off early, I do suppose. And oh, it will be a weary time
while thou art away!"

"I shall be gone by six in the morning."

"And I sound asleep," she returned, smiling. He left her at the roadside
with Nanny, and, mounting, rode away.

XXIV

The widow allowed no one to care for Schmidt's library except her
daughter or herself. It contained little of value except books, but even
those Indian arrow-heads he found on Tinicum Island and the strange
bones from near Valley Forge were dusted with care and regarded with the
more curiosity because, even to the German, they spoke no language the
world as yet could read.

As she turned from her task and Margaret entered, she saw in her face
the signal of something to be told. It needed not the words, "Oh,
mother," as she closed the door behind her--"oh, mother, I am afraid I
have done a wrong thing; but I met Rene de Courval,--I mean, he met
me,--and--and he asked me to marry him--and I will; no one shall stop
me." There was a note of anticipative defiance in the young voice as she
spoke.

"Sit down, dear child."

The girl sunk on a cushion at her feet, her head in the mother's lap. "I
could not help it," she murmured, sobbing.

"I saw this would come to thee, long ago," said the mother. "I had hoped
thou wouldst be so guided as not to let thy heart get the better of thy
head."

"It is my head has got me into this--this sweet trouble. Thou knowest
that I have had others, and some who had thy favor; but, mother, here
for two years I have lived day by day in the house with Rene, and have
seen him so living as to win esteem and honor, a tender son to his
mother, and so respectful to thee, who, for her, art only the keeper of
a boarding-house. Thou knowest what Friend Schmidt says of him. I heard
him tell Friend Hamilton. He said--he said he was a gallant gentleman,
and he wished he were his son. You see, mother, it was first respect and
then--love. Oh, mother, that duel! I knew as I saw him carried in that I
loved him." She spoke rapidly, with little breaks in her voice, and now
was silent.

"It is bad, very bad, my child. I see no end of trouble--oh, it is bad,
bad, for thee and for him!"

"It is good, good, mother, for me and for him. He has waited long. There
has been something, I do not know what, kept him from speaking sooner.
It is over now."

"I do not see what there could have been, unless it were his mother. It
may well be that. Does she know?"

"Wh