"I should like to believe you," she presently said, "but I cannot.
You English are all, all despicable, mean, vile!"
She was remembering the young officer who had assaulted her with
his sword in the house a while ago. And (what a strange thing the
human brain is!) she at the same time comforted herself with the
further thought that Beverley would never, never, be guilty of
rudeness to a woman.
"Some time you shall not say that," Farnsworth responded. "I asked
you to stop a moment that I might beg you to believe how
wretchedly sorry I am for what I am doing. But you cannot
understand me now. Are you really hurt, Miss Roussillon? I assure
you that it was purely accidental."
"My hurt is nothing," she said.
"I am very glad."
"Well, then, shall we go on to the fort?"
"You may go where you please, Mademoiselle."
She turned her back upon him and without an answering word walked
straight to the lantern that hung by the gate of the stockade,
where a sentinel tramped to and fro. A few moments later Captain
Farnsworth presented her to Hamilton, who had been called from his
bed when the news of the trouble at Roussillon place reached the
fort.
"So you've been raising hell again, have you, Miss?" he growled,
with an ugly frown darkening his face.
"I beg your pardon," said Farnsworth, "Miss Roussillon was not to
blame for--"
"In your eyes she'd not be to blame, sir, if she burned up the
fort and all of us in it," Hamilton gruffly interrupted.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278