silly head in New York ere we marched out and the British marched in.

I talked for a while with Mrs. Bleecker of this and that, striving the while to catch Lana Helmer’s eye.  For not only did her coquetry with Boyd make me uneasy, knowing them both as I did, but on my own account I desired to speak to her in private when opportunity afforded.  Alone and singly either of these people stood in no danger from the outer world.  Pitted against each other, what their recklessness might lead to I did not know.  For since Boyd’s attempted gallantries toward Lois—­ he believing her to be as youthful and depraved as seemed the case—­ a deep and growing distrust for this man which I had never before felt had steadily invaded my friendship for him.  Also, he had already an affair with a handsome wench at the Middle Fort, one Dolly Glenn, and the poor young thing was plainly mad about him.

I heard Mrs. Lansing propose a stroll to the river before dinner, on the chance of meeting her husband’s regiment returning, which suggestion seemed to suit all; and in the confusion of chatter and laughter and the tying of a sun-mask by Mrs. Bleecker, aided by Boyd and by the exquisite courtier, I cleverly contrived to supplant Boyd with Lana Helmer, and not only stuck to her side, but managed to secure the rear of the strolling column.

All this manoeuvre did not escape her, and as we fell a few paces behind, she looked up at me with a most deadly challenge in her violet eyes.

“Now,” she said, “that you have driven off your rival, I am resigned to be courted....  Heaven knows you wasted opportunities enough at Guy Park.”

I laughed.

“How strange it is, Lana,” I said, “to be here with you; I in rifle dress and thrums, hatchet, and knife at my Mohawk girdle; you in chip hat and ribbons and dainty gown, lifting your French petticoat over the muddy ruts cut on the King’s Highway by rebel artillery!”

“Who would have dreamed it three years ago?” she said, her face now sober enough.