"You have indeed done well, Monsieur Kennedy," the baron said,
when Desmond finished his story.
"Now, let us see to my daughter. Her maid is attending on her. She
fainted when the fight began. She is not of a fainting sort, but
the trials of the last few weeks, and her belief that de la Vallee
was killed, have very much upset her."
"No wonder," Desmond said. "It must have been terrible, indeed, to
lose her lover, and to know that she was again in the power of
that villain.
"And you, Baron; how did you escape the fate that befell the rest
of your convoy?"
"We had ridden close up to the tree, when suddenly there was a
discharge of firearms. The two men with me fell at once. I was
unhurt, but as I turned my horse he fell dead, three bullets
having pierced his chest. Before I could recover my feet, the
rascals were upon me. They evidently intended to take me alive,
for they were provided with ropes, and, binding my arms, hurried
me back to the carriage.
"By the time we got there, all was over. My faithful Eustace and
the coachman lay dead by the side of the carriage. They had fought
stoutly, for three of the brigands lay beside them. Six others
were scattered near, and the brigands were gathered round a fallen
man, who I guessed was their leader.
"I found Anne in a state of the wildest grief. She told me that
she had seen Philip shot by the vicomte, just as he was attacking
him, and that you in turn had cut down the villain.
"For half an hour, nothing was done, and then one, who was
evidently in authority over the others, left the troop and came up
to the carriage.
"'Monsieur le Baron,' he said, 'the orders of my chief are that
you are to be placed in the carriage, with your daughter and her
maid. If you will give your word of honour that you will not
attempt to escape, or to give the alarm as you go along, or to
address a word to anyone whom we may encounter, your arms will be
freed, and you will be treated with all respect. If, on the
contrary, you decline to give this promise, my instructions are
that your feet as well as your hands are to be tied, and that you
are to be gagged and placed in the bottom of the carriage. You are
also to answer for your daughter and her maid; that they, too,
neither by word nor gesture, shall attempt to attract the
attention of anyone in the villages that we may pass through."
"It was a hard condition, but I had no choice. The idea that I
should suffer the indignity of being bound and gagged, like a
common malefactor, made my blood boil. I should, in that case, no
more be able to give the alarm than if I had been free; therefore
I gave the promise, for at least it would be a comfort, to Anne,
that I should be with her and able to talk to her.
"We stopped two nights on the road, being lodged at solitary
houses on the way. A guard was placed at my chamber door, and
another at my window, and even had I not given my word I could not
have escaped.
"And now, Monsieur Kennedy, what do you propose?"
"I think, sir, that it would be best that you should start at
once, in the carriage, for Pointdexter. Monsieur Philip's
intendant and his men will ride as your escort, but I do not think
that there is the slightest probability of your being interfered
with; for now that the vicomte is dead, these men--who were not, I
think, his retainers, but a band of robbers whom he had hired for
the occasion--will have no further motive for attacking you.
"I myself shall return to Aubusson, send back the horse on which I
rode there, hire another, and make straight for Moulins, where I
still hope that I may find Monsieur de la Vallee alive.
"Did you see the vicomte, after you were attacked?"
"No. I heard one of the men tell the fellows who were guarding us
that your stroke had cut off one of his ears, and laid his cheek
bare from the eye to the chin. I fancy that he was too badly hurt
to come to us, but in any case he would not have cared to show
himself, in so terrible a plight."
"We must admit that, with all his faults, he was brave," Desmond
said; "for, in spite of his pain and weakness, and of the fact
that his head was enveloped in bandages, he sprang from his
litter, leapt into one of the saddles we had emptied, and, single
handed, made for me, until my man cut his career short with a
bullet.
"As you go through Croc, it might be well that you should send one
of the villagers off to his castle, to tell them that their master
is lying dead here, when doubtless they will send out a party to
fetch in his body."
By this time, Mademoiselle de Pointdexter had recovered from her
faint. She held out her hand to Desmond, as he stood bareheaded
beside the door.
"You have rescued me again, Monsieur Kennedy," she said; "for,
though life seems worthless to me now, you have saved me from far
worse than death. That you have so saved me, for my father's sake
as well as my own, I thank you with all my heart."
"I would have you still hope, mademoiselle. We know that Monsieur
de la Vallee fell, but many men fall from their horses when
wounded, even when the wound is not vital. I am riding at once to
Moulins, and trust to find him still alive. Therefore, I pray you
do not give up all hope."
"I dare not let myself hope," she said. "It would be but to suffer
another blow. Still, I feel that I have so much to be thankful for
that, grievous as my sorrow is, I shall try to bear it, with the
help of the Holy Virgin."
The party now separated. The baron mounted one of the horses left
behind by the brigands, and with the men from la Vallee started
for Pointdexter; while Desmond, with Mike Callaghan, rode back to
Aubusson.
There they slept for a few hours, and then obtained fresh horses
and started for Moulins, where they arrived late in the evening.
They alighted at the Soleil, where Desmond had ordered the two
men, who had gone on from Roanne, to bring the body of Monsieur de
la Vallee.
"The gentleman is not here, sir," the landlord said, as he came to
the door. "He was brought into the town by the men sent out by the
mayor. As, by his dress, he was evidently a gentleman of quality,
they took him straight to the Couronne."
"Was he alive?"
"Yes, sir; but, as I hear, the surgeons are unable to decide yet
whether he will live. The men you sent here arrived the day after
he was brought in. They told me that you would return, and put
their horses here, but they are now in attendance on the wounded
gentleman, who, it seems, is their lord."
"Thank God, he is alive!" Desmond exclaimed. "I have news for him
that will do more than the surgeons can to restore him to
himself."
Leaving Mike to see the horses stabled, he hurried away to the
other hotel. He sent up his name, and one of the surgeons came
down.
"Monsieur de la Vallee is very ill," he said, "although his wound
is not necessarily mortal. This morning we succeeded in extracting
the ball, but he is in a terribly weak state. He is unable to
speak above a whisper, and does not seem to care to make any
effort. It would appear that he even does not wish to live."
"I have news that will put fresh life into him."
"Then by all means go in and see him, sir. We have thought that he
is fast sinking; but if the news you bring can rouse him into
making an effort to live, he may yet recover. I will go in and
give him a strong restorative, and tell him that you are here."
In three or four minutes, he came to the door of the chamber, and
beckoned to Desmond to enter.
"The sound of your name has roused him from the lethargy, into
which he seemed sinking," he whispered. "When I told him that I
could not allow you to enter, until he had taken the draught that
I gave him, he swallowed it eagerly."
Desmond went up to the bedside, and took the hand which lay on the
coverlet. The pressure was slightly returned, and Philip's lips
moved, but he spoke so faintly that Desmond had to lean over him,
to hear the words.
"I am glad, indeed, that you are safe and sound. I have been
reproaching myself, bitterly, that I should have brought you into
this fatal business. As to the rest of it, I dare not even think
of it; but I shall die all the easier for knowing that you have
escaped."
"I escaped for a good purpose, Philip. I have good news for you.
Monsieur le Baron and mademoiselle are on their way to Pointdexter,
under the guard of your men."
"Is it possible, Desmond, or are you only saying it to rouse me?"
"Not at all, Philip. You do not suppose that, even for that
purpose, I would hold out false hopes to you; or tell an untruth
on a matter so vital to your happiness."
Philip's eyes closed, but his lips moved, and Desmond knew that he
was returning thanks to God for this unlooked-for news.
"How did it happen?" Philip said, after a silence of some minutes.
His voice was much stronger than before, and there was a faint
touch of colour in his cheeks. The surgeon nodded approvingly to
Desmond, and murmured, "I think that he will live."
"It is too long a story to tell you in full, now," Desmond said.
"Seeing that all was lost, that you were down, and that further
resistance was absolutely fruitless, Mike and I cut our way out;
the more easily since I had struck down their leader, de Tulle,
and most of his band had crowded round him. At Roanne I found your
men, who had just arrived there. It matters not now why they had
been detained. I got fresh horses for them and rode for Correze,
placed an ambush, and turned the tables upon them. Mike shot the
vicomte, and we easily defeated his followers, and rescued the
baron and his daughter. I sent them to Pointdexter under charge of
your intendant and followers, and rode hither, hoping against hope
that I might find you still alive. Your two men, who came on here,
could have told you that I had escaped."
"I did not allow them to speak to monsieur," the surgeon said, "or
even to see him. They are below, greatly grieved at being refused
entry; but I told them that any agitation might be fatal to their
master, and that they could do nothing for him if they came up;
for indeed, up to the time when we extracted the ball, he was
unconscious.
"And now, monsieur, I think that it were best you should retire. I
shall give Monsieur de la Vallee a soothing draught. A night's
rest will be of vital importance to him. And now that you have
relieved his mind of the load that has evidently weighed upon him,
I think there is little doubt that he will soon fall asleep."
"I will go and have supper," Desmond said, "for I have ridden
fifty miles since I last ate, and then it was but a piece of bread
with a draught of wine. After that I will, with your permission,
return here, and if you tell me that he sleeps, will take my place
by his bedside till morning."
"To that I have no objection," the surgeon said. "I and a
colleague have, one or other, been with him since he was brought
in; and I shall be glad of a rest, myself."
Desmond returned to the Soleil, where he had left Mike. The
latter, who had just finished his supper, was delighted to hear
that de la Vallee was likely to recover. After satisfying his own
hunger, Desmond returned to the Couronne. He went upstairs, and,
taking off his riding boots, stole to the door of his friend's
chamber. It stood a little ajar, and, pushing it open noiselessly,
he entered.
The surgeon, who was sitting at the bedside, rose at once.
"He is asleep already," he whispered, "and is breathing quietly. I
think it likely that he will not stir until tomorrow morning. I
shall be here at six. If he wakes, and there is any change, send
for me at once."
After he had left the room, Desmond took his place on the fauteuil
by the bedside. For a time, he thought over the singular chain of
adventures that he had gone through. Gradually, in spite of his
efforts, his eyelids drooped. De la Vallee had not moved, and,
being dead tired by the exertions of the past four days, he fell
into a deep sleep, from which he did not awake until daylight
streamed into the room.
Shocked at having thus given way, he looked anxiously at de la
Vallee, and was relieved to find that he was lying exactly in the
same position, and had evidently slept without once waking. Half
an hour later, Philip opened his eyes, looked wonderingly at him,
and then said:
"So, it was not all a good dream, Desmond! You are really here,
and your news is true?"
"Certainly, it is true, Philip. By this time Mademoiselle de
Pointdexter and her father are far on the way home. They were to
have travelled on to Argentan, and then through Aurillac, striking
the Lozere at Entraigues and proceeding along its banks to Mende,
and thence by a road over the hills to Villefort, where they would
be twenty miles from Pointdexter. The carriage was to be left
behind at their first halting place. Mademoiselle was then to
ride, and her maid to be carried behind one of your men, by which
means they would travel more than twice as fast as they would do,
if encumbered by the carriage. The baron said that he would spare
no pains to get home as quickly as possible, and would send a man
on, some hours ahead of him, to see that fresh horses were in
readiness for the whole party at each town they came to."
"Now tell me all about it, Desmond. I feel another man. Your good
news, and a long night's sleep, have done wonders for me. Now,
please tell me all about the affair."
Seeing that Philip was so much stronger that he could hear,
without being overexcited, the story of the rescue, Desmond
related all the details to him.
"You have indeed done wonders," Philip said. "You do not seem to
know what fatigue is. How strange that you, whose name I had never
heard until ten days back, should have rendered to Baron
Pointdexter and myself two such inestimable services.
"And so, after all your exertions and fatigue, you have been
keeping watch at my bedside all night?"
"I am ashamed to say that I have not been keeping watch, Philip,"
Desmond replied with a smile. "I had intended to, but you were
sleeping so quietly, and everything was so still, that I went off
and slept, as soundly as you have done, until within half an hour
of the time when you opened your eyes; but I am sure that I should
have awoke at once, had you moved."
"Then I am glad that I did not move, Desmond, for you must sorely
need a long sleep, after having passed three days and almost three
nights in the saddle."
The surgeons now arrived, and were delighted at the change that
had taken place in their patient.
"And when shall I be fit to travel, doctor?"
"Ah, well, we will talk of that in another fortnight's time. You
need absolute quiet, for were you to move, before your wound is
fairly healed, inflammation might set in, and that would throw you
back for a very long time. You have had a very narrow escape, and
you are fortunate, indeed, to have got off with only a trifling
detention."
"But I might be carried in a horse litter?"
"Certainly not, at present," the surgeon said decidedly.
"Possibly, in ten days, you might without danger be so carried,
providing they take you in short stages and with easy-paced
horses; but I should say that it would be still better, were you
to be carried on men's shoulders. There is never any difficulty in
hiring men, and you could get relays every eight or ten miles,
while it would be difficult to get horses accustomed to such
work."
"You don't think that I should be able to ride, doctor?"
"Certainly not in less than a month, probably not in six weeks."
"Then I must be carried," Philip said. "I should work myself into
the fever you talk of, if I were to be kept here.
"What are your plans, Desmond?"
"I have not thought of them, yet. At any rate, I shall stay with
you till you are well enough to start."
"I could not think of that, Desmond."
"You have no say in the matter, Philip. In the first place, you
will get on all the faster for my being with you. In the next
place, ten days of my leave are already expired, and were we to go
on straight to Pointdexter, I should only have a few days there
before starting back for Paris, and I must therefore postpone my
visit to some future time. I can stay here ten days, accompany you
some four days on your journey, and then turn back again."
"A nice way of spending a month's holiday!" Philip grumbled.
"It will be a holiday that I shall long look back to," Desmond
said quietly, "and with pleasure. I do not say that I should not
have enjoyed myself at the baron's chateau, for that I should have
done; but the adventures that I have gone through will remain in
my mind, all my life, as having gained the friendship of yourself,
the baron, and his daughter."
"Friendship seems to me too mild a word for it, Desmond. You have
earned a gratitude so deep that it will be a pain to us, if we
cannot show it in deeds."
"And now, Philip," Desmond said, changing the subject abruptly, "I
suppose that you will be, at once, sending off one of your men
with the news that you are in a fair way towards recovery.
Mademoiselle de Pointdexter is suffering at the thought that you
were probably killed. I did my best to give her hope, but without
much success. Your two retainers have been fretting greatly that
they were not allowed to see you, but I think that now they can be
brought up, and you can choose one of them to act as your
messenger. He will, of course, ride post, and can arrive at
Pointdexter very soon after the baron, if indeed he does not get
there first. If he starts at once, and changes horses at each
place, he may be there by tomorrow at noon, if not earlier; for it
is not more, I believe, than a hundred and twenty miles to
Pointdexter. If you will dictate a letter for him to take, I will
write it for you."
"It must be a short one," the surgeon said, "just a few words.
Monsieur de la Vallee has talked more than is good for him."
Half an hour later the messenger started, carrying a note with a
few words from Philip to Anne, and a longer letter from Desmond to
the baron. Four days later answers were received. The messenger
had arrived at Pointdexter two hours before the travellers reached
home, and Anne's joy at the news that, not only was Philip alive,
but might in a short time be with her, was deep indeed. The baron
wrote to Desmond, as well as to Philip, again expressing the deep
gratitude of himself and his daughter, greatly regretting that he
should not have the opportunity, at present, of thanking him
personally. With the letter the messenger brought a bag of money,
concerning which he wrote:
"You have, I know, dear Monsieur Kennedy, expended a considerable
sum of money in hiring relays of horses, for yourself and Monsieur
de la Vallee's men; and this, of course, is a debt you cannot
object to my repaying. Without knowing the exact sum, I have
roughly calculated the probable amount, and forward it to you by
the messenger who will bring you this letter."
Desmond had no hesitation in accepting the money. The baron had
evidently taken considerable pains to calculate the sums that he
must have laid out, in order not to hurt his feelings by sending a
larger sum than he had spent, for the amount contained in the bag
was but a few louis over his disbursements. He at once rode over
to Roanne and redeemed his ring, which had proved of more value to
him than he had ever anticipated.
At the end of the ten days, Philip was strong enough to walk
across the room, and the surgeon gave permission for him to start,
if, instead of being carried all the way, he would be taken to
Lyons, which was but twenty miles distant, and there take boat
down the Rhone to Viviers. Desmond went with him to Lyons, and saw
him comfortably bestowed on board a craft going down the river,
and there left him in charge of his own retainers. Then,
accompanied by Mike, whose wound was now well healed, he rode back
to Paris by comparatively easy stages, arriving there on the day
before his leave was up. He reported himself to the colonel.
"So you have not been to Pointdexter after all! I received a long
letter a week ago from the baron, sent by special messenger,
giving me a full account of your doings, which reads like a
chapter of romance. He mentioned that he had also written to the
king, denouncing the conduct of the Vicomte de Tulle; and stating
that, in the fight between his own rescuers and the vicomte's
band, the latter was killed, and doing full justice to the part
you played in the affair. I had a message from His Majesty
yesterday, ordering that you should, as soon as you returned, go
at once to Versailles, in order that he might question you further
on the affair.
"I have another piece of news for you. We have received orders to
march in three days' time, which is a fortunate circumstance for
you, for there can be no doubt that, however gallantly and well
you have behaved in this affair, and in whatever light His Majesty
may view it, you have incurred the enmity of de Tulle's family and
connections, and the air of Paris would not be healthy for you,
for a time. I need not say that I have read the baron's letter to
your comrades, and that they fully shared with me the admiration I
feel at your conduct."
"Had I better start at once for Versailles, sir?"
"I think so. The king is not pleased at being kept waiting. He is
sure to ask you when you arrived. You had better take one of my
horses. I will order it to be brought round, and shall be at your
quarters by the time you have put on your full uniform."
The king had just returned from hunting when Desmond arrived at
the palace, and gave his name to one of the ushers. Five minutes
later, he was conducted to the king's dressing room.
"This is a serious business, young sir, in which you have been
engaged," the king said shortly to Desmond, as he entered.
"I am aware of that, Sire, and yet I am well assured that every
officer in Your Majesty's service would have acted as I did, under
similar circumstances."
"The Baron de Pointdexter has written to us fully on the matter,"
the king said, "but we wish to hear the account from your own
lips. When did you return to Paris?"
"But two hours since, Sire."
"Then you have lost no time in presenting yourself here. Now, tell
us the whole matter, omitting no detail."
Desmond told the story fully. He was interrupted once by the king.
"How was it that Monsieur de la Vallee's people were at Roanne?"
Desmond then related the fears that he and Philip had entertained,
lest the vicomte should make another attempt to carry off
Mademoiselle Pointdexter, and how, without the baron's knowledge,
Philip had sent off a messenger to his intendant for a body of his
men to meet them on the way; how the messenger had been
intercepted and desperately wounded, and how, in consequence,
instead of their being met by the party at Nevers, or north of
that town, they had only reached Roanne after the attack had been
made on the travellers, near Moulins.
The king asked no more questions, until Desmond finished his
story.
"You did well, sir," he then said; "and the conduct of the Vicomte
de Tulle was outrageous, and we should have visited him with our
heaviest displeasure, had he not already received his deserts. It
is intolerable that a noble gentleman, with his daughter, cannot
travel along the highroads of our kingdom without being thus
assaulted. It was the more scandalous when the vicomte was
banished from our court for a similar attempt. The fact that he
had enjoyed our favour would in no degree have mitigated--indeed
it would have increased--our anger at his conduct, since it would
have seemed as if he had relied upon it for immunity for his
action. Surely, such a belief would have been an erroneous one.
The law must be observed, and the higher placed a man is, the more
is he bound to set an example of obedience to it.
"We thank you, sir, for having thwarted so daring and villainous a
scheme. We have not yet sent an answer to the Baron de Pointdexter,
because we wished your report of the matter before doing so. We
shall now cause him to be informed of our indignation at the plot
against his person and that of his daughter, and our satisfaction
that they have escaped from it.
"You have begun your career well, indeed, young sir. Your regiment
is about to start for the frontier. We shall direct your colonel
to report to us, from time to time, as to your conduct, and shall
see that your promotion is in accordance with your actions, and
shall request him to offer you any opportunity that may occur for
distinguishing yourself."
Desmond rode back to Paris well satisfied with the result of the
interview. He had not been slow in noticing that, although the
king's approval of his actions had been warmly expressed in words,
there was a certain coldness in the tone in which they were
spoken, which showed that, although the king's sense of justice
constrained him to praise, he was at heart sore at the death of
one who had been a favoured companion in his sports and
amusements.
On his return, he found his two friends waiting for him, at his
quarters. They gave him a hearty greeting.
"You are a perfect paladin, Kennedy," O'Neil said; "and, though we
are all proud of you, we cannot help feeling a little envious that
such adventures have all fallen to the lot of our junior ensign.
It is evident that, if you were not born with a silver spoon in
your mouth, fortune determined to make up in other ways, by giving
you such chances as do not fall to the lot of anyone else."
"Yes, I think I have every right to consider myself exceptionally
fortunate."
"You may have been fortunate, Kennedy," O'Sullivan remarked. "The
thing is, that you took advantage of the opportunities. You threw
yourself into the first adventure that came your way, rescued a
lovely damsel in distress, and her gratitude and that of her
father attracted the king's notice, and gained that ring on your
finger. In the next place, after escaping from the ruffians who
attacked the coach--principally, as it seems, by cutting down
their leader, and so occupying the attention of his followers--you
instantly took the resolution to attempt to rescue him and his
daughter, and succeeded in doing so. Another man might have
stopped at Moulins, congratulating himself that he had escaped
from the trap, and lamenting that he could do nothing towards
again rescuing this damsel from her abductors. Of course, it was a
piece of good fortune, meeting de la Vallee's men at Roanne; but I
have no doubt that, if you had not done so, you would still have
got to Pointdexter, gathered a force, and intercepted the
vicomte's party."
"It would have been a very near thing, O'Sullivan. Changing horse
at every post, I might have got to Pointdexter from Roanne in
twenty-four hours; but I doubt whether, even allowing that no time
was lost in getting the men together, I could have got to Tulle
before them. They had but one hundred and fifty miles to travel, I
should have had still farther; and, as they would have had three
days' start, they should have been there before me; for I heard
from the baron that, in addition to the four horses in the coach,
they had four others, ridden by troopers, fastened to it where the
road was bad."
"What would you have done if they had got to the vicomte's
chateau--it is, I believe, a strong place--before you could
intercept them?"
"I cannot say what I should have done. I thought the matter over
and over again as we rode. It seemed absurd to think of attacking
a chateau with only twelve men; and besides, it would have been a
very serious business to assault a noble in his own castle. There
would almost certainly be twenty or thirty men there, at the
least, and the ringing of the alarm bell would have brought all
his vassals within five miles round to his aid, at once. I have no
doubt that I should have attempted something, but in what way I
could form no idea, until I saw the place."
The two young men laughed.
"I believe that you would have succeeded somehow, Kennedy," O'Neil
said. "After what you have done, I have an almost unlimited faith
in you, and if you told me you could see no other plan than
carrying off His Gracious Majesty, and taking him down to Tulle
and forcing him to order this rascal vicomte to deliver up his
captives, you would accomplish it."
Desmond laughed.
"The plan might be as good as another, though I own that it had
not occurred to me; but it would certainly necessitate my having
him held prisoner until I had got safely out of France, otherwise
my fate would assuredly be to be broken on the wheel."
"Yes; I don't think His Gracious Majesty would have forgiven such
an indignity, even if put upon him for a good purpose. It is
almost treason even to dream of such a thing."
Desmond laughed.
"It was a purely imaginary case; but you see, not having been
accustomed, as you are, to a country where the king is regarded
almost as a god, I am afraid I have not that awe of him that is
generally entertained here. I have, naturally, a great respect for
the king whom I serve, and whose pay is a matter of the greatest
importance to me; but after all, although in his service, he is
not my lawful king."
"Then you would not even imagine such a thing as to take your
lawful king, James, prisoner, however much the fate of someone in
whom you were interested was concerned?"
Desmond did not answer at once.
"I don't know," he said at last, "what I should do, in such a
case. For King James, as lawful king of my country, I have the
deepest respect, and would freely venture my life in his service;
but for him as a man, irrespective of his crown, I own that my
admiration is not extreme, and that I should not hesitate to join
in any plan for putting pressure upon him, on behalf of anyone in
whom I was extremely interested, as I certainly am now in
Mademoiselle de Pointdexter and Monsieur de la Vallee."
"You are a curious fellow, Kennedy," O'Neil said, with a smile,
"and I should be very much puzzled if I were called upon to
predict what your fate is likely to be. It seems to me that you
have an equal chance of becoming a French marshal, or being broken
on the wheel. Here you are, not yet seventeen. You have, as I
doubt not, somewhat interfered with the king's plans, and caused
him the loss of one of his personal friends. You have twice
rescued a noble lady from the hands of her abductors. You have
brought disgrace and death upon a member of one of the most
powerful families in France. You have earned the gratitude and
friendship of one of the leading nobles of Southern France, that
of the fiance of his daughter, and of the daughter herself. As
soon as this affair spreads abroad, you will be the object of
general remark and attention. You have rendered the regiment to
which you belong proud of you, its junior ensign, and made Paris
emphatically too hot to hold you.
"If all this is done before you are seventeen, what may we expect
when another ten years have passed over your head?"
"You had better wait for the ten years to pass, O'Neil," Desmond
laughed; "by which time, perhaps, you and O'Sullivan will both
have learned wisdom, and will see that, because a man happens to
have gone through a very exciting adventure without discredit, it
by no means proves him to be anything in the smallest degree out
of the way."