ked, gravely.

"I have seen some trifling service against the Florida savages, sir."

"As officer, of course."

"As officer of our rangers, General."

"You were never wounded?"

"No, sir; ... not severely."

"Oh!... not severely."

"No, sir."

"There are some gentlemen of my acquaintance," said Schuyler, turning to
Sir Lupus, "who might take a lesson in modesty from Mr. Ormond."

"Yes," broke out Sir Lupus--"that pompous ass, Gates."

"General Gates is a loyal soldier," said Schuyler, gravely.

"Who the devil cares?" fumed Sir Lupus. "I call a spade a spade! And I
say he is at the head of that infamous cabal which seeks to disgrace
you. Don't tell me, sir! I'm an older man than you, sir! I've a right to
say it, and I do. Gates is an envious ass, and unfit to hold
your stirrup!"

"This is a painful matter," said Schuyler, in a low voice. "Indiscreet
friendship may make it worse. I regard General Gates as a patriot and a
brother soldier.... Pray let us choose a gayer topic ... friends."

His manner was so noble, his courtesy so charming, that there was no
sting in his snub to Sir Lupus. Even I had heard of the amazing
jealousies and intrigues which had made Schuyler's life
miserable--charges of incompetency, of indifference, of corruption--nay,
some wretched creatures who sought to push Gates into Schuyler's command
even hinted at cowardice and treason. And none could doubt that Gates
knew it and encouraged it, for he had publicly spoken of Schuyler in
slighting and contemptuous terms.

Yet the gentleman whose honor had been the target for these slanderers
never uttered one word against his traducers: and, when a friend asked
him whether he was too proud to defend himself, replied, serenely, "Not
too proud, but too sensible to spread discord in my country's army."

"Lady Schuyler desires to know you," said the General, "for I see her
fan-signal, which I always obey." And he laid his arm on mine as a
father might, and led me across the room to where Dorothy stood with
Lady Schuyler on her right, surrounded by a bevy of bright-eyed girls
and gay young officers.

Dorothy presented me in a quiet voice, and I bowed very low to Lady
Schuyler, who made me an old-time reverence, gave me her fingers to
kiss, and spoke most kindly to me, inquiring about my journey, and how I
liked this Northern climate.

Then Dorothy made me known to those near her, to the pretty Carmichael
twins, whose black eyes brimmed pure