“That is more precious to me than cloth of gold would be,” I replied. “The flutter of it, as the Eagle headed for shore, seemed to tell me you were there. But, since March is too early, it must be the next month,” I said, firmly.
“Let it be so,” she responded, with a little sigh. “In April then; the month of tears and sunshine.”
“Let us hope that ours will all be sunshine,” I suggested.
“We have had enough of tears to make it so,” was her reply, as she smiled brightly.
That matter being settled we had much more to talk of, the day and many succeeding ones, seeming all too short for us. I was recovering slowly, and was able to be all about. I took an active charge of the military matters of the town, for my wound was healing, and I hoped in a short time that I would be nearly as strong as I was before. I took up my abode with the innkeeper, for Lucille said it was not seemly that we should dwell under the same roof longer. She, however, remained with Madame Carteret, weaving and spinning in preparation for the spring.
It was close to the first of April when news came one day that there was a ship down the bay, and that Captain Carteret had returned on her. This was a glad message for me, and I prepared to take a few of the men, marching down to meet him.
CHAPTER XXIX.
AN ORDER FROM THE KING.
I was half way on the road to the block house, to see if I could muster up a guard, with which to go down and meet the Captain, when I spied him coming along at a quick pace.
“Well-a-day,” he cried, when he had caught sight of me. “This is quite a change, since I last saw you. Come, man, your hand.
“Why,” he exclaimed, when I had gripped his palm, “you have some of your strength back again, I see--and feel.”