Captain Castaigne found them like this when he appeared within the next few seconds.
He made no pretence of a greeting. Instead he frowned upon his one-time friend as severely as she might have upon him had their positions been reversed.
"It is not possible that you are in the woods in this snowstorm, Eugenie! Miss Meade told me that I should find you at the little farmhouse. Take my arm and we will return as quickly as possible."
With entire meekness Eugenia did as she was told. She did not even remember to be amused at this young Frenchman's amazing fashion of ordering her about. But she was surprised into speechlessness at his unexpected appearance.
"Only yesterday your mother assured us you were in northern France with your regiment," Eugenia murmured as she was being escorted along the path toward home. "She insisted that there was no possible prospect of your returning to this neighborhood in many months."
Captain Castaigne smiled. "Is that American frankness, Eugenie? We French people prefer to leave certain things to the imagination. Of course, I understand that you would never have come to the farmhouse had you dreamed of my being nearby. However, I am here for the purpose of seeing you. My mother did not intend to deceive you; I had not told her of my intention. But we will not talk of these things until we arrive at home. You are too weary to speak."
This was so manifestly true that Eugenia made no attempt at argument.
She was fatigued, and yet there was something else keeping her silent.
How splendidly well Captain Castaigne looked! His face was less boyish than she remembered it. But then she had not understood him at the beginning of their acquaintance. It had been stupid of her too, because no soldier receives the Cross of the Legion of Honor who has not put aside boyish things.