Lord Ormont and his Aminta | Page 4

hellish
expression.
Browny was then clearly seen all round, instead of only front-face, as
on the Sunday in the park, when fellows could not spy backward after
passing. The pleasure they had in seeing her all round involved no fresh
stores of observation, for none could tell how she tied her back-hair,
which was the question put to them by a cynic of a boy, said to be
queasy with excess of sisters. They could tell that she was tall for a girl,
or tallish--not a maypole. She drank a cup of tea, and ate a slice of
bread-and-butter; no cake.

She appeared undisturbed when Matey, wearing his holiday white
ducks, and all aglow, entered the booth. She was not expected to faint,
only she stood for the foreign Aminta more than for their familiar
Browny in his presence. Not a sign of the look which had fired the
school did she throw at him. Change the colour and you might compare
her to a lobster fixed on end, with a chin and no eyes. Matey talked to
Miss Vincent up to the instant of his running to bat. She would have
liked to guess how he knew she had a brother on the medical staff of
one of the regiments in India: she asked him twice, and his cheeks were
redder than cricket in the sun. He said he read all the reports from India,
and asked her whether she did not admire Lord Ormont, our general of
cavalry, whose charge at the head of fifteen hundred horse in the last
great battle shattered the enemy's right wing, and gave us the
victory--rolled him up and stretched him out like a carpet for dusting.
Miss Vincent exclaimed that it was really strange, now, he should
speak of Lord Ormont, for she had been speaking of him herself in
morning to one of her young ladies, whose mind was bent on his heroic
deeds. Matey turned his face to the group of young ladies, quite pleased
that one of them loved his hero; and he met a smile here and there--not
from Miss Aminta Farrell. She was a complete disappointment to the
boys that day. "Aminta" was mouthed at any allusions to her.
So, she not being a match for Matey, they let her drop. The flush that
had swept across the school withered to a dry recollection, except when
on one of their Sunday afternoons she fanned the desert. Lord Ormont
became the subject of inquiry and conversation; and for his own
sake--not altogether to gratify Matey. The Saturday autumn evening's
walk home, after the race out to tea at a distant village, too late in the
year for cricket, too early for regular football, suited Matey, going at
long strides, for the story of his hero's adventures; and it was nicer than
talk about girls, and puzzling. Here lay a clear field; for he had the right
to speak of a cavalry officer: his father died of wounds in the service,
and Matey naturally intended to join the Dragoons; if he could get
enough money to pay for mess, he said, laughing. Lord Ormont was his
pattern of a warrior. We had in him a lord who cast off luxury to live
like a Spartan when under arms, with a passion to serve his country and
sustain the glory of our military annals. He revived respect for the

noble class in the hearts of Englishmen. He was as good an authority on
horseflesh as any Englishman alive; the best for the management of
cavalry: there never was a better cavalry leader. The boys had come to
know that Browny admired Lord Ormont, so they saw a double reason
why Matey should; and walking home at his grand swing in the
October dusk, their school hero drew their national hero closer to them.
Every fellow present was dead against the usher, Mr. Shalders, when he
took advantage of a pause to strike in with his "Murat!"
He harped on Murat whenever he had a chance. Now he did it for the
purpose of casting eclipse upon Major-General Lord Ormont, the son
and grandson of English earls; for he was an earl by his title, and Murat
was the son of an innkeeper. Shalders had to admit that Murat might
have served in the stables when a boy. Honour to Murat, of course, for
climbing the peaks! Shalders, too, might interest him in military affairs
and Murat; he did no harm, and could be amusing. It rather added to his
amount of dignity. It was rather absurd, at the same time, for an English
usher to be spouting and glowing about a French general, who had been
a stable-boy and became a king, with his Murat this, Murat that, and
hurrah Murat