o his.
"We will not have any settlements or any dower. We will be married in
this new American way. Everything I have left from this flood will be
yours and the children's, anyhow. But while there is game in the woods,
or bacon in the cellar, or flour in the bin, or wine to be tapped, or a
cup of milk left, not a child or woman or man shall go hungry. I was not
unprepared for this. My fur storehouse there on the bank of the Okaw is
empty. At the first rumor of high water I had the skins carried to the
strong-house on the hill."
Angelique's wet hair still clung to her forehead, but her warmth had
returned with a glow. The colonel was a compact man, who had passed
through water as his own element. To be dripping was no hindrance to his
courtship.
"When may we celebrate the marriage?"
"Is it a time to speak of marriage when two are lying dead in the
house?"
His countenance changed at the rebuke, and, as all fortunate people do
when they have passed the selfish fury of youth, he apologized for
success.
"It is true. And Reece Zhone was the only man in the Territory whom I
feared as a rival. As soon as he is laid low I forget him. He would not
so soon forget me. Yet I do not forget him. The whole Illinois Territory
will remember him. But Reece Zhone himself would not blame me, when I am
bringing you home to my house, for hinting that I hope to keep you
there."
"To keep me there, monsieur the colonel! No, I am not to be married in a
hurry."
"But I made my proposals months ago, Angelique. The children and I have
long had our secrets about bringing you home. Two of them sit on my knee
and two of them climb my back, and we talk it over. They will not let
you leave the house alive, mademoiselle. Father Olivier will still
celebrate the sacraments among us. Kaskaskia will have the consolations
of religion for this flood; but I may not have the consolation of
knowing my own wedding-day."
"The church is now half full of water."
"Must I first bail out the church?"
"I draw the line there, monsieur the colonel. You are a prevailing man.
You will doubtless wind me around your thumb as you do the Indians. But
when I am married, I will be married in church, and sign the register in
the old way. What, monsieur, do you think the water will never go down?"
"It will go down, yes, and the common fields will be the better for it.
But it is hard a man should have to watch a rivergauge to find out the
date of his own we
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