"I should like to be among the wounded soldiers," said she, her
face brightening. "It did make me very happy to sit by your
bedside and do for you."
There was a very tender look in her eyes then.
She started to rise. A brier, stirring in the breeze, had fallen
across her hair. She let me loose the thorns, and, doing so, I
kissed her forehead--I could not help it.
"M'sieur!" she exclaimed in a whisper. Then she turned quickly
away and stood tearing a leaf in her fingers.
"Forgive me!" I pleaded, for I saw she was crying. "It was the
impulse of a moment. Pray forgive me!"
She stood motionless and made no answer, I never felt such a stir
in me, for I had a fear, a terrible fear, that I had lost what I
might never have again.
"It was honorable admiration," I continued, rising to my full
height beside her. "Tell me, ma'm'selle, have I hurt you?"
"No," said she, in a voice that trembled. "I am thinking--I am
thinking of somebody else."
The words, spoken so slowly, so sweetly, seemed, nevertheless, to
fly at me. "Of somebody else!" Whom could she mean? Had her
sister told her? Did she know of my meeting with Louison? I was
about to confess how deeply, how tenderly, I loved her. I had
spoken the first word when this thought flashed upon me, and I
halted. I could not go on.
"Ma'm'selle," I said, "I--I--if it is I of whom you are thinking,
give me only your pity, and I can be content. Sometime, perhaps, I
may deserve more. If I can be of any service to you, send for
me--command me. You shall see I am not ungrateful. Ah,
ma'm'selle," I continued, as I stood to my full height, and felt a
mighty uplift in my heart that seemed to toss the words out of me,
"I have a strong arm and a good sword, and the love of honor and
fair women."
She wiped her eyes, and turned and looked up at me. I was no
longer a sick soldier.
"It is like a beautiful story," she said thoughtfully; "and
you--you are like a knight of old. We must go home. It is long
past luncheon hour. We must hurry."
She gave me her arm up the hill, and we walked without speaking.
"I am very well to-day," I remarked as we came to the road. "If
you will wait here until I get to the big birch, I shall go around
to see if I can beat you to the door."
"It is not necessary," said she, smiling, "and--and, m'sieur, I am
not ashamed of you or of what I have done."
The baroness and Louison had not yet returned. M. Pidgeon was at
luncheon with us in the big dining room, and had much to say of the
mighty Napoleon and the coalition he was then fighting.
The great monsieur stayed through the afternoon, as the baroness
had planned a big houseparty for the night, in celebration of the
count's return. My best clothes had come by messenger from the
Harbor, and I could put myself in good fettle. The baroness and
the count and Louison came early, and we sat long together under
the trees.
The dinner was at seven. There were more than a dozen guests,
among whom were a number I had seen at the chateau--Mr. David
Parish of Ogdensburg, who arrived late in a big, two-wheeled cart
drawn by four horses that came galloping to the door, and General
Wilkinson, our new commander in the North, a stout, smooth-faced
man, who came with Mr. Parish in citizen's dress.
At dinner the count had much to say of scenes of excitement in
Albany, where he had lately been. The baroness and her wards were
resplendent in old lace and sparkling jewels. Great haunches of
venison were served from a long sideboard; there was a free flow of
old Madeira and Burgundy and champagne and cognac. Mr. Parish and
the count and the general and Moss Kent and M. Pidgeon sat long at
the table, with cigars and coffee, after the rest of us had gone to
the parlors, and the big room rang with their laughter. The young
Marquis de Gonvello and Mr. Marc Isambert Brunel of the Compagnie,
who, afterward founded the great machine-shops of the Royal Navy
Yard at Portsmouth and became engineer of the Thames tunnel, and
Pierre Chassinis, Jr., and I waltzed with the ladies. Presently I
sat down near the baroness, who was talking in French with Therese
Le Ray, the count's daughter.
"Pardon my using French," said the baroness, turning to me, "for I
believe you do not use it, and, my friend, it is a misfortune, for
you miss knowing what good company is the Ma'm'selle Le Ray."
"And I miss much pleasure and mayhap a duel with the marquis," I
said, laughing; "but I beg you to proceed with your talk. I have
learned many words since I came here, and I love the sound of it."
"We saw British soldiers to-day," she continued to Ma'm'selle Le
Ray, in French. "They crossed the road near us on their horses."
Louison came over and sat by them.
"They were not in uniform," the baroness continued, "but I knew
they were English; you cannot mistake them."
"And what do you think ?" said Louison, eagerly. "One of them
threatened to kiss me."
"Indeed, that was terrible," said Ma'm'selle Le Ray. "You must
have been afraid."
"Yes," said she, smiling, "afraid he wouldn't. They were a
good-looking lot."
"I do not think he was speaking of you at all," said the baroness.
"He was looking at me when--"
"Ciel!" exclaimed Louison, laughing. "That is why they turned
suddenly and fled into the fields."
I fled, too,--perhaps as suddenly as the Britishers,--to save
myself the disgrace of laughter.
The great clock in the hall above-stairs tolled the hour of two.
The ladies had all gone to bed save the baroness. The butler had
started upstairs, a candelabrum in his hand. Following him were
the count and Mr. Parish, supporting the general between them. The
able soldier had overrated his capacity. All had risen to go to
their rooms. Of a sudden we were startled by a loud rap on the
front door. A servant opened it, and immediately I heard the
familiar voice of D'ri.
"Is they anybody here by the name o' Mister Bell?" he asked.
I ran to the door, and there stood D'ri, his clothes wet, his boots
muddy, for it had been raining. Before he could speak I had my
arms around him, and he sank to his knees in my embrace. He was
breathing heavily.
"Tired out--thet's whut's the matter," he muttered, leaning over on
one hand. "Come through the woods t' save yer life, I did, an'
they was tight up t' me all the way."
"Poor fellow!" said the baroness, who stood at the door. "Help him
in at once and give him a sip of brandy."
"Tuk me prisoner over there 'n the woods thet day," said he,
sinking into a chair and leaning forward, his head on his hands.
"They tuk 'n' they toted me over t' Canady, an' I tuk 'n' got away,
'n' they efter me. Killed one on 'em thet was chasin' uv me over
'n the Beaver medders on the bog trail. Hoss got t' wallerin' so
he hed t' come down. Riz up out o' the grass 'n' ketched holt uv
'im 'fore he c'u'd pull a weepon. Tuk this out uv his pocket, an'
I tried to git the boss out o' the mire, but didn't hev time."
He sat erect and proudly handed me a sheet of paper. I opened it,
and read as follows:--
"To CAPTAIN ELIAS WILKINS, _Royal Fusiliers_.
"_My dear Captain_: You will proceed at once across the river with
a detail of five men mounted and three days' rations, and, if
possible, capture the prisoner who escaped early this morning,
making a thorough search of the woods in Jefferson County. He has
information of value to the enemy, and I regard his death or
capture of high and immediate importance. I am informed that the
young desperado who murdered my Lord of Pickford in the forest
below Clayton June 29, escaping, although badly wounded, is lying
at the country-seat of the Baroness de Ferre, a Frenchwoman, at
Leraysville, Jefferson County, New York. It would gratify me if
you could accomplish one or both captures. With respect, I am,
"Your Obedient Servant,
"R. SHEAFFER, _General Commanding_."
"They 'll be here," said D'ri. "They 'll be here jest es sure es
God--'fore daylight, mebbe. But I can't fight er dew nothin' till
I 've tied some vittles."
"You shall have supper," said the baroness, who, without delay,
went to the kitchen herself with a servant to look after it. The
butler brought a pair of slippers and a dry coat, while I drew off
the boots of my good friend. Then I gave him my arm as he limped
to the kitchen beside me. The baroness and I sat near him as he
ate.
"Go upstairs and call the gentlemen," said she to the butler, "Do
not make any disturbance, but say I should like to speak with them
in the dining room."
"Is thet air hired man o' yours a Britisher?" D'ri inquired as
soon as the butler was gone.
"He is--from Liverpool," said she.
"Thet's the hole 'n the fence," said he. "Thet's where the goose
got away."
"The goose! The geese!" said the baroness, thoughtfully. "I do
not understand you."
"Went 'n' blabbed, thet's whut he done," said D'ri. "Mebbe wrote
'em a letter, gol-dum his pictur'."
"Oh, I perceive! I understand," said she; "and I send him away
to-morrow."
"Neck's broke with hunger," said D'ri. "Never threw no vittles 'n
my basket with sech a splendid taste tew 'em es these hev."
The baroness looked at him with some show of worry.
"I beg your pardon," said she, "did you say the neck of you was
broken?"