The terrible noises all around her were, she now fancied, but the jeering and hooting of rude men who had seen her unmaidenly forwardness.
With a burning face she flew to the postern and slipped out, once more taking the course which had become so familiar to her feet.

She did not slacken her speed until she reached the Bourcier cabin, where she had made her home since the night when Hamilton's pistol ball struck her.
The little domicile was quite empty of its household, but Alice entered and flung herself into a chair, where she sat quivering and breathless when Adrienne, also much excited, came in, preceded by a stream of patois that sparkled continuously.
"The fort is blown up!" she cried, gesticulating in every direction at once, her petite figure comically dilated with the importance of her statement.

"A hundred men are killed, and the powder is on fire!" She pounced into Alice's arms, still talking as fast as her tongue could vibrate, changing from subject to subject without rhyme or reason, her prattle making its way by skips and shies until what was really upper-most in her sweet little heart disclosed itself.
"And, O Alice! Rene has not come yet!" She plunged her dusky face between Alice's cheek and shoulder; Alice hugged her sympathetically and said: "But Rene will come, I know he will, dear." "Oh, but do you know it?
is it true?
who told you?
when will he come?
where is he?
tell me about him!" Her head popped up from her friend's neck and she smiled brilliantly through the tears that were still sparkling on her long black lashes.
"I didn't mean that I had heard from him, and I don't know where he is; but--but they always come back." "You say that because your man--because Lieutenant Beverley has returned.

It is always so.

You have everything to make you happy, while I--I--" Again her eyes spilled their shower, and she hid her face in her hands which Alice tried in vain to remove.
"Don't cry, Adrienne.