Part 26 (1/2)

She kissed the paper with pa.s.sionate fervor, pouring her tears upon it in April showers between which the light of her eyes played almost fiercely, so poignant was her sense of a despair which bordered upon desperation. ”Gone, gone!” It was all she could think or say. ”Gone, gone.”

Jean took the offending novel back home with him, hidden under his jerkin; but Beverley's note lay upon Alice's heart, a sweet comfort and a crus.h.i.+ng weight, when an hour later Hamilton sent for her and she was taken before him. Her face was stained with tears and she looked pitifully distressed and disheveled; yet despite all this her beauty a.s.serted itself with subtle force.

Hamilton felt ashamed looking at her, but put on sternness and spoke without apparent sympathy:

”Miss Roussillon, you came near committing a great crime. As it is, you have done badly enough; but I wish not to be unreasonably severe. I hope you are sorry for your act, and feel like doing better hereafter.”

She was trembling, but her eyes looked steadily straight into his. They were eyes of baby innocence, yet they irradiated a strong womanly spirit just touched with the old perverse, mischievous light which she could neither banish nor control. When she did not make reply, Hamilton continued:

”You may go home now, and I shall expect to have no more trouble on your account.” He made a gesture indicative of dismissal; then, as she turned from him, he added, somewhat raising his voice:

”And further, Miss Roussillon, that flag you took from here must positively be returned. See that it is done.”

She lifted her head high and walked away, not deigning to give him a word.

”Humph! what do you think now of your fine young lady?” he demanded, turning to Helm with a sneering curl of his mouth. ”She gives thanks copiously for a kindness, don't you think?”

”Poor girl, she was scared nearly out of her life,” said Helm. ”She got away from you, like a wounded bird from a snare. I never saw a face more pitiful than hers.”

”Much pity she needs, and greatly like a wounded bird she acts, I must say; but good riddance if she'll keep her place hereafter. I despise myself when I have to be hard with a woman, especially a pretty one.

That girl's a saucy and fascinating minx, and as dangerous as twenty men. I'll keep a watch on her movements from this on, and if she gets into mischief again I'll transport her to Detroit, or give her away to the Indians, She must stop her high-handed foolishness.”

Helm saw that Hamilton was talking mere wind, VOX ET PRAETEREA NIHIL, and he furthermore felt that his babbling signified no harm to Alice; but Hamilton surprised him presently by saying:

”I have just learned that Lieutenant Beverley is actually gone. Did you know of his departure?”

”What are you saying, sir?”

Helm jumped to his feet, not angry, but excited.

”Keep cool, you need not answer if you prefer silence or evasion. You may want to go yourself soon.”

Helm burst out laughing, but quickly growing serious said:

”Has Beverley been such a driveling fool as that? Are you in earnest?”

”He killed two of my scouts, wounded another, and crossed the Wabash in their canoe. He is going straight towards Kaskaskia.”

”The idiot! Hurrah for him! If you catch your hare you may roast him, but catch him first, Governor!”

”You'll joke out of the other corner of your mouth, Captain Helm, if I find out that you gave him aid or countenance in breaking his parole.”

”Aid or countenance! I never saw him after he walked out of this room.

You gave him a devil of a sight more aid and countenance than I did.

What are you talking about! Broke his parole! He did no such thing. He returned it to you fairly, as you well know. He told you he was going.”

”Well, I've sent twenty of my swiftest Indians after him to bring him back. I'll let you see him shot. That ought to please you.”

”They'll never get him, Governor. I'll bet high on him against your twenty scalp-lifters any day. Fitzhugh Beverley is the best Indian fighter, Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton excepted, in the American colonies.”

On her way home Alice met Father Beret, who turned and walked beside her. He was so overjoyed at her release that he could scarcely speak; but held her hand and stroked it gently while she told him her story.