Colonel Wellmere was among those who delighted most in
expending his wit on the unfortunate Americans; and, in time, Frances
began to listen to his eloquence with great suspicion, and sometimes
with resentment.
It was on a hot, sultry day that the three were in the parlor of Mr.
Wharton's house, the colonel and Sarah seated on a sofa, engaged in a
combat of the eyes, aided by the usual flow of small talk, and Frances
was occupied at her tambouring frame in an opposite corner of the room,
when the gentleman suddenly exclaimed,--
"How gay the arrival of the army under General Burgoyne will make the
city, Miss Wharton!"
"Oh! how pleasant it must be," said the thoughtless Sarah, in reply; "I
am told there are many charming women with that army; as you say, it
will make us all life and gayety."
Frances shook back the abundance of her golden hair, and raised her
eyes, dancing with the ardor of national feeling; then laughing, with a
concealed humor, she asked,--
"Is it so certain that General Burgoyne will be permitted to reach the
city?"
"Permitted!" echoed the colonel. "Who is there to prevent it, my pretty
Miss Fanny?"
Frances was precisely at that age when young people are most jealous of
their station in society; neither quite a woman, nor yet a child.
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