f joy or sorrow, she would always be to a certain extent a
child. And well for her that it was so; do we not all know a few rare
natures whose fascination dwells in this very quality?

The years had gone swiftly for Betty. Shortly after her parting with
Yorke an opportunity had occurred for her return to Litchfield, and
although Clarissa lamented her departure Betty was eager to fly home.
Gulian had done his best to smooth over his ill-judged and ill-tempered
effort to arrange her matrimonial affairs, and one of Betty's minor
annoyances was her sister's evident disappointment at Yorke's rejection.
Only once had she forgotten herself and flashed out upon Clarissa,
peremptorily forbidding further discussion, and Clarissa had been
positively aghast at the impetuous little creature who confronted her
with flashing eyes and quivering lips, and had speedily warned Gulian
never to broach the subject to Betty again. Peter was Betty's closest
friend in those stormy days. The urchin had a shrewd perception of how
matters stood, and many a time had Betty hugged him for very gratitude
when he made a diversion and carried her off to some boyish haunt in the
city or to the Collect, thereby giving her opportunity to regain the
self-control and spirit necessary to appear as usual. For Betty was
formed of gallant stuff. No matter if her heart ached to bursting for
sight of Geoffrey, if her ears longed, oh, so madly, for the sound of
his voice; she could suffer, aye, deeply and long, but she could also be
brave and hide even the appearance of a wound. That Gulian, and even
Clarissa, considered her a heartless coquette troubled her not at all,
and so Betty danced and laughed on to the end of her sojourn in New
York.

It had always been a source of thankfulness to her that she had been
able to go home before Geoffrey's return from the expedition to South
Carolina, for she sometimes doubted her own ability to withstand his
personal appeal if again exerted. That he had returned and then, shortly
after, gone upon another detail, she had heard incidentally from Oliver
during one of her brother's flying visits to Litchfield on his way to
New London with dispatches. Oliver had been greatly touched by Yorke's
conduct in the matter of his escape, but if he suspected that Betty's
lovely face had anything to do with the British officer's kindly
blindness, he was too clever to hint as much, for which forbearance
Betty thanked him in the depths of he