“Will you not be seated? You may release the bell-rope, on my word, without danger. I would rather die than harm you. Indeed, my greatest ambition is to devote my life to your service.”
“Fine words, Monsieur, and such as I have often heard from other cavaliers.”
“I doubt it not, Mademoiselle. Such beauty of person and grace of mind as yours cannot remain unchallenged. This shall be my excuse.”
“No more of this, if you please, but of yourself.” It was ineffable condescension, and you may imagine how I appreciated the honor.
“My name is Francis Burnham. My family on the distaff side is French—Huguenot. The blood, I believe, is noble. My great-grandfather was an English gentleman. My father met my mother in North Carolina. The acreage my father owns is equal to a French county.”
“You are an American, then?”
“I have that honor. I am also an officer in the American Navy. My country is ill provided with warships. Many naval officers have been forced to accept positions in privateers. I was a lieutenant in Captain Gustavus Cunningham’s privateer ship, the Revenge. We were captured by a British frigate and taken to a British prison-ship. I escaped thence and was on my way to Paris, to see Dr. Franklin, when I had the good fortune to be of some slight service to you. That gold piece you gave me, I have it here.” I saw her hand involuntarily move to her breast and my heart leaped as it assured me that she also had retained and cherished the coin I had forced upon her. “I have loved you ever since I saw you that day, Mademoiselle. I have sought you in vain only to find you tonight.”
“That, Monsieur,” she said quietly, “does not yet explain your presence here.”
I was dumb again.
“How did you discover my abode?”