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Thompson, Maurice, 1844-1901

"Alice of Old Vincennes"

Helm was slyly beating about to try
to make Hamilton lose sight of the danger from Clark's direction.
To do this he artfully magnified the insidious work that might be
done by the French and their Indian friends should they be driven
to desperation by oppressive or exasperating action on the part of
the English.
Hamilton felt the dangerous uncertainty upon which the situation
rested; but, like many another vigorously self-reliant man, he
could not subordinate his passions to the dictates of policy. When
Alice was conducted into his presence he instantly swelled with
anger. It was her father who had struck him and escaped, it was
she who had carried off the rebel flag at the moment of victory.
"Well, Miss, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" he
demanded with a supercilious air, bending a card between his thumb
and finger on the rude table.
She stood before him tall and straight, well bundled in furs. She
was not pale; her blood was too rich and brilliant for that; but
despite a half-smile and the inextinguishable dimples, there was a
touch of something appealingly pathetic in the lines of her mouth.
She did not waver or hesitate, however, but spoke promptly and
distinctly.
"I have come, Monsieur, to tell you that I have hurt Captain
Farnsworth. He was about to kill Father Beret, and I shot him.


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