'I know it.'
I will not repeat all I said; but, at last, silenced, if not convinced, by the power of this great love, I started with him out into the wild night to seek Jeannette. We went through the village and round the village and round the point, where the wind met us, and the waves broke at our feet with a roar. Passing the row of cabins, with their twinkling lights, we reached the home of Jeannette and knocked at the low door. The Indian mother opened it. I entered, without a word, and took a seat near the hearth, where a drift-wood fire was burning. Jeannette came forward with a surprised look. 'You little think what good fortune is coming to you, child,' I thought, as I noted her coarse dress and the poor furniture of the little room.
Rodney burst at once into his subject.
'Jeannette,' he said, going toward her, 'I have come to take you away with me. You need not go to school; I have given up that idea,—I accept you as you are. You shall have silk dresses and ribbons, like the ladies of the Mission-House this summer. You shall see all great cities, you shall hear beautiful music. You shall have everything you want,—money, bright shillings, as many as you wish. See! Mrs. Corlyne has come with me to show you that it is true. This morning we had orders to leave Mackinac; in a few days we must go. But—listen, Jeanette; I will marry you. You shall be my wife. Do not look so startled. I mean it; it is really true.'
'Qu'est-ce-que-c'est?' said the girl, bewildered by the rapid, eager words.
'Dr. Prescott wishes to marry you, child,' I explained, somewhat sadly, for never had the disparity between them seemed so great. The presence of the Indian mother, the common room, were like silent protests.
'Marry,' ejaculated Jeannette.
'Yes, love' said the surgeon, ardently. 'It is quite true; Father
Piret shall marry us. I will exchange into another regiment, or, if
necessary, I will resign. Do you understand what I am saying,
Jeannette? See! I give you my hand, in token that it is true.'
But, with a quick bound, the girl was across the room. 'What?' she cried. 'You think I marry you? Have you not heard of Baptiste? Know, then, that I love one finger of him more than all you, ten times, hundred times.'
'Baptiste?' repeated Rodney.