They had now entered the house, and, as the baron led the way into the sitting room, the girl rose from a fauteuil.
"This, Monsieur Kennedy, is my daughter, Mademoiselle Anne de Pointdexter. It is high time that you were formally presented to each other.
"This, Anne, is the officer who rendered you such invaluable service."
"We meet almost as strangers, mademoiselle," Desmond said, deeply bowing, "for I own that I saw so little of your face, the other night, that I should hardly have recognized you, had I met you elsewhere."
"I should certainly not have recognized you, Monsieur Kennedy. What with my own fright, and, I may say, the condition of your face, I had but a faint idea of what you were really like; but I certainly did not think that you were so young. You had such a masterful way with you, and seemed to know so perfectly what ought to be done, that I took you to be much older than you now look."
"I joined the regiment but little more than three months ago," Desmond said, "and am its youngest ensign."
"Monsieur, I owe to you more than my life, for, had it not been for you, I should have been forced into marriage with one whom I despise."
"I cannot think that, mademoiselle. From what I saw of you, I should say that you would have resisted all threats, and even undergone hopeless imprisonment, rather than yield."
"There is no saying, Monsieur Kennedy," the baron said. "Anne is of good blood, and I know that it would have been hard to break down her will, but confinement and hopelessness will tell on the bravest spirit. However that may be, she and I are your debtors for life."
"Indeed, Monsieur Kennedy," the girl said, "I pray you to believe that I am more grateful to you than words can express."