_A Turning of the Tables_
It was nearly dark when the boat touched the opposite shore, and the
company disembarked. They proceeded on their way unmolested, and at
last a friendly beam ahead showed them that they were nearing the
Silverthorns' house. Kate's voice trembled with eagerness as she cried,
"I can see into the room, and there is Sue. Dear Sue! I wonder if she
suspects."
"Not a bit of it," replied her father. "We don't give information of
our secret expeditions. She will be as surprised as you were."
As the little procession came around the corner of the house, Sue came
to the door and peered out. "Is that you, father?" she asked. "Down,
Cæsar! you needn't bark so furiously; it's all right."
"It's myself, daughter, sure enough," her father told her. "We've
brought you visitors. Sue; extra company for supper."
Then Kate darted forward and threw herself in her sister's arms. "Sue,
dear old Sue, we're all here!"
"What!" Sue could hardly believe her ears. "Kate and Jack and Royal,
and actually Marianne! What does it all mean?"
"It means," said her father, laughing, "that we've turned the tables
and taken them all prisoners. First, they were the Reyburns' prisoners,
and now they are the Silverthorns'. Come in, boys. Take this young lady
upstairs, Sue; she's our prisoner, too."
"I never heard of such a thing!" Sue exclaimed. "You don't really mean
it, father. Tell me the truth. I want to hear all about it."
"Want to hear all about it, hey? I shouldn't wonder if there were not
a little curiosity in other quarters. It's a surprise all around.
We went over the river, a party of us, to see if we could get some
provender, supplies being rather short on this side, and as we were
reconnoitring about there, what did we see but a party of horsemen--and
horsewomen--approaching. We didn't know there were any women in the
party and were a bit scared, for we thought we might be going to have
a skirmish; but as they came nearer, what was our surprise to see it
was our own young folks. All of a sudden it popped into my head that it
would be a good joke to capture them and carry them back home again, so
I spoke to the others and they fell into my plan,--thought it would be
a good joke; and we hid ourselves in the bushes till they came along,
and then we grabbed them. You never saw a more startled set in your
life. I thought it was high time we had our boy and girl home again;
and then it didn't seem more than right that we should entertain those
who had been entertaining them, and so we brought along Miss Marianne
and her company. There you have the whole story."
"That's the way of it, was it?" said Jack. "And it was a surprise to
you as well as to us. I am afraid, though, that Mr. and Mrs. Reyburn
will think we are rather impolite to take such unceremonious leave of
them after all their kindness to us."
"You can write them as polite a note as you choose, and I reckon we'll
find a way to get it through the lines; you see we have an officer of
the king right at hand,--your grandfather, the major, there."
"Is grandfather a major?" exclaimed Kate. "We will have to walk a chalk
line now."
"Major Silverthorn he is, so we can dispose of our prisoners at once.
Shall we draw and quarter them, major, or put them in a dungeon?" he
asked, looking at Marianne with a quizzical smile as he spoke.
"Jack and Royal can return to their regiment when the call comes for
action," said Major Silverthorn. "The young lady is our guest," he
bowed to Marianne, "and this young gentleman--well, we'll see about him
to-morrow."
"I'm on parole, sir," said Jack.
"But, bless me! you didn't try to get away; we fetched you," said his
father.
"I'll not go back on my word, whether it was by my own act or not that
I got away," Jack assured him.
His grandfather nodded approval. "That's an honorable spirit, my boy. I
like to hear you speak so. I think we may release Mr. Lyle on parole.
Consider these your quarters, Mr. Lyle. You will not go beyond the
limits of our place here, you understand, but you might have worse
quarters."
Worse quarters, indeed, thought Fred, as he looked around on the big
comfortable room, plain in its appointments, yet boasting more than
one handsome piece of furniture, brought from their old home by the
Silverthorns when they fled from the States. Fred was perfectly ready
to give his parole, and all but Marianne seemed quite satisfied with
the state of affairs.
"I have not a stitch of clothing except what I have on," Marianne
complained.
"You can go to grandmother's and get something there," Royal told her.
"This is something like a joke, for no one is hurt, and we are simply
returning a visit. I think even father could see the humor in this."
The reminder that she would be able to see her grandmother appeased
Marianne somewhat and she showed a more contented face.
The half-dozen men who had accompanied the Silverthorns upon their
expedition had tramped away as soon as the captured party was safe
indoors. "Now, Miss Marianne," said Mr. Silverthorn, "it's only fair
that you should pay us as long a visit as Kate paid you. You needn't
be afraid that our friends that have just gone out are going to stand
guard over you. They have gone for good, and you are as free as air. It
was all a joke about your being a prisoner. Kate tells me that you were
all very good to her and Jack, and we have no scores to settle, except
that you carried Jack off and gave him a bad ankle."
"We didn't know it was Jack. I did so want to get my father home again,
and it seemed the only way," she said wistfully.
Mr. Silverthorn noticed her embarrassment. "Well, well, we won't go
into whys and wherefores now. You girls can have a good time, and the
boys can help you."
"I'll take you over to your grandmother's the first thing to-morrow
morning," said Jack.
"Royal can take me," she returned ungraciously.
Kate gave a little shiver. There was not unalloyed bliss in getting
home again. She had forgotten that Royal now would find no obstacle to
his daily visits to his grandmother's.
But here Royal spoke up. "We'll all go. Wouldn't you like the ride,
Miss Kate?"
"Yes," she returned, brightening. If Royal were willing that she should
be present at this first meeting, it could not be so important an
occasion to him as one might suppose.
The new condition of affairs did not appear very distasteful to any
concerned. The sisters were rejoiced to be together again; Royal did
not seem to be distressed at being an inmate of his friend's home; Jack
was pleased for more reasons than one, and his father beamed genially
upon them all. Even Major Silverthorn unbent somewhat, and it was quite
a jolly company that sat around the supper table; and when the next
day Mr. Silverthorn brought word that they had obtained an indorsement
of their disposal of Fred Lyle's case, it did not seem that Mr. Lyle
was very much perturbed by the news that he would be compelled to stay
where he was. Indeed, the whole thing seemed more like a frolic than
anything else, and so the Silverthorns treated it, making many sly
allusions to the manner in which they had been compelled to act in
order to get their friends to visit them.
The girls enjoyed the situation, as what girls would not. They
chattered and laughed and had their confidences in the same fashion
as has existed and will exist as long as there are girls.
The surprise they gave Madame Desvouges was such as might be expected.
Marianne and Kate, each with her attendant cavalier, rode up the
morning after the capture, startling Victorine from her corner and the
grandmother from her buttery. "Mon Dieu de la France! What is that,
Victorine?" called the old lady. "Some foraging party, I think. At this
rate we shall soon have nothing left. Where is Victor?" But Victor had
already seen the riders come up and was hurrying toward them. He had
caught sight of a little figure that gladdened his heart, and he could
not hasten fast enough.
[Illustration: "_Each with her attendant cavalier, rode up the morning
after the capture._"]
"That is no foraging party," declared Victorine. "Those are women's
voices. A visit from some of the neighbors, no doubt." And then the
door was flung open, and in ran Marianne crying: "Where is everybody?
Grand'mère! Victorine!"
"Nomme de Dieu!" cried Madame Desvouges. "It is my granddaughter. What
surprise is this?"
Marianne jumped up and down, hugged her grandmother, flew to Victorine,
then back to her grandmother. "Are you not amazed?" she asked. "We did
not know we were coming; we thought ourselves prisoners. It is all very
droll, as you will think when you hear the story. Let me present my
friends. Mr. Jack Silverthorn you have met, I think, and his sister is
here, too. So is Royal." Kate was standing back a little, looking with
all her eyes at the fair face of Victorine.
"And where is Royal?" asked the old lady. "Does he not intend to
embrace his grandmother?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss the young man on
each cheek, and then turned to Victorine. "Where are you, my daughter?
Come and see this naughty boy." Kate gave a little gasp as Royal bent
to kiss Victorine's proffered cheek. He passed his hand over her
beautiful hair. "You are as like an angel as ever, Victorine," he said
in a low voice. And into the lovely eyes came a look of tender joy.
"And you, Royal, are as like to a big naughty boy as ever."
"No angel about me," he laughed. "No, I am very human." They spoke
in French, which Kate only half understood, but she needed no
interpretation of Victorine's happy smile.
"And Victor! Mercy, Victor," cried Marianne, as the young man entered,
"you look scared to death! Am I, then, so frightful?" She ran to him
and then danced away again, making shocking faces at him, and laughing
and shaking her head as he attempted to come near her. "You are not
allowed to kiss the prisoners without permission from the authorities,"
she cried.
Victor turned to Royal. "What does she mean?"
"Come, come, Marianne," said her brother, "keep still and let us tell
them the story. You fly about like a feu follet. Sit down and let us
tell them the tale."
"And I will be the story-teller," Marianne announced. "No, no, I shall
let no one else tell it. I mean that grandmamma shall hear it from me,
for I know just what she will like best to know." And she proceeded
with her recital, interrupted by many exclamations, accompanied by
lifting of hands and shruggings of shoulders. "And so," concluded
Marianne, "we are all here, and how long we stay depends upon how soon
we can get away."
"A wise speech, surely," laughed grand'mère. "But must you be always
at the house of your captors? Is not your proper place with your
grandmother?"
Marianne stole a mischievous glance at Kate, and said solemnly, "But
you see, grand'mère, you let one prisoner get away."
"Mon Dieu!" cried Madame. "I let him get away! It was your own wicked
contriving, ungrateful one. Was it not well enough as it was, with the
entire family safe under my roof?"
"Yes, it was as it should be for all of us but my father, and he did
not know what might be his lot. He did not know what a terrible fate
might be his, for you know all these wicked Britishers treat their
prisoners with great disrespect and rudeness, even if they are not
absolutely cruel."
"I protest," cried Jack, growing very red. But Kate laughed, and said:
"You see, Madame, we have a very difficult prisoner to deal with, and
we should not allow her out of our sight, otherwise she should be
handed over to her relatives. We promise you, however, that when she
gets to be more than we can manage, that we shall send her to you; and
in any case, she shall see you often."
"And you will come to see me," said Marianne, nodding to Victorine,
"you and Victor."
"Yes, please come," Kate urged earnestly. She went up to Victorine and
held out her two hands. "I want you to come and see us. We have not
been very long in the neighborhood, and we know few of the people."
Victorine looked at her wistfully. This bright sunny girl, the very
embodiment of health and strength and fine proportion, did she really
want her friendship? "Please say you will come," Kate begged, with her
own sweet smile. "Your brother will bring you, I am sure."
"I do not often leave maman," Victorine pleaded as an excuse.
"She will come, too. Oh, yes, she will. We will make an occasion. We
will have a birthday party, and I know you will not refuse to come."
She begged so earnestly that Madame herself, when asked, gave a promise
that satisfied Kate, and they all trooped out, leaving the little
grandmother well pleased.
But that night, long after all others were asleep, Kate lay broad
awake, her thoughts intent upon the pathetic, beautiful face of
Victorine La Rue, and she whispered: "Never, never! I will never stand
between them. It would be a wickedness for which I could never forgive
myself. We must find a way to make her happy; hers is the first claim.
Royal must not stay here." And in her little room under the sloping
roof, Victorine was on her knees, murmuring broken prayers, the tears
streaming from her eyes. "Make me patient, dear Lord. Not my happiness,
but his. Mother Mary, pity me, help me!"
The next day Kate linked her arm in Jack's, and drew him down the
path which led from the house. "I want to talk to you, Jack," she
said. "I want you to help me to get Royal away. He ought to go to his
grandmother's, where he is needed."
"Why--why," Jack stammered. Then he was silent for a space. "I see,
Kate," he said, after a while. "I think I understand. Do you think it
is really as you were told?"
"It ought to be so."
"The girl has a lovely face, but I don't think Royal cares in that way."
"She does, and that is enough. Oh, Jack, I have strength and youth and
everything. She is one of God's unfortunates, and shall it be my place
to snatch this happiness from her, when she has been brought up to
think it will be hers?"
"Kate, you are a good girl."
"No, no. You don't know anything about it. I could never be happy if I
did one small thing to add to her burden. If--if after I have done all
I can, and then it does not turn out as it should, Jack,--don't you see
that I shall then have nothing to reproach myself for?"
"I see; and for my part, I'll do my best to help you, Kate. It is
rather a delicate situation, but I think we can let Royal understand
that it is from no lack of hospitality on our part."
"Then you will undertake it."
"Yes--Kate."
"Yes."
"Marianne--do you think she likes her cousin? And I say, I've had hard
thoughts, but I'd be ashamed to do less than you. I--perhaps I ought
not to stand in the way."
"But that is different," Kate interrupted eagerly. "He is on equal
ground with you. One is as strong and well as the other. If anything,"
she laughed, "he has the advantage in looks. There's no need for your
Quixoticism there, Jack. Besides--" she hesitated, "you have no reason
to think yourself favored, or that you could stand in any one's way."
"That's so," returned Jack, so dejectedly that Kate hastened to say:
"But that is no reason why you should not be some day. I am sure
Marianne does not care for her cousin or any one else in a romantic
way."
"You think not?" doubtfully.
"No, I don't. I have been watching her. I think she has a genuine
affection for Victor La Rue, but it is not like being in love."
"I never thought of him. By George! I have no doubt but that is what
her grandmother would like. He's a good fellow, but since I had my
ideas set upon the other fellow, I can't quite accept a possible
rivalry with the other one."
"Oh, I am not sure at all that she likes him best; but at all events,
you have no reason to think that Marianne would ever listen to you."
"No," said Jack, disconsolately. "I suppose it is folly to hug such a
delusion, when she would never listen to any one who was not on the
American side."
"Then I don't see that you need worry yourself to make any sacrifices
in another man's behalf. Let Fate decide. With me it is different.
Come, we will go back to the house. I'll trust you to help me out, and
I'll do the same for you, if occasion requires." With which compact,
the conversation ended.