Her face was quivering
with emotion; her whole being seemed concentrated on his words.
"M'sieur--Philip--did we seem--like that?" she asked, tremulously.
"Yes, or I would not have written the letter," replied Philip. He
leaned forward over the pack, and his face was close to Jeanne's.
"I had just passed over the place where men and women of a century
or two ago were buried, and when I saw you and Pierre I thought of
them; of Mademoiselle D'Arcon, who left a prince to follow her
lover to a grave back there at Churchill, and I wondered if
Grosellier--"
"Grosellier!" cried the girl.
She was breathing quickly, excitedly. Suddenly she drew back with
a little, nervous laugh.
"I am glad you thought of us like THAT," she added. "It was
Grosellier, le grand chevalier, who first lived at Fort o' God!"
Philip could no longer restrain himself. He forgot that the canoe
was lying motionless among the reeds and that they were to go
ashore. In a voice that trembled with his eagerness to be
understood, to win her confidence, he told her fully of what had
happened that night on the cliff. He repeated Pierre's
instructions to him, described his terrible fear for her, and in
it all withheld but one thing--the name of Lord Fitzhugh Lee.
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