CHAPTER XII.
GENERAL ROCHAMBEAU TELLS A STORY; AND THE TING-TANG RINGS FOR THE LAST TIME More than a year had passed when, one February morning, as he left the breakfast table, Endymion handed Dorothea a slip of paper.
"Do you think we can entertain at dinner next Wednesday?
If you can manage it, I wish these invitations written out and despatched before noon." "Next Wednesday ?" Dorothea's eyebrows went up.

Invitations to dine at Bayfield had always, as we know, been issued just three weeks ahead.
"If it will not inconvenience you," he answered; and his manner added, as plainly as words, "I beg that you will not press for my reasons." He was booted already for his ride into Axcester.
Dorothea ran her eye down the list: The Vicomte de Tocqueville, General Rochambeau.

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