"I found them on the Wissahickon. Smell of them," she said as she set her bowl of fragrant trailing-arbutus before him, coloring a little, and adding: "Mother said I must not stay. We are glad thou art better."
"Oh, thank you, thank you," said the young man. The air of spring, the youth of the year, was in the room. As the door closed behind Margaret, Schmidt asked: "René, did you ever see the Quaker lady?—the flower, I mean."
"Yes, once. And now again. How she grows!"
"Yes, she does grow," said Schmidt. "I have noticed that at her age young women grow." While he spoke, Mr. Wynne came in, a grave, reserved, sturdy man, in whom some of the unemotional serenity of his Quaker ancestry became more notable as he went on into middle life.
Schmidt excused himself, and Wynne sat down, saying: "You seem quite yourself, Vicomte. I have heard the whole story from Captain Biddle. You have made one more friend, and a good one. You will be amused to learn that the French party is overjoyed because of your having victualed the starving Jacobins. The Federals are as well pleased, and all the ship-owners at the baffling of the corvette. No, don't speak; let me finish. The merchants at the coffee-house have voted both of you tankards, and five hundred dollars for the crew, and what the women will say or do the Lord knows. You will have need to keep your head cool among them all."
"Ah, Mr. Wynne, if my head was not turned by what you said to me when we parted, it is safe enough."
"My opinion has been fully justified; but now for business. Both ships are in. You have made an unlooked-for gain for me. Your share—oh, I shall take care of the captain, too—your share will be two thousand dollars. It is now in the bank with what is left of your deposit with me. I can take you again as my clerk or Stephen Girard will send you as supercargo to China. For the present I have said my say."
"I thank you, sir. It is too much, far too much. I shall go back to my work with you."
"And I shall be glad to have you. But I fear it may not be for life—as I should wish."
"No, Mr. Wynne. Some day this confusion in France must end, and then or before, though no Jacobin, I would be in the army."