Louis arose, his honest face red with shame. "I did not want to hurt you," he said, speaking with difficulty. "When I came here tonight and you both thought it was just to thank you before I set sail for France, I was ashamed to tell you the reason of my visit. For I am like the others; I would not have come to thank you for favors past; not knowing of your misfortune, I only came to ask new bounties; that is why I am ashamed."
"Then why do you tell me now?" Salomon's voice had grown very tired. "I should have liked to believe that you were not here for favors."
"I could not go away and have you believe a lie. You are too honest a man to lie to, Mr. Salomon. Are you sorry I told the truth?"
"No. That takes the pain away." A long silence while the January wind howled outside. At last Haym spoke. "What did you wish of me—though now I may be unable to grant it."
"I leave shortly for France," answered the young man, flushed beneath the other's quiet gaze. "Although I return a poor man, my betrothed has waited for me and I desired to buy a bit of land for my own that we might become householders as our parents were before us. I knew you would trust me and that is why I came to you, my one friend in America."
"Now I am truly sorry for my losses," answered Salomon. "If I could only help you—but, perhaps, Mr. Morris—yes, I will give you a note to him, and though I am not prosperous today, he will be willing to trust me as your security."
But Louis di Vernon shook his head. "I cannot think of it," he answered, stubbornly. "Do not insist, or I shall be sorry that I told you of my desires. Please have this visit as it should have been; to thank you for your great kindness to me; not to ask more favors."
"As you will," answered Haym with a smile. "But you must not leave us without a little token for your betrothed." Going to the mantel piece, he took down a silver cup, quaintly carved, and slipped it into the young man's unwilling hand. "Nay, lad, take it, it is all I can give you—this and my blessing for your future." Again the wind shook the window pane. "It is a bitter night outside. We have no guest chamber, but if you care to sleep beside our fire——"
"Nay, after Valley Forge a soldier is not afraid of the storm," laughed the Frenchman. "And I cannot thank you for this—and all your kindness. But she is a woman and when I tell my Mairie, she will write you all the love and gratitude that is in our hearts." He bent over Mistress Salomon's hand with all the courtly breeding of his race. "It is only Au revoir tonight, Madame, for I will try to see you again before I leave Philadelphia."
He gathered his cloak about him and went out into the storm, leaving Salomon to meet his wife's reproachful eyes. "Yes, I know, heart's dearest, that I should not give silver cups to beggarly Frenchmen," he told her with a whimsical smile, "for who knows when we will have to pawn the little that remains of our silver. But until then—" he shrugged goodnaturedly, and a fit of coughing drowned the rest.