Jenny Aiken's feeble attempts at consolation were worse
than futile, and she was sent off abruptly to her room for
misconstruing the cause of her mistress' grief. Lady Mabel found
little relief in remembering her father's injunction, to play her part
well, and not fail of success. She was hardly soothed even by the
resolution she took to rate that father soundly for the gross
impropriety he had permitted, induced--nay, almost commanded--her to
perpetrate.
CHAPTER XIX.
_Don Pedro_.--By this light he changes more and more. I think he
be angry, indeed.
_Claudio_.--If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
_Benedict_.--Shall I speak a word in your ear?
_Claudio_.--God bless me from a challenge.
Much ado about Nothing.
Sir Rowland Hill, with a stout division, had been posted during the
winter at Coria, facing Marshal Soult in the valley of the
Tagus--holding him to bail not to disturb the peace and quiet of the
British army cantoned along the frontier. The Marshal had now
swallowed or pocketed all that he could find in the rich, but hapless
vale of Plasencia, and of late had been casting hungry glances on the
country south of the river.
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