"We'll thrash him, Colonel, never doubt it!" called another.
"If the Kaskaskians wish to help us—if they have found us true allies and kind friends, we promise them full recognition and reward with our regular soldiers," added Clark. "Wish any of you to enlist with us?"
"I! I! I!" came from a dozen throats, in chorus.
"Légère shall captain you, if as many as twenty-five enlist," added Clark. "Will you take down their names, Légère, and organize your company?" turning to that Frenchman, who accepted both the honor and the task with enthusiasm.
The commons now presented a lively and almost a cheerful scene; the men gathered in groups here and there, talking excitedly; drums were beating, and the villagers chattering and gesticulating. Suddenly, too, the western sun broke through environing mist and cloud, and poured over the scene a crimson glow, which might have been a word of promise spoken from Heaven, so much it cheered them.
"McElroy," said Clark in my ear, "I would like a word apart with you, please"; then as we walked off together: "It is time this rivalry between us were somehow put an end to; there are too few of us pledged to this dangerous enterprise to risk personal bitterness, especially among the officers, who should be in entire accord. You love your cousin, Ellen O'Neil, and so do I. You wish to marry her, so do I. Which one of us she prefers I defy angel, devil, or man to determine. But she must decide between us, and quickly. If it is you she loves, she must say so, and I will resign all claim, and cease to trouble either of you. If it is I, can you agree to do the same?"
"Yes," I answered a little reluctantly. "If she loves you, Colonel Clark, I promise to withdraw my suit. Only as her cousin and present guardian, I would have a right, I think, to exact one promise of you, and that is that you will forswear a single habit, and promise to settle down when this war is over. Can a man who loves adventure, as you do, resign it for the love of a woman—Colonel Clark—to say nothing of that other passion which sometimes overmasters you?"
Clark's face darkened and flushed, but with an effort he controlled himself. "As her kinsman, McElroy, you doubtless have a right to speak thus to me. You refer to my love for strong drink, and speak of my passion for adventure. The one I could easily resign for Ellen's sake; the other—'tis embedded in my nature, yet even adventure, methinks, might be well exchanged for the love of such a woman; for domestic joys with her to share them; for friends, home and children. Yes, McElroy, I can imagine myself a quiet, respectable, church-going citizen—and yet content."
"Then the decision rests with Ellen alone. Should she choose you, I promise to give my sanction to her choice. But I fear there is small hope for either of us. Have you not heard her say that she intends to take the veil, to be a nun?"
"Yes, but I have never believed that she meant it in her heart of hearts, though she has deceived herself into thinking she does, by telling herself that it is her holy duty."