"
Helm genially assented; but they were delayed for some time by an
officer who came in to consult with Hamilton on some pressing
Indian affairs. When they reached Roussillon place they met
Beverley coming out; but he did not look at them. He was scarcely
aware of them. A little way outside the gate, on going in, he had
picked up Alice's locket and broken chain, which he mechanically
put into his pocket. It was all like a dream to him, and yet he
had a clear purpose. He was going away from Vincennes, or at least
he would try, and woe be to Hamilton on his coming back. It was so
easy for an excited young mind to plan great things and to expect
success under apparently impossible conditions. Beverley gave Jean
a note for Alice; it was this that took him to Roussillon place;
and no sooner fell the night than he shouldered a gun furnished
him by Madame Godere, and guided by the woodsman's fine craft,
stole away southward, thinking to swim the icy Wabash some miles
below, and then strike across the plains of Illinois to Kaskaskia.
It was a desperate undertaking; but in those days desperate
undertakings were rather the rule than the exception. Moreover,
love was the leader and Beverley the blind follower. Nothing could
daunt him or turn him back, until he found an army to lead against
Hamilton. It seems but a romantic burst of indignation, as we look
back at it, hopelessly foolish, with no possible end but death in
the wilderness.
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