CHAPTER XX
ALICE'S FLAG
Governor Hamilton received the note sent him by Colonel Clark andreplied to it with curt dignity; but his heart was quaking. As asoldier he was true to the military tradition, and nothing could haveinduced him to surrender his command with dishonor.
"Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton," he wrote to Clark, "begs leave toacquaint Colonel Clark that he and his garrison are not disposed to beawed into any action unworthy of British subjects."
"Very brave words," said Helm, when Hamilton read the note to him, "butyou'll sing a milder tune before many minutes, or you and your wholegarrison will perish in a bloody heap. Listen to those wild yells!Clark has enough men to eat you all up for breakfast. You'd better bereasonable and prudent. It's not bravery to court massacre."
Hamilton turned away without a word and sent the message; but Helm sawthat he was excited, and could be still further wrought up.
"You are playing into the hands of your bitterest enemies, thefrog-eaters," he went on. "These creoles, over whom you've held a hotpoker all winter, are crazy to be turned loose upon you; and you knowthat they've got good cause to feel like giving you the extremepenalty. They'll give it to you without a flinch if they get thechance. You've done enough."
Hamilton whirled about and glared ferociously.
"Helm, what do you mean?" he demanded in a voice as hollow as it wasfull of desperate passion.
The genial Captain laughed, as if he had heard a good joke.
"You won't catch any fish if you swear, and you look blasphemous," hesaid with the lightness of humor characteristic of him at all times."You'd better say a prayer or two. Just reflect a moment upon the awfulsins you have committed and--"
A crash of coalescing volleys from every direction broke off hislevity. Clark was sending his response to Hamilton's lofty note. Theguns of freedom rang out a prophecy of triumph, and the hissing bulletsclucked sharply as they entered the solid logs of the walls or whiskedthrough an aperture and bowled over a man. The British musketeersreturned the fire as best they could, with a courage and a stubborncoolness which Helm openly admired, although he could not hide hissatisfaction whenever one of them was disabled.
"Lamothe and his men are refusing to obey orders," said Farnsworth alittle later, hastily approaching Hamilton, his face flushed and agleam of hot anger in his eyes. "They're in a nasty mood; I can donothing with them; they have not fired a shot."
"Mutiny?" Hamilton demanded.
"Not just that. They say they do not wish to fire on their kinsmen andfriends. They are all French, you know, and they see their cousins,brothers, uncles and old acquaintances out there in Clark's rabble. Ican do nothing with them."
"Shoot the scoundrels, then!"
"It will be a toss up which of us will come out on top if we try that.Besides, if we begin a fight inside, the Americans will make short workof us."
"Well, what in hell are we to do, then?"
"Oh, fight, that's all," said Farnsworth apathetically turning to asmall loop-hole and leveling a field glass through it. "We might make arush from the gates and stampede them," he presently added. Then heuttered an exclamation of great surprise.
"There's Lieutenant Beverley out there," he exclaimed.
"You're mistaken, you're excited," Hamilton half sneeringly remarked,yet not without a shade of uneasiness in his expression. "You forget,sir."
"Look for yourself, it's easily settled," and Farnsworth proffered theglass. "He's there, to a certainty, sir."
"I saw Beverley an hour ago," said Helm. "I knew all the time that he'dbe on hand."
It was a white lie. Captain Helm was as much surprised as his captorsat what he heard; but he could not resist the temptation to be annoying.
Hamilton looked as Farnsworth directed, and sure enough, there was theyoung Virginian Lieutenant, standing on a barricade, his hat off,cheering his men with a superb show of zeal. Not a hair of his head wasmissing, so far as the glass could be relied upon to show.
Oncle Jazon's quick old eyes saw the gleam of the telescope tube in theloop-hole.
"I never could shoot much," he muttered, and then a little bullet spedwith absolute accuracy from his disreputable looking rifle andshattered the object-lens, just as Hamilton moved to withdraw theglass, uttering an ejaculation of intense excitement.
"Such devils of marksmen!" said he, and his face was haggard. "Thatinfernal Indian lied."
"I could have told you all the time that the scalp Long-Hair brought toyou was not Beverley's," said Helm indifferently. "I recognizedLieutenant Barlow's hair as soon as I saw it."
This was another piece of off-hand romance. Helm did not dream that hewas accidentally sketching a horrible truth.
"Barlow's!" exclaimed Farnsworth.
"Yes, Barlow's, no mistake--"
Two more men reeled from a port-hole, the blood spinning far out oftheir wounds. Indeed, through every aperture in the walls the bulletswere now humming like mad hornets.
"Close that port-hole!" stormed Hamilton; then turning to Farnsworth headded: "We cannot endure this long. Shut up every place large enoughfor a bullet to get through. Go all around, give strict orders to all.See that the men do not foolishly expose themselves. Those ruffians outthere have located every crack."
His glimpse of Beverley and the sinister remark of Helm had completelyunmanned him before his men fell. Now it rushed upon him that if hewould escape the wrath of the maddened creoles and the vengeance ofAlice's lover, he must quickly throw himself upon the mercy of Clark.It was his only hope. He chafed inwardly, but bore himself with sterncoolness. He presently sought Farnsworth, pulled him aside andsuggested that something must be done to prevent an assault and amassacre. The sounds outside seemed to forebode a gathering for adesperate rush, and in his heart he felt all the terrors of awfulanticipation.
"We are completely at their mercy, that is plain," he said, shrugginghis shoulders and gazing at the wounded men writhing in their agony."What do you suggest?"
Captain Farnsworth was a shrewd officer. He recollected that PhilipDejean, justice of Detroit, was on his way down the Wabash from thatpost, and probably near at hand, with a flotilla of men and supplies.Why not ask for a few days of truce? It could do no harm, and if agreedto, might be their salvation. Hamilton jumped at the thought, andforthwith drew up a note which he sent out with a white flag. Neverbefore in all his military career had he been so comforted by a suddencessation of fighting. His soul would grovel in spite of him. Alice'scold face now had Beverley's beside it in his field of inner vision--adouble assurance of impending doom, it seemed to him.
There was short delay in the arrival of Colonel Clark's reply, hastilyscrawled on a bit of soiled paper. The request for a truce was flatlyrefused; but the note closed thus:
"If Mr. Hamilton is Desirous of a Conferance with Col. Clark he willmeet him at the Church with Captn. Helms."
The spelling was not very good, and there was a redundancy of capitalletters; yet Hamilton understood it all; and it was very difficult forhim to conceal his haste to attend the proposed conference. But he wasafraid to go to the church--the thought chilled him. He could not faceFather Beret, who would probably be there. And what if there should beevidences of the funeral?--what if?--he shuddered and tried to breakaway from the vision in his tortured brain.
He sent a proposition to Clark to meet him on the esplanade before themain gate of the fort; but Clark declined, insisting upon the church.And thither he at last consented to go. It was an immense brace to hisspirit to have Helm beside him during that walk, which, although buteighty yards in extent, seemed to him a matter of leagues. On the wayhe had to pass near the new position taken up by Beverley and his men.It was a fine test of nerve, when the Lieutenant's eyes met those ofthe Governor. Neither man permitted the slightest change of countenanceto betray his feelings. In fact, Beverley's face was as rigid asmarble; he could not have changed it.
But with Oncle Jazon it was a different affair. He had no dignity t
opreserve, no fine military bearing to sustain, no terrible tug ofconscience, no paralyzing grip of despair on his heart. When he sawHamilton going by, bearing himself so superbly, it affected the Frenchvolatility in his nature to such an extent that his tongue could not becontrolled.
"Va t'en, bete, forban, meurtrier! Skin out f'om here! beast, robber,murderer!" he cried, in his keen screech-owl voice. "I'll git thetscelp o' your'n afore sundown, see 'f I don't! Ye onery gal-killer an'ha'r buyer!"
The blood in Hamilton's veins caught no warmth from these remarks; buthe held his head high and passed stolidly on, as if he did not hear aword. Helm turned the tail of an eye upon Oncle Jazon and gave him adroll, quizzical wink of approval. In response the old man withgrotesque solemnity drew his buckhorn handled knife, licked its bladeand returned it to its sheath,--a bit of pantomime well understood andkeenly enjoyed by the onlooking creoles.
"Putois! coquin!" they jeered, "goujat! poltron!"
Beverley heard the taunting racket, but did not realize it, which waswell enough, for he could not have restrained the bitter effervescence.He stood like a statue, gazing fixedly at the now receding figure, thelofty, cold-faced man in whom centered his hate of hates. Clark hadrequested him to be present at the conference in the church; but hedeclined, feeling that he could not meet Hamilton and restrain himself.Now he regretted his refusal, half wishing that--no, he could notassassinate an enemy under a white flag. In his heart he prayed thatthere would be no surrender, that Hamilton would reject every offer. Tostorm the fort and revel in butchering its garrison seemed the onlydesirable thing left for him in life.
Father Beret was, indeed, present at the church, as Hamilton haddreaded; and the two duelists gave each other a rapier-like eye-thrust.Neither spoke, however, and Clark immediately demanded a settlement ofthe matter in hand. He was brusque and imperious to a degree,apparently rather anxious to repel every peaceful advance.
It was a laconic interview, crisp as autumn ice and bitter asgallberries. Colonel Clark had no respect whatever for Hamilton, towhom he had applied the imperishable adjective "hair-buyer General." Onthe other hand Governor Hamilton, who felt keenly the disgrace ofhaving to equalize himself officially and discuss terms of surrenderwith a rough backwoodsman, could not conceal his contempt of Clark.
The five men of history, Hamilton, Helm, Hay, Clark and Bowman, werenot distinguished diplomats. They went at their work rather after thehammer-and-tongs fashion. Clark bluntly demanded unconditionalsurrender. Hamilton refused. They argued the matter. Helm put in hisoar, trying to soften the situation, as was his custom on alloccasions, and received from Clark a stinging reprimand, with thereminder that he was nothing but a prisoner on parole, and had no voiceat all in settling the terms of surrender.
"I release him, sir," said Hamilton. "He is no longer a prisoner. I amquite willing to have Captain Helm join freely in our conference."
"And I refuse to permit his acceptance of your favor," responded Clark."Captain Helm, you will return with Mr. Hamilton to the fort and remainhis captive until I free you by force. Meantime hold your tongue."
Father Beret, suave looking and quiet, occupied himself at the littlealtar, apparently altogether indifferent to what was being said; but helost not a word of the talk.
"Qui habet aures audiendi, audiat," he inwardly repeated, smilingblandly. "Gaudete in illa die, et exultate!"
Hamilton rose to go; deep lines of worry creased his face; but when theparty had passed outside, he suddenly turned upon Clark and said:
"Why do you demand impossible terms of me?"
"I will tell you, sir," was the stern answer, in a tone in which therewas no mercy or compromise. "I would rather have you refuse. I desirenothing so much as an excuse to wreak full and bloody vengeance onevery man in that fort who has engaged in the business of employingsavages to scalp brave, patriotic men and defenseless women andchildren. The cries of the widows and the fatherless on our frontiersrequire the blood of the Indian partisans at my hands. If you choose torisk the massacre of your garrison to save those despicable red-handedpartisans, have your pleasure. What you have done you know better thanI do. I have a duty to perform. You may be able to soften its nature. Imay take it into my head to send for some of our bereaved women towitness my terrible work and see that it is well done, if you insistupon the worst."
Major Hay, who was Hamilton's Indian agent, now, with some difficultyclearing his throat, spoke up.
"Pray, sir," said he, "who is it that you call Indian partisans?"
"Sir," replied Clark, seeing that his words had gone solidly home, "Itake Major Hay to be one of the principals."
This seemed to strike Hay with deadly force. Clark's report says thathe was "pale and trembling, scarcely able to stand," and that "Hamiltonblushed, and, I observed, was much affected at his behavior."Doubtless, if the doughty American commander had known more about theGovernor's feelings just then, he would have added that an awful fear,even greater than the Indian agent's, did more than anything else tocongest the veins in his face."
The parties separated without reaching an agreement; but the end hadcome. The terror in Hamilton's soul was doubled by a wild scene enactedunder the walls of his fort; a scene which, having no proper place inthis story, strong as its historical interest unquestionably is, mustbe but outlined. A party of Indians returning from a scalpingexpedition in Kentucky and along the Ohio, was captured on theoutskirts of the town by some of Clark's men, who proceeded to kill andscalp them within full view of the beleaguered garrison, after whichtheir mangled bodies were flung into the river.
If the British commander needed further wine of dread to fill his cupwithal, it was furnished by ostentatious marshaling of the Americanforces for a general assault. His spirit broke completely, so that itlooked like a godsend to him when Clark finally offered terms ofhonorable surrender, the consummation of which was to be postponeduntil the following morning. He accepted promptly, appending to thearticles of capitulation the following reasons for his action: "Theremoteness from succor; the state and quantity of provisions, etc.;unanimity of officers and men in its expediency; the honorable termsallowed; and, lastly, the confidence in a generous enemy."
Confidence in a generous enemy! Abject fear of the vengeance justwreaked upon his savage emissaries would have been the true statement.Beverley read the paper when Clark sent for him; but he could not joinin the extravagant delight of his fellow officers and their brave men.What did all this victory mean to him? Hamilton to be treated as anhonorable prisoner of war, permitted to strut forth from the feat withhis sword at his side, his head up--the scalp-buyer, the murderer ofAlice! What was patriotism to the crushed heart of a lover? Even if hisvision had been able to pierce the future and realize the splendor ofAnglo-Saxon civilization which was to follow that little triumph atVincennes, what pleasure could it have afforded him? Alice, Alice, onlyAlice; no other thought had influence, save the recurring surge ofdesire for vengeance upon her murderer.
And yet that night Beverley slept, and so forgot his despair for manyhours, even dreamed a pleasant dream of home, where his childhood wasspent, of the stately old house on the breezy hill-top overlooking asunny plantation, with a little river lapsing and shimmering throughit. His mother's dear arms were around him, her loving breath stirredhis hair; and his stalwart, gray-headed father sat on the verandacomfortably smoking his pipe, while away in the wide fields the negroessang at the plow and the hoe. Sweeter and sweeter grew the scene,softer the air, tenderer the blending sounds of the water-murmur,leaf-rustle, bird-song, and slave-song, until hand in hand he wanderedwith Alice in greening groves, where the air was trembling with theecstacy of spring.
A young officer awoke him with an order from Clark to go on duty atonce with Captains Worthington and Williams, who, under Colonel Clarkhimself, were to take possession of the fort. Mechanically he obeyed.The sun was far up, shining between clouds of a leaden, watery hue, bythe time everything was ready for the important ceremony. Beside themain gate of the s
tockade two companies of patriots under Bowman andMcCarty were drawn up as guards, while the British garrison filed outand was taken in charge. This bit of formality ended, GovernorHamilton, attended by some of his officers, went back into the fort andthe gate was closed.
Clark now gave orders that preparations be made for hauling down theBritish flag and hoisting the young banner of liberty in its place,when everything should be ready for a salute of thirteen guns from thecaptured battery.
Helm's round face was beaming. Plainly it showed that his happiness wassupreme. He dared not say anything, however; for Clark was now allsternness and formality; it would be dangerous to take any liberties;but he could smile and roll his quid of tobacco from cheek to cheek.
Hamilton and Farnsworth, the latter slightly wounded in the left arm,which was bandaged, stood together somewhat apart from their fellowofficers, while preliminary steps for celebrating their defeat andcapture were in progress. They looked forlorn enough to have exciteddeep sympathy under fairer conditions.
Outside the fort the creoles were beginning a noise of jubilation. Therumor of what was going to be done had passed from mouth to mouth,until every soul in the town knew and thrilled with expectancy. Men,women and children came swarming to see the sight, and to hear at closerange the crash of the cannon. They shouted, in a scattering way atfirst, then the tumult grew swiftly to a solid rolling tide that seemedbeyond all comparison with the population of Vincennes. Hamilton heardit, and trembled inwardly, afraid lest the mob should prove too strongfor the guard.
One leonine voice roared distinctly, high above the noise. It was asound familiar to all the creoles,--that bellowing shout of GaspardRoussillon's. He was roaming around the stockade, having been turnedback by the guard when he tried to pass through the main gate.
"They shut me out!" he bellowed furiously. "I am Gaspard Roussillon,and they shut me out, me! Ziff! me voici! je vais entrer immediatement,moi!"
He attracted but little attention, however; the people and the soldierywere all too excited by the special interest of the occasion, and toobusy with making a racket of their own, for any individual, even thegreat Roussillon, to gain their eyes or ears. He in turn scarcely heardthe tumult they made, so self-centered were his burning thoughts andfeelings. A great occasion in Vincennes and he, Gaspard Roussillon, notrecognized as one of the large factors in it! Ah, no, never! And hestrode along the wall of the stockade, turning the corners and heavilyshambling over the inequalities till he reached the postern. It was notfastened, some one having passed through just before him.
"Ziff!" he ejaculated, stepping into the area and shaking himself afterthe manner of a dusty mastiff. "C'est moi! Gaspard Roussillon!" Hismassive under jaw was set like that of a vise, yet it quivered withrage, a rage which was more fiery condensation of self-approval thananger.
Outside the shouting, singing and huzzahs gathered strength and volume,until the sound became a hoarse roar. Clark was uneasy; he hadoverheard much of a threatening character during the siege. The creoleswere, he knew, justly exasperated, and even his own men had beenshowing a spirit which might easily be fanned into a dangerous flame ofvengeance. He was very anxious to have the formalities of takingpossession of the fort over with, so that he could the better controlhis forces. Sending for Beverley he assigned him to the duty of haulingdown the British flag and running up that of Virginia. It was an honorof no doubtful sort, which under different circumstances would havemade the Lieutenant's heart glow. As it was, he proceeded without anysense of pride or pleasure, moving as a mere machine in performing anact significant beyond any other done west of the mountains, in thegreat struggle for American independence and the control of Americanterritory.
Hamilton stood a little way from the foot of the tall flag-pole, hisarms folded on his breast, his chin slightly drawn in, his browscontracted, gazing steadily at Beverley while he was untying thehalyard, which had been wound around the pole's base about three feetabove the ground. The American troops in the fort were disposed so asto form three sides of a hollow square, facing inward. Oncle Jazon,serving as the ornamental extreme of one line, was conspicuous for hisoutlandish garb and unmilitary bearing. The silence inside the stockadeoffered a strong contrast to the tremendous roar of voices outside.Clark made a signal, and at the tap of a drum, Beverley shook the ropesloose and began to lower the British colors. Slowly the bright emblemof earth's mightiest nation crept down in token of the fact that ahandful of back-woodsmen had won an empire by a splendid stroke of pureheroism. Beverley detached the flag, and saluting, handed it to ColonelClark. Hamilton's breast heaved and his iron jaws tightened theirpressure until the lines of his cheeks were deep furrows of pain.
Father Beret, who had just been admitted, quietly took a place at oneside near the wall. There was a fine, warm, benignant smile on his oldface, yet his powerful shoulders drooped as if weighted down with aheavy load. Hamilton was aware when he entered, and instantly the sceneof their conflict came into his memory with awful vividness, and he sawAlice lying outstretched, stark and, cold, the shining strand of hairfluttering across her pallid cheek. Her ghost overshadowed him.
Just then there was a bird-like movement, a wing-like rustle, and alight figure flitted swiftly across the area. All eyes were turned uponit. Hamilton recoiled, as pale as death, half lifting his hands, as ifto ward off a deadly blow, and then a gay flag was flung out over hishead. He saw before him the girl he had shot; but her beautiful facewas not waxen now, nor was it cold or lifeless. The rich red blood wasstrong under the browned, yet delicate skin, the eyes were bright andbrave, the cherry lips, slightly apart, gave a glimpse of pearl whiteteeth, and the dimples,--those roguish dimples,--twinkled sweetly.
Colonel Clark looked on in amazement, and in spite of himself, inadmiration. He did not understand; the sudden incident bewildered him;but his virile nature was instantly and wholly charmed. Something likea breath of violets shook the tenderest chords of his heart.
Alice stood firmly, a statue of triumph, her right arm outstretched,holding the flag high above Hamilton's head; and close by her side thelittle hunchback Jean was posed in his most characteristic attitude,gazing at the banner which he himself had stolen and kept hidden forAlice's sake, and because he loved it.
There was a dead silence for some moments, during which Hamilton's faceshowed that he was ready to collapse; then the keen voice of OncleJazon broke forth:
"Vive Zhorzh Vasinton! Vim la banniere d'Alice Roussillon!"
He sprang to the middle of the area and flung his old cap high in air,with a shrill war-whoop.
"H'ist it! h'ist it! hissez la banniere de Mademoiselle AliceRoussillon! Voila, que c'est glorieuse, cette banniere la! H'ist it!h'ist it!"
He was dancing with a rickety liveliness, his goatish legs andshriveled body giving him the look of an emaciated satyr.
Clark had been told by some of his creole officers the story of howAlice raised the flag when Helm took the fort, and how she snatched itfrom Hamilton's hand, as it were, and would not give it up when hedemanded it. The whole situation pretty soon began to explain itself,as he saw what Alice was doing. Then he heard her say to Hamilton,while she slowly swayed the rippling flag back and forth:
"I said, as you will remember, Monsieur le Gouverneur, that when younext should see this flag, I should wave it over your head. Well, look,I am waving it! Vive la republique! Vive George Washington! What do youthink of it, Monsieur le Gouverneur?"
The poor little hunchback Jean took off his cap and tossed it inrhythmical emphasis, keeping time to her words.
And now from behind the hollow square came a mighty voice:
"C'est moi, Gaspard Roussillon; me voici, messieurs!"
There was a spirit in the air which caught from Alice a thrill ofromantic energy. The men in the ranks and the officers in front of themfelt a wave of irresistible sympathy sweep through their hearts. Herpicturesque beauty, her fine temper, the fitness of the incident to theoccasion, had an instantaneous power which moved all men
alike.
"Raise her flag! Run up the young lady's flag!" some one shouted, andthen every voice seemed to echo the words. Clark was a young man ofnoble type, in whose veins throbbed the warm chivalrous blood of thecavaliers. A waft of the suddenly prevailing influence bore him alsoquite off his feet. He turned to Beverley and said:
"Do it! It will have a great effect. It is a good idea; get the younglady's flag and her permission to run it up."
Before he finished speaking, indeed at the first glance, he saw thatBeverley, like Hamilton, was white as a dead man; and at the same timeit came to his memory that his young friend had confided to him duringthe awful march through the prairie wilderness, a love-story about thisvery Alice Roussillon. In the worry and stress of the subsequentstruggle, he had forgotten the tender basis upon which Beverley hadrested his excuse for leaving Vincennes. Now, it all reappeared injustification of what was going on. It touched the romantic core of hissouthern nature.
"I say, Lieutenant Beverley," he repeated, "beg the young lady'spermission to use her flag upon this glorious occasion; or shall I doit for you?"
There were no miracles in those brave days, and the strain of life withits terrible realities braced all men and women to meet suddenexplosions of surprise, whether of good or bad effect, with admirableequipoise; but Beverley's trial, it must be admitted, wasextraordinary; still he braced himself quickly and his whole expressionchanged when Clark moved to go to Alice. For he realized now that itwas, indeed, Alice in flesh and blood, standing there, the center ofadmiration, filling the air with her fine magnetism and crowning agreat triumph with her beauty. He gave her a glad, flashing smile, asif he had just discovered her, and walked straight to her, his handsextended. She was not looking toward him; but she saw him and turned toface him. Hers was the advantage; for she had known, for some hours, ofhis presence in Vincennes, and had prepared herself to meet himcourageously and with maidenly reserve.
There is no safety, however, where Love lurks. Neither Beverley norAlice was as much agitated at Hamilton, yet they both forgot, what heremembered, that a hundred grim frontier soldiers were looking on.Hamilton had his personal and official dignity to sustain, and hefairly did it, under what a pressure of humiliating and surprisingcircumstances we can fully comprehend. Not so with the two youngpeople, standing as it were in a suddenly bestowed and incomparablehappiness, on the verge of a new life, each to the other an unexpected,unhoped-for resurrection from the dead. To them there was no universesave the illimitable expanse of their love. In that moment of meeting,all that they had suffered on account of love was transfused and pouredforth,--a glowing libation for love's sake,--a flood before which allbarriers broke.
Father Beret was looking on with a strange fire in his eyes, and whathe feared would happen, did happen. Alice let the flag fall atHamilton's feet, when Beverley came near her smiling that great, gladsmile, and with a joyous cry leaped into his outstretched arms.
Jean snatched up the fallen banner and ran to Colonel Clark with it.Two minutes later it was made fast and the halyard began to squeakthrough the rude pulley at the top of the pole. Up, up, climbed the gaylittle emblem of glory, while the cannon crashed from the embrasures ofthe blockhouse hard by, and outside the roar of voices redoubled.Thirteen guns boomed the salute, though it should have beenfourteen,--the additional one for the great Northwestern Territory,that day annexed to the domain of the young American Republic. The flagwent up at old Vincennes never to come down again, and when it reachedits place at the top of the staff, Beverley and Alice stood side byside looking at it, while the sun broke through the clouds and flashedon its shining folds, and love unabashed glorified the two strong youngfaces.