“It seems so,” was my reply. “How do you like the name?”
“It has a wholesome sound,” she answered, repeating it over and over again. “But Edward was not so poor a one. It did much for me.”
“So will Sir Francis, sweetheart,” I said.
“However, since the King has given it back to you, I suppose you will keep it?”
“I will, indeed. It is a proud name, and many brave men and fair women have been known by it.”
It was getting late when we ceased talking, though we had said scarce half of what was in our minds.
A week passed. There were but seven days more ere we would be wed. The block house had been fixed on as the place where the brief ceremony might fittingly be held. We had decided to make it a merry gathering, where all who would, might come and be happy.
The weather was now that of a mild early spring. The tender green of the trees and shrubs, made the land a mass of verdure. Gardens were being made, farms plowed, sheep let out to pasture, and the colonists all around were busy. The town was prospering under the hand of Providence. All that remained to bring to mind the late Indian uprising were the ruins of a burned dwelling here and there. Back on the hillside was a sadder recollection; a few rough stones to mark the graves of those who had fallen in the great battle. To me there remained the scars on my arm and side, where Simon’s knife had entered, and the furrow of a bullet across one cheek.
I would that some other pen could set down what is to follow. For, though I can tell poorly enough, perhaps, concerning battles, sieges and fighting, with which I am somewhat familiar, it is hard to tell of scenes of baking, stewing, cooking and sewing, which now seemed to centre about me. Verily it appeared, that last week, as if I might as well bid my sword farewell, to take up a bodkin or a ladle in its place, so little use did I seem to have for the weapon.
Every time I went to Captain Carteret’s house, to have a few minutes with Lucille, I found her busy with either a stew-pan or a needle. From a maid, that had been wont to pay some small heed to what I said, she had come, almost, to hold me in as little importance as any man in the Colony. She would leave me in a moment, no matter what we were talking of, if Madame Carteret, or one of the women, called her.