Radisson."
"Can you guess who that sailor-lad is, Rebecca?"
"It is not--no--it is not Jack?" she asks.
"Jack it is, Rebecca. That reminds me, Jack sent a message to you!"
"A message to me?"
"Yes--you know he's married--he married last year when he was in the
north."
"Married?" cries Rebecca, throwing up her hands and like to faint from
surprise. "Married in the north? Why--who--who married him, Ramsay?"
"A woman, of course!"
"But--" Rebecca was blushing furiously, "but--I mean--was there a
chaplain? Had you a preacher? And--and was not Mistress Hortense the
only woman----?"
"No--child--there were thousands of women--native women----"
"Squaws!" exclaims the prim little Puritan maid, with a red spot
burning on each cheek. "Do you mean that Jack Battle has married a
squaw?" and she rose indignantly.
"No--I mean a woman! Now, Rebecca, will you sit down till I tell you
all about it?"
"Sir," interjects the young gentleman of the cloth, "I protest there
are things that a maid ought not to hear!"
"Then, sir, have a care that you say none of them under cloak of
religion! _Honi soit qui mal y pense_! The mind that thinketh no evil
taketh no evil."
Then I turned to Rebecca, standing with a startled look in her eyes.
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