"Don't you remember the bearer of the flag?"
"Oh!" was the only exclamation that Zulma uttered, while cheeks were fit to burst with the rush of conscious blood.
"Roderick has spoken to me of him in the highest terms of admiration," continued Pauline quietly.
"He will doubtless be flattered to hear of this," said Zulma, with just a touch of sarcasm in her tone.
But it was lost upon the gentle, unsuspicious Pauline, and Zulma, regretting the remark, immediately said:
"If you had met him on your passage, he would have treated you kindly, depend upon it," and she proceeded to relate the incident of the covered bridge. One detail brought on another, and the two friends, sat for two hours talking together, and much of the conversation turned on the American officer. What two young women can tell each other in the course of two hours is something stupendous, and he would be presumptuous, indeed, who would venture upon the enumeration of even the topics of converse. One thing, however, may be taken for granted—that when they were called to supper, they kissed each other with a smack and trotted down stairs in jolly good humor.
After supper the table was cleared, a large basin of maple syrup was produced, and after it was sufficiently boiled, the two friends began drawing the coils of taffy, with the assistance of Eugene, and under the eyes of Sieur Sarpy, who sat at the table sipping his wine and enjoying the amusement of the young people. Zulma's spirits had completely revived; and she was in high feather, enlivening the occasion by songs, and anecdote and banter, while she bustled around the table playing tricks upon her brother, and teasing the gentle Pauline. Now and then she would stop suddenly as if to listen, and her face would assume an expression of disappointed expectancy, but the shadow would disappear as rapidly as it came. Pauline was less boisterous and talkative. She was, however, in the pleasantest state of mind, as if for this one evening, at least, she had unburdened herself of the cares which had weighed her down during the past eventful days. Eugene, like all schoolboys escaped from the master's eye, was perfectly ridiculous in his wild gambols and inconsequential talk, but his nonsense gave zest to the merriment precisely because it was suggestive of that freedom with which the horrid front of war and the constant spectacle of armed men in the neighborhood afforded so sad a contrast.
An hour had been spent in this pastime, when Zulma again checked herself in the conversation, and as she turned her eyes to the window, they flashed with a ray of exultation. Her long waiting had not been in vain. The weary day would still have an agreeable ending. She was certain that she heard the music of sleigh bells, and she knew who it was that had come. A moment later, there was a rap at the door of the dining-room, and Cary Singleton stood on the threshold. Zulma went rapidly forward to meet him, receiving him with a cordiality and enthusiasm which she had never previously manifested. After the formal introduction was made, Cary excused himself for calling so late in the evening.
"Better late than never," exclaimed Zulma with an earnest indiscretion which she tried to turn off by a laugh, but which the rapid wandering of her great blue eyes showed that she was ashamed of.
Singleton bowed low, but there was no responsive smile upon his lip.