Part 31 (1/2)
He was both angry and amused.
”She was ever an uncertain little witch, but--to an old friend! I dare say lovers have turned her head. Perhaps I have waited too long.”
There was too much pressing business for him to speculate on a girl's waywardness; orders to give, and then important matters to discuss at the warehouse before he made himself presentable at the dinner. The three years had added much to Marsac's store of knowledge, as well as to his conscious self-importance. He had been in grand houses, a favored guest, in spite of the admixture of Indian blood. His father's position was high, and Louis held more than one fortunate chance in his hand.
Developing the country was a new and attractive watchword. He had no prejudices as to who should rule, except that he understood that the French narrowness and bigotry had served them ill. Religion was, no doubt, an excellent thing; the priests helped to keep order and were in many respects serviceable. As for the new rulers, one need to be a little wary of too profound a faith in them. The Indians had not been wholly conquered, the English dreamed of re-conquest.
Detroit was not much changed under the new regime. Louis liked the great expanse at the North better. The town was only for business.
He had a certain polish and graceful manner that had come from the French side, and an intelligence that was practical and appealed to men.
He had the suavity and deference that pleased women, if he knew little about poets and writers, then coming to be the fas.h.i.+on. His French was melodious, the Indian voice scarcely perceptible.
In these three years there had been months that he had never thought of Jeanne Angelot, and he might have let her slip from his memory but for a slender thread that interested him, and of which he at last held the clew. If he found her unmarried--well, a marriage with him would advance her interests, if not--was it worth while to take trouble that could be of no benefit to one's self?
Was it an omen of success that she should cross his path almost the first thing, grown into a slim, handsome girl, with glorious eyes and a rose red mouth that he would have liked to kiss there in the public street? How proud and dignified she had been, how piquant and daring and indifferent to flattery! The saints forfend! It was not flattery at all, but the living truth.
The next day he was very busy, but he stole away once to the great oak.
Some children were playing about it, but she was not there. And there was a dance that evening, given really for his entertainment, so he must partic.i.p.ate in it.
The second day he sauntered with an indifferent air to the well known spot. A few American soldiers were busy about the barracks. How odd not to see a bit of prancing scarlet!
The door was closed top and bottom. The tailor's wife sat on her doorstep, her husband on his bench within.
”They have gone away, M'sieu,” she said. ”They went early this morning.”
He nodded. Monsieur De Ber had met him most cordially and invited him to drop in and see Madame. They were in the lane that led to St. Anne's street; he need not go out of his way.
He was welcomed with true French hospitality. Rose greeted him with a delighted surprise, coquettish and demure, being under her mother's sharp eye. Yes, here was a pretty girl!
”My husband was telling about the wonderful copper mines,” Madame began with great interest. ”There was where the Indians brought it from, I suppose, but in the old years they kept very close about it. No doubt there are fortunes and fortunes in them;” glancing up with interest.
”My father is getting a fortune out of them. He has a large tract of land thereabout. If there should be peace for years there will be great prosperity, and Detroit will have her share. It has not changed much except about the river front. Do you like the Americans for neighbors as well as the English?”
Madame gave a little shrug. ”They do not spend their money so readily, my husband says.”
”They have less to spend,” with a short laugh. ”Some of the best English families are gone. I met them at Quebec. Ah, Madame, there is a town for you!” and his eyes sparkled.
”It is very gay, I suppose,” subjoined Rose.
”Gay and prosperous. Mam'selle, you should be taken there once to show them how Detroit maids bloom. There is much driving about, while here--”
”The town spreads outside. There are some American farmers, but their methods are wild and queer.”
”You have a fine son, Madame, and a daughter married, I hear. Mam'selle, are many of the neighborhood girls mated?”
”Oh, a dozen or so,” laughed Rose. ”But--let me see, the wild little thing, Jeanne Angelot, that used to amuse the children by her pranks, still roams the woods with her Pani woman.”
”Then she has not found a lover?” carelessly.
”She plays too much with them, Monsieur. It is every little while a new one. She settles to nothing, and I think the schooling and the money did her harm. But there was no one in authority, and it is not even as if M.