But she had been experienced also in the amorous symptoms of
convalescent soldiers and she repressed his ardor skilfully. She
put an ice-cap on his heart and head.
As soon as he was up and about again he met Kedzie. It seemed to
be her business to take away from Charity Coe all of Charity's
conquests, and the young Marquess found her hospitable to his
hunger for friendship.
Before the first day's acquaintance was over Kedzie was as fascinated
by his chatter as Desdemona was by Othello's anecdotes.
One night Kedzie dreamed that she was a Marquessess or whatever
the wife of a Marquess would be styled.
Kedzie was herself again. Kedzie was dreaming again. She had an
ambition for something higher than her station. She made haste to
encourage the infatuated Marquess. Counting upon winning him somehow
as her husband, she gave him encouragement beyond any she had given
her other swains.
But Strathdene had no intention of marrying her or any other woman.
His heart was in the highlands, the cloudlands; his heart was not
there.
A purer patriot or a warrior more free of any taint of caution than
Strathdene could not be imagined, but otherwise he was as arrant
a scamp as ever. While he waited for strength to "carry on" in the
brave, new, English sense, it amused him to "carry on" in the
mischievous old American sense.
Kedzie was determined that he should live long enough for her to
free herself from Jim and make the marquisate hers.
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