"Calhoun is savagely disappointed," said the squire. "If Cabarreux had had the money, he would have allowed him to marry Isabel, he says. Now he means to send her North at once."
"Are you sure that this Boyer is alive?" said Grayson.
"Sam says so. He says he is going to bring the man up soon. Well, it's all up with poor Cabarreux. I'm sorry for them. Bel is a good girl: she ought to have been a happy wife."
The men went home to bed, leaving the major on the bench. He lay there for an hour or more. The village had gone to sleep for the night. Dense fogs wrapped the mountains that shut in the little hamlet, but overhead the stars were shining in the near heaven.
He rose at last. He was ghastly pale, as if the blood had ceased to flow in his body, but he stood up, drawing himself to his little height with a sudden triumph. "Damned if I don't do it! the time has come for the great deed!" He went with a swagger, as though he walked on air, down the street.
Two days later young Cabarreux, sauntering leisurely, as usual, across the square, met the squire and Sam Fetridge coming out of Grayson's office. Both men were greatly excited, but Sam was silent, while the squire talked volubly. He grasped Dave by the hand: "Cabarreux, I congratulate you! You are a lucky dog! I was just saying to Fetridge hyar, 'What is there that fellow hasn't got?'"
"What's the matter? what have I got?" said Cabarreux.
"The major here hes heerd about that fellow Boyer. He's dead."
"Is this true?" turning to Fetridge.
The major did not answer.