Lords of the North Part 16

"Interesting and delightful?" I interrogated in sheer amazement. This girl utterly dumfounded me, and in the conceit of youth I thought it strange that any girl could dumfound me.

"What an interesting life you have had, to be sure!"

"I have had?"

"Yes, don't you know you've been talking in torrents for the past ten minutes? No? Do you forget?" and she laughed tremulously either from embarra.s.sment, or cold.

"Well!" said I, befooled into good-humor and laughing back. "If you give me a day's warning, I'll try to keep up with you."

"Ah! There! I've put you through the ice at last! It's been such hard work!"

"And I come up badly doused!"

"Stimulated too! You're doing well already!"

"My thanks to my instructor," and catching the spirit of her mockery, I swept her a courtly bow.

"There! There!" she cried, dropping raillery as soon as I took it up.

"You were cross at the window. I was cross on the flats. You nearly wrenched my hand off----"

"Can you blame me?" I asked. "And to pay me back you turned my head and stole my heart----"

"Hus.h.!.+" she interrupted. "Let's clean the slate and begin again."

"With all my heart, if you'll wear this tartan and stop s.h.i.+vering." I was not ready to consent to an unconditional surrender.

"I hate your 'ifs' and 'buts' and so-much-given-for-so-much-got," she exclaimed with an impatient, little stamp, "but--but--" she added inconsistently, "if--if--you'll keep one end of the plaid for yourself, I'll take the other."

"Ho--ho! I like 'ifs' and 'buts.' Have you more of that kind?" I laughed, whisking the fold about us both. Drawing her hand into mine, I kept it there.

"It isn't so cold as--as that, is it?" asked the voice under the plaid.

"Quite," I returned valiantly, tightening my clasp. She laughed a low, mellow laugh that set my heart beating to the tune of a trip-hammer. I felt a great intoxication of strength that might have razed Fort Douglas to the ground and conquered the whole world, which, I dare say, other young men have felt when the same kind of weight hung upon their protection.

"Oh! Little Statue! Why have you been so hard on us?" I began.

"_Us?_" she asked.

"Me--then," and I gulped down my embarra.s.sment.

"Because----"

"Because what?"

"No _what_. Just because!" She was astonished that her decisive reason did not satisfy.

"Because! A woman's reason!" I scoffed.

"Because! It's the best and wisest and most wholesome reason ever invented. Think what it avoids saying and what wisdom may be behind it!"

"Only wisdom?"

"You be careful! There'll be another cold plunge! Tell me about your friend's wife, Miriam," she answered, changing the subject.

And when I related my strange mission and she murmured, "How n.o.ble," I became a very Samson of strength, ready to vanquish an army of Philistine admirers with the jawbone of my inflated self-confidence--provided, always, one queen of the combat were looking on.

"Are you cold, now?" I asked, though the trembling had ceased.

No, she was not cold. She was quite comfortable, and the answer came in vibrant tones which were as wine to a young man's heart.

"Are you tired, Frances?" and the "No" was accompanied by a little laugh, which spurred more questioning for no other purpose than to hear the music of her voice. Now, what was there in those replies to cause happiness? Why have inane answers to inane, timorous questions transformed earth into paradise and mortals into angels?

"Do you find the way very far--Frances?" The flavor of some names tempts repeated tasting.

"Very far?" came the response in an amused voice, "find it very far? Yes I do, quite far--oh! No--I don't. Oh! I don't know!" She broke into a joyous laugh at her own confusion, gaining more self-possession as I lost mine; and out she slipped from the plaid.

"I wish it were a thousand times farther," and I gazed ruefully at the folds that trailed empty.

What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell; but we were at the fort and I had to wrap the tartan disguise about myself.

Stooping, I picked a bunch of dog-roses growing by the path, then felt foolish, for I had not the courage to give them to her, and dropped them without her knowledge. She gave the pa.s.sword at the gate. I was taken for a Selkirk Highlander and we easily gained entrance.

A man brushed past us in the gloom of the courtyard. He looked impudently down into her face. It was Laplante, and my whole frame filled with a furious resentment which I had not guessed could be possible with me.

"That Frenchman," she whispered, but his figure vanished among the buildings. She showed me the council hall where Eric could be found.

"And where do you go?" I asked stupidly.

She indicated the quarters where the settlers had taken refuge. I led her to the door.

"Are you sure you'll be safe?"

"Oh! Yes, quite, as long as the settlers are here; and you, you will let me know when the priest sets out for Pembina?"

I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know.

"Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned.

"None," and she went up the first step of the doorway.

"Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step.

"Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have you forgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?"

"Why--so I did," I stammered out absently.

She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door.

"Stop! Frances--dear!" I cried.