The Hidden Children 10 – Chambers · Library Across
Literature · Western
The Hidden Children 10Mid-Summer
18
Literature · Western
The Hidden Children 10
Mid-Summer
ChambersEnglish
Since our arrival from Westchester the weather had been more or less unsettled--fog, rain, chilling winds alternating with days of midsummer heat. But now the exhausting temperature of July remained constant; fiery days of sunshine were succeeded by nights so hot and suffocating that life seemed well-nigh insupportable under tents or in barracks, and officers and men, almost naked, lay panting along the river bank through the dreadful hours of darkness which brought no relief from the fiery furnace of the day.
Schott's riflemen mounted guard stripped to the waist; the Oneidas and Stockbridge scouts strode about unclothed save for the narrow clout and sporran; and all day and all night our soldiers splashed in the river where our horses also stood belly deep, heads hanging, under the willows.
During that brief but scorching period I went to Mrs. Rannock's every evening after dark, and usually found Lois lying in the open under the stars, the garret being like an oven, so she said.
Here we had made up our quarrel, and here, on the patch of uncut English grass, we lay listlessly, speaking only at intervals, gasping for air and coolness, which neither darkness nor stars had brought to this sun-cursed forest-land.
But for the last two nights I had not found Lois waiting for me, nor did Mrs. Rannock seem to know whither she had gone, which caused me much uneasiness.
The third evening I went to find her at Mrs. Rannock's before the after-glow had died from the coppery zenith, and I encountered her moving toward the Spring path, just entering the massed elder bloom. Her face was dewy with perspiration, pale, and somewhat haggard.
"Lois, why have you avoided me?" I exclaimed. "All manner of vague forebodings have assailed me these two days past."
"Listen to this silly lad!" she said impatiently. "As though a few hours' absence lessen loyalty and devotion!"
"But where have you been?"
"Where I may not take you, Euan."
"And where is that?" I asked bluntly.
"Lord! What a catechism is this for a free girl to answer willy-nilly! If you must know, I have played the maid of ancient Greece these two nights past. Otherwise, I had died, I think."
And seeing my perplexed mien, she began to laugh.
"Euan, you are stupid! Did not the Grecian maids spend half their lives in the bath?"
The slight flush of laughter faded from her face; the white fatigue came back; and she passed the back of one hand wearily across her brow, clearing it of the damp curls.
"The deadly sultriness of these nights," she sighed. "I was no longer able to endure the heat under the eaves among my dusty husks. So lately I have stolen at night to the Spring Waiontha to bathe in the still, cold pools. Oh, Euan, it is most delicious! I have slept there until dawn, lying up to my throat in the crystal flood." She laughed again. "And once, lying so, asleep, my body slipped and in I slid, deep, deep in, and awoke in a dreadful fright half drowned."
"Is it wise to sleep so in the Water?" I asked uneasily.
"Oh! Am I ever wise?" she said wearily. "And the blood beats in my veins these heated nights so that I am like to suffocate. I made a bed for me by Mrs. Rannock, but she sobbed in her sleep all night and I could not close my eyes, So I thought of the Spring Waiontha, and the next instant was on my way there, feeling the path with naked feet through the starlight, and dropped my clothing from me in the darkness and sank into the cool, sweet pool. Oh, it was heaven, Euan! I would you might come also."
"I can walk as far as the pool with you, at all events," said I.
"Wonderful! And will you?"
"Do I ever await asking to follow you anywhere?" said I sentimentally.
But she only laughed at me and led the way across the dreary strip of clearing, moving with a swift confidence in her knowledge of the place, which imitating, I ran foul of a charred stump, and she heard what I said.
"Poor lad!" she exclaimed contritely, slipping her hand into mine. "I should have guided you. Does it pain you?"
"Not much."
Our hands were clasped, and she pressed mine with all the sweet freedom of a comradeship which means nothing deeper. For I now had learned from her own lips, sadly enough, how it was with her--how she regarded our friendship. It was to her a deep and living thing--a noble emotion, not a passion--a belief founded on gratitude and reason, not a confused, blind longing and delight possessing every waking moment, ever creating for itself a thousand tender dreams or fanciful and grotesque apprehensions.
Clear-headed so far, reasonable in her affection, gay or tender as the mood happened, convinced that what I declared to be my love for her was but a boy's exaggeration for the same sentiments she entertained toward me, how could she have rightly understood the symptoms of this amazing malady that possessed me--these reasonless extremes of ardour, of dejection, of a happiness so keen and thrilling that it pained sometimes, and even at moments seemed to make me almost drunk.
Nor did I myself entirely comprehend what ailed me, never having been able to imagine myself in love, or ever dreamed that I possessed the capacity for such a violent devotion to any woman. I think now, at that period, somewhere under all the very real excitement and emotion of an adolescent encountering for the first time the sweet appeal of youthful mind and body, that I seemed to feel there might be in it all something not imperishable. And caught myself looking furtively and a little fearfully at her, at times, striving to conceive myself indifferent.
When we came to the Spring Waiontha I had walked straight into the water except for her, so dark it was around us. And:
"How can you ever get back alone?" said she.
"Oho!" said I, laughing, "I left the willow-tips a-dangle, breaking them with my left hand. I am woodsman enough to feel my way out."
"But not woodsman enough to spare your shins in the clearing," she said saucily.
"Shall we sit and talk?" I said.
"Oh, Euan! And my bath! I am fairly melting as I stand here."
"But I have not seen you for two entire nights, Lois."
"I know, poor boy, but you seem to have survived."
"When I do not see you every day I am most miserable."
"So am I--but I am reasonable, too. I say to myself, if I don't see Euan today I will nevertheless see him to-morrow, or the day after, or the next, God willing----"
"Lois!"
"What?"
"How can you reason so coldly?"
"I--reason coldly? There is nothing cold in me where you are concerned. But I have to console myself for not seeing you----"
"I am inconsolable," said I fervently.
"No more than am I," she retorted hotly, as though jealous that I should arrogate to myself a warmer feeling concerning her than she entertained for me.
"I care so much for you, Lois," said I.
"And I for you."
"Not as I care for you."
"Exactly as you care for me. Do you think me insensible to gratitude and affection?"
"I do not desire your gratitude for a few articles----"
"It isn't for them--though I'm grateful for those things too! It's gratitude to God for giving me you, Euan Loskiel! And you ought to take shame to yourself for doubting it!"
I said nothing, being unable to see her in the darkness, much less perceive what expression she wore for her rebuke to me. Then as I stood silent, I felt her little hands groping on my arm; and my own closed on them and I laid my lips to them.
"Ai-me!" she said softly. "Why do we fight and fret each other? Why do I, who adore you so, let you vex me and stir me to say what I do not mean at all. Always remember, Euan--always, always--that whatever I am unkind enough to say or do to vex you, in my secret mind I know that no other man on earth is comparable to you--and that you reign first in my heart--first, and all by yourself, alone."
"And will you try to love me some day, Lois?"
"I do."
"I mean----"
"Oh, Euan, I do--I do! Only--you know--not in the manner you once spoke of----"
"But I love you in that manner."
"No, you do not! If you did, doubtless I would respond; no doubt at all that I also would confess such sentiments in your regard. But it isn't true for either of us. You're a man. All men are prone to harp on those strings.... But--there is no harmony in them to me.... I know my own mind, although you say I don't--and--I do know yours, too. And if a day ever comes that neither you nor I are longer able to think clearly and calmly with our minds, but begin to reason with our emotions, then I shall consider that we are really entering into a state of love--such as you sometimes have mentioned to me--and will honestly admit as much to you.... And if you then desire to wed me, no doubt that I shall desire it, too. And I promise in that event to love you--oh, to death, Euan!" she said, pressing my hands convulsively. "If ever I love--that way--it truly will be love! Are you content with what I say?"
"I must be."
"What an ungracious answer! I could beat you soundly for it! Euan, you sometimes vex me so that I could presently push you into that pool.... I do not mean it, dearest lad. You know you already have my heart--perhaps only a child's heart yet, though I have seen ages pass away.... And my eyes have known tears.... Perhaps for that reason I am come out into this new sunshine which you have made for me, to play as children play--having never done so in my youth. Bear with me, Euan. You would not want me if there were nothing in me to respond to you. If there ever is, it will not remain silent. But first I want my play-day in the sunshine you have promised me--the sunlight of a comrade's kindness. Be not too blunt with me. You have my heart, I tell you. Let it lie quiet and safe in your keeping, like some strange, frail chrysalis. I myself know there is a miracle within it; but what that miracle may be, I may not guess till it reveals itself."
"I am a fool," I said. "God never before sent any man such a comrade as He has sent in you to me."
"That was said sweetly and loyally. Thank you. If hearts are to be awakened and won, I think it might be done that way--with such pleasant phrases--given always time."
Presently she withdrew her hands and slipped away from me in the dark.
"Be careful," said I, "or you will slip overboard."
"I mean to presently."
"Then--must I go so soon?"
She did not answer. Once I thought I heard her moving softly, but the sound came from the wrong direction.
"Lois!"
No reply.
"Lois!" I repeated uneasily.
There was a ripple in the pool, silence, then somewhere in the darkness a faint splash.
"Good Lord!" said I. "Have you fallen in?"
"Not fallen in. But I am truly in, Euan. I couldn't endure it any longer; and you didn't seem to want to go.... So please remain where you now are."
"Do you mean to say----" I began incredulously.
And, "Yes, I do!" she said, defiant. "And I think this ought to teach you what a comrade's perfect confidence can be. Never complain to me of my want of trust in you again."
In astonished and uneasy silence, I stood listening. The unseen pool rippled in the darkness with a silvery sound, as though a great fish were swirling there in the pallid lustre of the stars.
After a while she laughed outright--the light, mischievous laughter of a child.
"I feel like one of those smooth and lurking naiads which haunt lost pools--or like some ambushed water-sprite meditating malice, and slyly alert to do you a harm. Have a care, else I transform you into a fish and chase you under the water, and pinch and torment you!"
And presently her voice came again from the more distant darkness somewhere:
"Has the box which you commanded arrived yet, Euan?"
"It is at my hut. A wagon will bring it to you in the morning."
I could hear her clap her wet little hands; and she cried out softly:
"Oh!" and "Oh!" Then she said: "I did not understand at first how much I wished for everything you offered. Only when I saw the ladies at Croghan's house, as I was coming with my mending from the fort--then I knew I wanted everything you have bespoken for me.... Everything, dear lad! Oh, you don't know how truly grateful I shall be. No, you don't, Euan! And if the box is really come, when am I going with you to be made known to Mistress Bleecker?"
"I think it is better that I first bring her to you."
"Would she condescend to come?"
"I think so."
There was a pause. I seated myself. Then the soft and indecisive sound of ripples stirred by an idle hand broke the heated silence.
"You say they all are your good friends?" she remarked thoughtfully.
"I know them all. Lana Helmer I have known intimately since we were children."
"Then why is it not better to present me to her first--if you know her so very well?"
"Mrs. Bleecker is older."
"Oh! Is this Miss Helmer then so young?"
"Your age."
"Oh! My age.... And pretty?"
"The world thinks so."
"Oh! And what do you think, Euan?"
"Yes, she is pretty," said I carelessly.
There was a long silence. I sat there, my knees gathered in my arms, staring up at the stars.
Then, faintly came her voice:
"Good-night, Euan."
I rose, laid hold of the willow bush that scraped my shoulders, felt over it until I found the dangling broken branch; stepped forward, groping, until I touched the next broken branch. Then, knowing I was on my trail, I turned around and called back softly through the darkness:
"Good-night, little Lois!"
"Good-night, and sweet dreams, Euan. I will be dressed and waiting for you in the morning to go to Mrs. Bleecker, or to receive her as you and she think fitting.... Is there a looking glass in that same wonder-box?"
"Two, Lois."
"You dear and generous lad!... And are there hair-pegs? Heaven knows if my clipped poll will hold them. Anyway, I can powder and patch, and--oh, Euan! Is there lip-red and curd-lily lotion for the skin? Not that I shall love you any less if there be none----"
"I bespoke of Mr. Hake," said I, laughing, "a full beauty battery, such as I once saw Betty Schuyler show to Walter Butler, having but then received it from New York. And all I know, Lois, is that it was full of boxes, jars, and flasks, and smelled like a garden in late June. And if Mr. Hake has not chosen with discretion I shall go South and scalp him!"
"Euan, I adore you!"
"You adore your battery," said I, not convinced.
"That, too. But you more than my mirrors, and my lip-red, and the lily lotion--more than my darling shifts and stays and shoon and gowns!... I had never dreamed I could accept them from you. But you had become so dear to me--and I could read you through and through--and found you so like myself--and it gave me a new pleasure to humble my pride to your desires. That is how it came about. Also, I saw those ladies.... And I do not think I shall be great friends with your Lana Helmer--even when I am fine and brave in gown and powder to face her on equal terms----"
"Lois, what in the world are you babbling?"
"Let me babble, Euan. Never have I been so happy, so content, so excited yet so confident.... Listen; do you dread tomorrow?"
"I?"
"Yes--that I might not do you honour before your fashionable friends?... And I say to you, have no fear. If my gowns are truly what I think they are, I shall conduct without a tremour--particularly if your Lana be there, and that careless, rakish friend of yours, Lieutenant Boyd."
"Do you remember what you are to say to Boyd if he seems in any wise to think he has met you elsewhere?"
"I can avoid a lie and deal with him," she said with calm contempt. "But there is not a chance he'd know me in my powder."
There was a silence. Then the unseen water rippled and splashed.
"Poor Euan!" she said. "I wish you might dare swim here in this heavenly place with me. But we are not god and goddess, and the fabled age is vanished.... Good-night, dear lad.... And one thing more.... All you are to me--all you have done for me--don't you understand that I could not take it from you unless, in my secret heart, I knew that one day I must be to you all you desire--and all I, too, shall learn to wish for?"
"It is written," I said unsteadily. "It must come to pass."
"It must come," she said, in the hushed voice of a child who dreams, wide-eyed awake, murmuring of wonders.
I slept on the river-sand, not soundly, for all night long men and horses splashed in the water all around me, and I was conscious of many people stirring, of voices, the dip of paddles, and of the slow batteaux passing with the wavelets slapping on their bows. Then, the next I knew--bang! And the morning gun jarred me awake.
I had bathed and dressed, but had not yet breakfasted when one of our regimental wagons came to take the box to Lois--a fine and noble box indeed, in its parti-coloured cowhide cover, and a pretty pattern of brass nails all over it, making here a star and there a sunburst, around the brass plate engraven with her name: "Lois de Contrecoeur."
Then the wagon drove away, and the Sagamore and I broke bread together, seated in the willow shade, the heat in our bush-hut being insupportable.
"No more scalps, Mayaro?" I taunted him, having already inspected the unpleasant trophies behind the hut. "How is this, then? Are the Cats all skinned?"
He smiled serenely. "They have crept westward to lick their scars, Loskiel. A child may safely play in the forest now from the upper castle and Torloch to the Minnisink."
"Has Amochol gone?"
"To make strong magic for his dead Cats, little brother. The Siwanois hatchets are still sticking in the heads of Hiokatoo's Senecas. Let their eight Sachems try to pull them out."
"So you have managed to wound a Seneca or two?"
"Three, Loskiel--but the rifle was one of Sir William's, and carried to the left, and only a half-ounce ball. My brother Loskiel will make proper requisition of the Commissary of Issues and draw a weapon fit for a Mohican warrior."
"Indeed I will," said I, smilingly, knowing well enough that the four-foot, Indian-trade, smooth bore was no weapon for this warrior; nor was it any kindness in such times as these to so arm our corps of Oneida scouts.
After breakfast I went to the fort and found that Major Parr and his command had come in the night before from their long and very arduous scout beyond the Canajoharrie Castle.
The Major received me, inquiring particularly whether I had contrived to keep the Sagamore well affected toward our cause; and seemed much pleased when I told him that this Siwanois and I had practiced the rite of blood-brotherhood.
"Excellent," said he. "And I don't mind admitting to you that I place very little reliance on the mission Indians as guides--neither on the Stockbridge runners nor on the Oneidas, who have come to us more in fear of the Long House than out of any particular loyalty or desire to aid us."
"That is true, sir. They had as soon enter hell as Catharines-town."
The Major nodded and continued to open and read the letters which had arrived during his absence.
"May I draw one of our rifles for my Mohican, sir?" I asked.
"We have very few. Schott's men have not yet all drawn their arms."
"Nevertheless----"
"You think it necessary?"
"I think it best to properly arm the only reliable guide this army has in its service, Major."
"Very well, Mr. Loskiel.... And see that you keep this fellow in good humour. Use your own wit and knowledge; do as you deem best. All I ask of you is to keep this wild beast full fed and properly flattered until we march."
"Yes, sir," I said gravely, thinking to myself in a sad sort of wonder how utterly the majority of white men mistook their red brethren of the forest, and how blind they were not to impute to them the same humanity that they arrogated to themselves.
So much could have been done had men of my blood and colour dealt nobly with a noble people. Yet, even Major Parr, who was no fool and who was far more enlightened than many, spoke of a Mohican Sagamore as "this wild beast," and seriously advised me to keep him "full fed and properly flattered!"
"Yes, sir," I repeated, saluting, and almost inclined to laugh in his face.
So I first made requisition for the lang rifle, then reported to my captain, although being on special detail under Major Parr's personal orders, this was nothing more than a mere courtesy.
The parade already swarmed with our men mustering for inspection; I met Lieutenant Boyd, and we conversed for a while, he lamenting the impossibility of making a boating party with the ladies, being on duty until three o'clock. And:
"Who is this new guest of Mrs. Bleecker?" he asked curiously. "I understand that you are acquainted with her. What is her name? A Miss de Contrecoeur?"
I had not been prepared for that, never expecting that Mrs. Bleecker had already started to prepare the way; but I kept my countenance and answered coolly enough that I had the honour of knowing Miss de Contrecoeur.
"She came by batteau from Albany?"
"Her box," said I, "has just arrived from Albany by batteau."
"Is the lady young and handsome?" he asked, smiling.
"Both, Mr. Boyd."
"Well," he said, with a polite oath, "she must be something more, too, if she hopes to rival Lana Helmer."
So it had already come to such terms of intimacy that he now spoke of her as Lana. For the last few days I had not been to Croghan's house to pay my respects, the heat leaving me disinclined to stir from the shade of the river trees. Evidently it had not debarred Boyd from presenting himself, or her from receiving him, although a note brought to me from Mrs. Bleecker by her black wench said that both she and Angelina Lansing were ill with the heat and kept their rooms.
"We are bidden to cake and wine at five," said I. "Are you going?"
He said he would be present, and so I left him buckling on his belt, and the conch-horn's blast echoing over the parade, sounding the assembly.
At the gate I encountered Lana and Mrs. Lansing and our precious Ensign, come to view the inspection, and exchanged a gay greeting with them.
Then, mending my pace, I hastened to Croghan's house, and found Mrs. Bleecker pacing the foot-path and nibbling fennel.
"How agreeably cool it is growing," she said as I bent over her fingers. "I truly believe we are to have an endurable day at last." She smiled at me as I straightened up, and continued to regard me very intently, still slightly smiling.
"What has disturbed your usual equanimity, Euan? You seem as flushed and impatient as--as a lover at a tryst, for example."
At that I coloured so hotly that she laughed and took my arm, saying:
"There is no sport in plaguing so honest a heart as yours, dear lad. Come; shall we walk over to call upon your fairy princess? Or had you rather bring her here to me?"
"She also leaves it to your pleasure," I said; "Naturally," said Mrs. Bleecker, with a touch of hauteur; then, softening, smiled as much at herself as at me, I think.
"Come," she said gaily. "Sans ceremonie, n'est-ce pas?"
And we sauntered down the road.
"Her box arrived last evening," said I. "God send that Mr. Hake has chosen to please her."
"Is he married?"
"No."
"Lord!" said she gravely. "Then it is well enough that you pray.... Perhaps, however," and she gave me a mischievous look, "you have entrusted such commissions to Mr. Hake before."
"I never have!" I said earnestly, then was obliged to join in her delighted laughter.
"I knew you had not, Euan. But had I asked that question of your friend, Mr. Boyd, and had he answered me as you did, I might have thought he lied."
I said nothing.
"He is at our house every day, and every moment when he is not on duty," she remarked.
"What gallant man would not do the like, if privileged?" I said lightly.
"Lana talks with him too much. Angelina and I have kept our rooms, as I wrote you, truly dreading a stroke of the sun. But Lana! Lord! She was up and out and about with her lieutenant; and he had an Oneida to take them both boating--and then he had the canoe only, and paddled it himself.... They were gone too long to suit me," she added curtly.
"When?"
"Every night. I wish I knew where they go in their canoe. But I can do nothing with Lana.... You, perhaps, might say a friendly word to Mr. Boyd--if you are on that footing with him--to consider Lana's reputation a little more, and his own amusement a little less."
I said slowly: "Whatever footing I am on with him, I will say that to him, if you wish."
"I don't wish you to provoke him."
"I shall take pains not to."
She said impatiently: "There are far too many army duels now. It sickens me to hear of them. Besides, Lana did ever raise the devil beyond bounds with any man she could ensnare--and no harm done."
"No harm," I said. "Walter Butler had a hurt of her bright eyes, and sulked for months. And many another, Mrs. Bleecker. But somehow, Mr. Boyd--"
She nodded: "Yes--he's too much like her--but, being a man, scarcely as innocent of intention, I've said as much to her, and left her pouting--the silly little jade."
We said nothing more, having come in sight of the low house of logs where Lois dwelt.
"The poor child," said Mrs. Bleecker softly. "Lord! What a kennel for a human being!"
As we approached we saw Mrs. Rannock crossing the clearing in the distance, laden with wash from the fort; and I briefly acquainted my handsome companion with her tragic history. Then, coming to the door, I knocked. A lovely figure opened for us.
So astonished was I--it having somehow gone from my mind that Lois could be so changed, that for a moment I failed to recognise her in this flushed and radiant young creature advancing in willowy beauty from the threshold.
As she sank very low in her pretty reverence, I saw her curly hair all dusted with French powder, under the chip hat with its lilac ribbons tied beneath her chin--and the beauty-patch on her cheek I saw, and how snowy her hands were, where her fingers held her flowered gown spread.
Then, recovering, she rose gracefully from her reverence, and I saw her clear grey eyes star-brilliant as I had never seen them, and a breathless little smile edging her lips.
On Mrs. Bleecker the effect she produced was odd, for that proud and handsome young matron had flushed brightly at first, lips compressed and almost stern; and her courtesy had been none too supple either.
Then in a stupid way I went forward to make my compliments and bend low over the little hand; and as I recovered myself I found her eyes on me for the first time--and for a brief second they lingered, soft and wonderful, sweet, tender, wistful. But the next moment they were clear and brilliant again with controlled excitement, as Mrs. Bleecker stepped forward, putting out both hands impulsively. Afterward she said to me:
"It was her eyes, and the look she gave you, Euan, that convinced me."
But now, to Lois, she said very sweetly:
"I am certain that we are to become friends if you wish it as much as I do."
Lois laid her hands in hers.
"I do wish it," she said.
"Then the happy accomplishment is easy," said Mrs. Bleecker, smiling. "I had expected to yield to you very readily my interest and sympathy, but I had scarce expected to yield my heart to you at our first meeting."
Lois stood mute, the smile still stamped on her lips. Suddenly the tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away hastily; and Mrs. Bleecker's arm went 'round her waist.
They walked into the house together, and I, still dazed and mazed with the enchanted revelation of her new loveliness, wandered about among the charred stumps, my thoughts a heavenly chaos, as though a million angels were singing in my ears. I could even have seen them, save for a wondrous rosy mist that rolled around them.
How long I wandered I do not know, but presently the door opened, and Lois beckoned me, and I went in to find Mrs. Bleecker down on her knees on the puncheon floor, among the mass of pretty finery overflowing from the box.
"Did Mr. Hake's selection please you?" I asked, "Oh, Euan, how can I make you understand! Everything is too beautiful to be real, and I am certain that a dreadful Cinderella awakening is in store for me."
"Yes--but she wore the slipper in the end."
Lois gave me a shy, sweet look, then, suddenly animated, turned eagerly once more to discuss her wardrobe with her new friend.
"Your Mr. Hake has excellent taste, Euan," observed Mrs. Bleecker. "Or," she added laughingly, "perhaps your late prayer helped." And to Lois she said mischievously: "You know, my dear, that Mr. Loskiel was accustomed to petition God very earnestly that your wardrobe should please you."
Lois looked at me, the smile curving her lips into a happy tenderness.
"He is so wonderful," she said, with no embarrassment. And I saw Mrs. Bleecker look up at her, then smilingly at me, with the slightest possible nod of approbation.
For two hours and more that pair of women remained happy among the ribbons and laces; and every separate article Lois brought to me naively, for me to share her pleasure. And once or twice I saw Mrs. Bleecker watching us intently; and when discovered she only laughed, but with such sweetness and good will that it left me happy and reassured.
"We have arranged that Miss de Contrecoeur is to share my room with me at Croghan's," said Mrs. Bleecker. "And, Euan, I think you should send a wagon for her box at once. The distance is short; we will stroll home together."
I took my leave of them, contented, and walked back to the fort alone, my heart full of thankfulness for what God had done for her that day.
