Part 17 (1/2)
”Take the chances of war,” she said, smiling gravely. ”It will all come out well, no doubt.”
”I hope so, but--but I fear not.”
His face was gray with trouble. ”Helm is determined to fight, and that means--”
”Good!” she interrupted with spirit. ”I am so glad of that. I wish I could go to help him! If I were a man I'd love to fight! I think it's just delightful.”
”But it is reckless bravado; it is worse than foolishness,” said Beverley, not feeling her mood. ”What can two or three men do against an army?”
”Fight and die like men,” she replied, her whole countenance lighting up. ”Be heroic!”
”We will do that, of course; we--I do not fear death; but you--you--”
His voice choked him.
A gun shot rang out clear in the distance, and he did not finish speaking.
”That's probably the beginning,” he added in a moment, extending both hands to her. ”Good bye. I must hurry to the fort. Good bye.”
She drew a quick breath and turned so white that her look struck him like a sudden and hard blow. He stood for a second, his arms at full reach, then:
”My G.o.d, Alice, I cannot, cannot leave you!” he cried, his voice again breaking huskily.
She made a little movement, as if to take hold of his hands: but in an instant she stepped back a pace and said:
”Don't fear about me. I can take care of myself. I'm all right. You'd better return to the fort as quickly as you can. It is your country, your flag, not me, that you must think of now.”
She folded her arms and stood boldly erect.
Never before, in all his life, had he felt such a rebuke. He gave her a straight, strong look in the eyes.
”You are right, Alice.” he cried, and rushed from the house to the fort.
She held her rigid att.i.tude for a little while after she heard him shut the front gate of the yard so forcibly that it broke in pieces, then she flung her arms wide, as if to clasp something, and ran to the door; but Beverley was out of sight. She turned and dropped into a chair.
Jean came to her out of the next room. His queer little face was pale and pinched; but his jaw was set with the expression of one who has known danger and can meet it somehow.
”Are they going to scalp us?” he half whispered presently, with a shuddering lift of his distorted shoulders.
Her face was buried in her hands and she did not answer. Childlike he turned from one question to another inconsequently.
”Where did Papa Roussillon go to?” he next inquired. ”Is he going to fight?”
She shook her head.
”They'll tear down the fort, won't they?”
If she heard him she did not make any sign.
”They'll kill the Captain and Lieutenant and get the fine flag that you set so high on the fort, won't they, Alice?”
She lifted her head and gave the cowering hunchback such a stare that he shut his eyes and put up a hand, as if afraid of her. Then she impulsively took his little misshapen form in her arms and hugged it pa.s.sionately. Her bright hair fell all over him, almost hiding him.