XXVI
D'ri came soon with horses, one the black thoroughbred of Louisewhich had brought her on this errand. We gave them free rein,heading for the chateau. Not far up the woods-pike we met M. deLambert and the old count. The former was angry, albeit he heldhimself in hand as became a gentleman, save that he was a bit toocool with me.
"My girl, you have upset us terribly," said the learned doctor. "Ishould like to be honored with your confidence."
"And I with your kindness, dear father," said she, as her tearsbegan falling. "I am much in need of it."
"She has saved my life, m'sieur," I said.
"Then go to your work," said he, coolly, "and make the most of it."
"Ah, sir, I had rather--"
"Good-by," said Louise, giving me her hand.
"Au revoir," I said quickly, and wheeled my horse and rode away.
The boats were ready. The army was waiting for the order, nowexpected any moment, to move. General Brown had not been at hisquarters for a day.
"Judas Priest!" said D'ri, when we were alone together, "thet airgal 'd go through fire an' water fer you."
"You 're mistaken," I said.
"No, I hain't nuther," said he. "Ef I be, I 'm a reg'larout-an'-out fool, hand over fist."
He whittled a moment thoughtfully.
"Ain' no use talkin'," he added, "I can tell a hoss from ajack-rabbit any day."
"Her father does not like me," I suggested.
"Don't hev to," said D'ri, calmly.
He cut a deep slash in the stick he held, then added: "Don't makeno odds ner no diff'rence one way er t' other. I did n't like th'measles, but I hed t' hev 'em."
"He'll never permit a marriage with me," I said.
"'T ain't nec'sary," he declared soberly. "In this 'ere countrydon' tek only tew t' mek a bargain. One o' the blessin's o'liberty."
He squinted up at the sky, delivering his confidence in slowlymeasured phrases, to wit; "Wouldn't give ten cents fer no man 'at'll give up a gal 'less he 'd orter--not fer nuthin' ner nobody."
I was called out of bed at cockcrow in the morning. The baronessand a footman were at the door.
"Ah, my captain, there is trouble," she whispered. "M. de Lamberthas taken his daughters. They are going back to Paris, bag andbaggage. Left in the evening."
"By what road?"
"The turnpike militaire."
"Thanks, and good morning," I said. "I shall overhaul them."
I called D'ri, and bade him feed the horses quickly. I went to seeGeneral Brown, but he and Wilkinson were on the latter's gig, halfa mile out in the harbor. I scribbled a note to thefarmer-general, and, leaving it, ran to the stables. Our horseswere soon ready, and D'ri and I were off a bit after daylight,urging up hill and down at a swift gallop, and making the forestring with hoof-beats. Far beyond the chateau we slackened pace andwent along leisurely. Soon we passed the town where they had putup overnight, and could see the tracks of horse and coach-wheel.D'ri got off and examined them presently.
"Purty fresh," he remarked. "Can't be more 'n five mild er sofurther on."
We rode awhile in silence.
"How ye goin' t' tackle 'em?" he inquired presently.
"Going to stop them somehow," said I, "and get a littleinformation."
"An' mebbe a gal?" he suggested.
"Maybe a gal."
"Don' care s' long as ye dew th' talkin'. I can rassle er fight,but my talk in a rumpus ain' fit fer no woman t' hear, thet 'ssart'in."
We overtook the coach at a village, near ten o'clock.
D'ri rushed on ahead of them, wheeling with drawn sabre. Thedriver pulled rein, stopping quickly. M. de Lambert was on theseat beside him. I came alongside.
"Robbers!" said M. de Lambert, "What do you mean?"
The young ladies and Brovel were looking out of the door, Louisepale and troubled.
"No harm to any, m'sieur," I answered. "Put up your pistol."
I opened the coach door. M. de Lambert, hissing with anger, leapedto the road. I knew he would shoot me, and was making ready toclose with him, when I heard a rustle of silk, and saw Louisebetween us, her tall form erect, her eyes forceful and commanding.She stepped quickly to her father.
"Let me have it!" said she, taking the pistol from his hand. Sheflung it above the heads of some village folk who had gathered nearus.
"Why do you stop us?" she whispered, turning to me.
"So you may choose between him and me," I answered.
"Then I leave all for you," said she, coming quickly to my side.
"Then I leave all for you."]
The villagers began to cheer, and old D'ri flung his hat in theair, shouting, "Hurrah fer love an' freedom!"
"An' the United States of Ameriky," some one added.
"She is my daughter," said M. de Lambert, with anger, as he came upto me. "I may command her, and I shall seek the aid of the law assoon as I find a magistrate."
"But see that you find him before we find a minister," I said.
"The dominie! Here he is," said some one near us.
"Marry them," said another. "It is Captain Bell of the army, abrave and honorable man."
Does not true love, wherever seen, spread its own quality andprosper by the sympathy it commands? Louise turned to the goodman, taking his hand.
"Come," said she, "there is no time to lose."
The minister came to our help. He could not resist her appeal, sosweetly spoken. There, under an elm by the wayside, with somescore of witnesses, including Louison and the young Comte deBrovel, who came out of the coach and stood near, he made us manand wife. We were never so happy as when we stood there hand inhand, that sunny morning, and heard the prayer for God's blessing,and felt a mighty uplift in our hearts. As to my sweetheart, therewas never such a glow in her cheeks, such a light in her largeeyes, such a grace in her figure.
"Dear sister," said Louison, kissing her, "I wish I were as happy."
"And you shall be as soon as you get to Paris," said the youngcount.
"Oh, dear, I can hardly wait!" said the merry-hearted girl, lookingproudly at her new lover.
"I admire your pluck, my young man," said M. de Lambert, as weshook hands. "You Americans are a great people. I surrender; I amnot going to be foolish. Turn your horses," said he, motioning tothe driver. "We shall go back at once."
I helped Louise into the coach with her sister and the Comte deBrovel. D'ri and I rode on behind them, the village folk cheeringand waving their hats,
"Ye done it skilful," said D'ri, smiling. "Whut'd I tell ye?"
I made no answer, being too full of happiness at the moment.
"Tell ye one thing, Ray," he went on soberly: "ef a boy an' a galloves one 'nother, an' he has any grit in 'im, can't nuthin' keep'em apart long."
He straightened the mane of his horse, and then added:--
"Ner they can't nuthin' conquer 'em."
Soon after two o'clock we turned in at the chateau.
We were a merry company at luncheon, the doctor drinking our healthand happiness with sublime resignation. But I had to hurryback--that was the worst of it all. Louise walked with me to thebig gate, where were D'ri and the horses. We stopped a moment onthe way.
"Again?" she whispered, her sweet face on my shoulder. "Yes, andas often as you like. No more now--there is D'ri. Remember,sweetheart, I shall look and pray for you day and night."