“Marguerite,” replied the stranger, “justified your opinion of sisterly duty. Mecumeh was conveyed to the fort—the arrow was withdrawn, and after a tedious illness, he recovered from the wound. There is too a tradition that the pious sister converted him to the catholic faith; but about this part of the story there seems to rest some uncertainty.”
“And don't you know, sir,” asked Edward, “what became of Louis afterwards?”
“I really do not,” replied the gentleman, smiling; “but I doubt not that the man kept the promise of the heroic boy; and I think it extremely probable that he has led some gallant fellows to those deeds of high emprise which were achieved by the armies of Louis fourteenth.”
“My dear children,” said Mrs. Sackville, “you must really ask no more questions. You will be good enough to pardon,” she added, turning to the stranger, “the eagerness of their youthful curiosity.”
“Oh, madam,” he replied, “the evidence of curiosity is the most grateful reward to a story-teller, and I feel that my acknowledgements are due to your children for their patient listening.”
A few more courteous words passed, and the stranger bowed and departed.
“This was a lucky meeting, mother,” said Edward; “this crazed leaning wall looks quite interesting to me now. I can almost fancy I see Marguerite and Louis issuing from the gate—Louis holding up the bow and arrow that was to do such memorable service that night.”
“You have had a good lesson this morning, my children, on the pleasures of association. When we first saw that ruin, it looked to you like any other stone wall—mere mason-work: and you, Julia, afraid of being buried in its shadow, wondered what interest any one could feel in looking at it; and now, I see you are venturing on the most tottering part of it for a piece of moss, which I suppose is to be carefully treasured in your herbal.”
“Yes, mama, as a keep-sake for Marguerite and Louis.”