“Married!” the comical expression of dismay upon Mathilde’s face was a sight to see. She turned to Gerard. “Then say no more to me of a man’s constancy.”
“What I wish to know,” said Michelle, “is how it comes that you and M. Verplanck appear in company.”
“That is a coincidence. I returned upon the first ship which touched at Dominica upon her return voyage, and this happened to be the one of which M. Verplanck is half owner. It seems that he,”—he placed a kind hand upon the young man’s arm,—“our friend here, had taken the journey to Guadaloupa some months ago, hoping to find me there. He was misinformed; I was not at Guadaloupa but at Dominica, and there Pierre Boutillier found me by chance. M. Verplanck had taken the precaution to have inquiry made for me at each succeeding voyage, and when I took passage upon the very ship that had come in search of me, the good skipper, when he learned my name, was completely dumfounded. And when upon arriving in port, M. Verplanck was there to receive his ship, he received me also. Then, since our destination was the same, we came together. I had no idea that I was so important a person that I must be sought for by two strangers, but it seems I am of more value than I knew.” He looked with loving eyes at Alaine as he said this.
Papa Louis laughed softly. “It is not always ourselves for which we are valued, M. Hervieu, but for what we possess. I am of little account, but Mathilde has coddled me ever since that day when she came to nurse my wife.”
Mathilde gave him a gentle tap. “For shame, Papa Louis, you would imply that I did so because of Gerard.”
“And was not that it?”
Mathilde pouted. “He tells dreadful stories, that Papa Louis. Go on, M. Hervieu, we would hear more. No matter why you were sought, you are here and we are very glad. We wish next to hear of M. Verplanck’s adventures.”
But Michelle declared that that must wait till the morning, else Alaine would have no rest at all. “And she is not yet as strong as we would have her,” she said, solicitously.
It seemed to Alaine, in her little bed up under the eaves, that the night was all too short for her long thoughts. Till morning she lay wide awake, with such great joy and gladness tugging at her heart that once or twice she sat up and put out her hand to touch the wall of her room that she might be sure this was no dream. “Lendert! Father!” she whispered. “I am happy! I am happy! It is so wonderful, dear God, to be happy when I have been wretched for so long, so long.”
At dawn she arose and dressed quietly, then slipped softly down-stairs and out into the autumn morning. Michelle and Gerard were already astir, but she passed Michelle in her kitchen and Gerard in the garden and went on to the edge of the wood, where a golden finger of light was already touching the trees in their crimson. Before entering the well-remembered path she stopped. There were footsteps behind her. She turned to see that Lendert had followed her. He took her hand, and together they went on into the still forest and with one consent knelt there together.