An impulse sent her running away from the spot
where, it seemed to her, she had invited public derision. The
terrible noises all around her were, she now fancied, but the
jeering and hooting of rude men who had seen her unmaidenly
forwardness.
With a burning face she flew to the postern and slipped out, once
more taking the course which had become so familiar to her feet.
She did not slacken her speed until she reached the Bourcier
cabin, where she had made her home since the night when Hamilton's
pistol ball struck her. The little domicile was quite empty of its
household, but Alice entered and flung herself into a chair, where
she sat quivering and breathless when Adrienne, also much excited,
came in, preceded by a stream of patois that sparkled
continuously.
"The fort is blown up!" she cried, gesticulating in every
direction at once, her petite figure comically dilated with the
importance of her statement. "A hundred men are killed, and the
powder is on fire!"
She pounced into Alice's arms, still talking as fast as her tongue
could vibrate, changing from subject to subject without rhyme or
reason, her prattle making its way by skips and shies until what
was really upper-most in her sweet little heart disclosed itself.
"And, O Alice! Rene has not come yet!"
She plunged her dusky face between Alice's cheek and shoulder;
Alice hugged her sympathetically and said:
"But Rene will come, I know he will, dear.
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