In the Irish Brigade: A Tale of War in Flanders and Spain

by G. A. Henty

This was indeed the case, and on the last three days of their journey to Pointdexter, he sat his horse for two or three hours. Philip had, on the last day, sent on one of his men to inform the baron that he would arrive that evening with Desmond, and as they were seen approaching, the baron and his daughter came out from the chateau, and welcomed them as they alighted.

"Do not upset the young fellow by appearing shocked at his appearance," the former had said to Anne. "It was certainly a blow, this morning, to hear that he had lost his left hand, and that the greater portion of the journey had had to be performed in a litter, so you must expect to find him greatly pulled down. But see, they are breaking into a trot, so he has evidently gained strength on the way."

In spite of the warning, the girl's eyes filled with tears as she saw Desmond's thin face and wasted figure, and his left arm in a sling.

"Welcome to Pointdexter, Monsieur Kennedy! Many have entered here, since the old chateau was built, but none who have rendered such vital service to our race. Do not try to speak. I see that you are shaken with your journey. We will soon put that all right."

"It has been a rather longer journey than we have previously made," Desmond said, after dismounting and shaking hands with the baron and his daughter, "and we rode somewhat faster than usual, as we were both of us anxious to be here. It was good, indeed, of Philip to make such a journey to find and bring me to you."

"If he had not done so, assuredly we should. My foot was so bad, with this villainous gout, that I could not put it in a stirrup, but we should have had out the family coach. I had half a mind to do so as it was, and Anne was most anxious to try her powers of nursing, but Philip overruled us, and said that he would be with you a week earlier than we could reach you in the coach, and that, moreover, he was sure the journey in an open horse litter would be far better for you than being jolted in a close carriage. So, as usual, he had his own way; though I must say that, for once, Anne rebelled strongly against his authority."

"You are all very good, Baron," Desmond said; "but, indeed, I think that Philip was right. I can assure you that the journey has done me an immense deal of good, and he will tell you that I am very different, now, from what I was when he found me at Amiens, for I had begun to think that I should never get away alive."

"Do not let us stay talking here," the baron said. "Anne has had some soup prepared for you, under her own eyes; and that, and a glass or two of good Burgundy, will do wonders for you."

Desmond, indeed, was greatly revived, and was able to join in a cheerful conversation with his hosts.

"We are both dying to hear your adventures," the baron said, "and how you managed to escape from that jail in England, as you did, and also how it was that we met with that dreadful disaster at Oudenarde. It really seems that those terrible fellows, Marlborough and Prince Eugene, are invincible."