"
"What manner of person is he?"
"As well as I may judge, he is young, tall, dark, and has the air of
being from foreign parts."
"Well, show him in. His presence will at least divert my mind from
sorrowful thoughts."
With a quick, firm tread, a young man entered the room and stood for a
moment silently regarding Laudonniere. The light from the fire was not
sufficient to disclose his features, and the other had no suspicion of
who he was. At the same time he felt strangely moved by the young
man's presence, and also remained silent, waiting for him to speak.
"Uncle."
The old man started at the word, and leaned eagerly forward.
"Uncle, dost thou not know thy Rene?"
"My Rene! Rene de Veaux? He is dead in the New World," cried
Laudonniere, trembling with excitement.
"No, my uncle! my father! thy Rene is not dead in the New World. He is
alive in the Old World, and has come to be thy comfort and support from
this time forth."
In all France there was not such a happy household as that modest
dwelling contained that night. Old Francois was called in to share the
joy of his master, and until daylight did the two old men sit and
listen with breathless interest to the strange history of him who had
come back to them as one risen from the grave. Every now and then they
rose to embrace him, and then resumed their seats, only to devour him
with their eyes and ply him with questions.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196