"With your permission, Monseigneur, I will now retire and ride slowly back along the river until you overtake me. I should like to have some time for solitary thought."
"You have my permission, Monsieur Abbé."
He bowed to Madame de Ferrier, and so moving to the door, he bowed again to me, and took his leave.
His horse's impatient start, and his remonstrance as he mounted, came plainly to our ears. The regular beat of hoofs upon the sward followed; then an alternating tap-tap of horse's feet diminished down the trail.
Eagle and I avoided looking at each other.
A bird inquired through the door with inquisitive chirp, and was away.
Volcanoes, and whirlwinds, fire, and all force, held themselves condensed and quiescent in the still room.
I moved first, laying Marie-Therese's message on the padlocked book. Standing with folded arms I faced Eagle, and she as stonily faced me. It was a stare of unspeakable love that counts a thousand years as a day.
She shuddered from head to foot. Thus a soul might ripple in passing from its body.
"I am not worth a kingdom!" her voice wailed through the room.