Marie de Sabrevois leaned over the table, enveloping us in a wave of violet perfume from her laces. “Splendid!” she whispered, and there seemed to be admiration in her eyes. “Splendid! If you and your brother can go safely, it’s your duty to do so.” Again she glanced up at Nathaniel; and his eyes clung to her. “Perhaps I haven’t told you, but my uncle is returning to America in a few days. He will return safely: safely. If I thought otherwise, I wouldn’t let him go. If you should wish to go by his ship, he could arrange it easily, I’m sure. It would be a privilege for him to have the company of such pleasant gentlemen.”

Mr. Leonard bowed without speaking.

“What ship is that?” I asked. “What makes it safe?”

“A French ship,” she said quickly. “One of the French ships that carry French officers to America. They’re saying in Paris that Congress will commission any Frenchman who owns a sword and uniform—especially those with titles who can find nothing to do in France; so they’ve begun to hurry over, each one expecting to be placed in command of the entire American army. These gentlemen consider themselves too important to risk traveling by vessels that aren’t quite, quite safe.”

Never once, while Marie de Sabrevois was speaking, did Nathaniel take his eyes from her. When she had finished, he cleared his throat and said huskily: “Shall you go with your uncle?”

She looked up at him slowly, and as slowly looked away again—a glance that must, I was sure, have set the blood to pounding in his throat. “No,” she said. “No. I cannot go back yet. Not yet. I have property in France that must be settled. My poor father has died.” She sighed pathetically. “And so my uncle must return without me; for I have a ward—a little friend—a young girl, at school in—in Canada. It was this army of Burgoyne’s that changed all our plans. While I attend to my property here, my uncle must return to my little ward and take her to a safe place before soldiers lay waste the country.” She raised her eyes to Nathaniel’s again, a sweet and candid glance.

I had a thought that schools in Canada, for the most part, were convent schools, and that the little ward of which the lady spoke was, in all likelihood, a Papist. That being so, the lady herself might even be a Papist; and to me the thought of Nathaniel entangled with a Papist was repellent.