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Updated: June 24, 2025
He could not see that the time had come to tell Fenneben what Bond Saxon had confided to him about the man below the smoke. So he left the hilltop and went down to the Saxon House. He wanted to see Dennie, but found her father instead. "That woman's left Pigeon Place again," Saxon said. "Went early this morning. It's freedom for me when I don't have to think of them two.
"Elinor has all these without working for them," Vincent thought. Then for no reason at all his mind leaped to Dennie's father and his own vow on the stormy night in October. "What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?" he asked. "I've always had to depend on myself somewhat. I would keep on, I suppose." Dennie looked up bravely. Her father was her joy and her shame.
"Of course of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet you, Mr. Copplestone you don't know me, but I know you or your work well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr. Dennie, laying his packet on the table, "but I have acted for a great many years as Bassett Oliver's literary adviser taster, you might say.
She bent over him and softly caressed his hand. "Where is that woman now? Dennie Saxon asked me once to do something for her in her loneliness. She got ahead of my negligence and did something for me, it seems." "She left Lagonda Ledge the very day they rushed us up here to the hospital. Is n't she strange? And she is so gentle and sweet, but so sad.
You could n't help me, nor harm him. You'll trust me in this?" A picture of Dennie down in the Kickapoo Corral, with the flickering firelight on her rippling hair, the weird, shadowy woodland, and the old Indian legend all came back to the young man now, though why he could not say. "I certainly would never bring harm to you nor yours," he said kindly. "I can't inform on the scoundrel.
The Kickapoo Corral, luxuriant with flowers, and springing grass, and May green foliage, told nothing of the old-time siege and sorrow of Swift Elk and the Fawn of the Morning Light. On the night after the storm Professor Burgess stopped at the Saxon House. "Where is your father, Dennie?" he asked. "He went up north to help somebody out of the mud and water, I suppose," Dennie replied.
During such occasions he kept to the river side of the town. Sober, he was good-natured and obliging; drunken, he was sullen, with a disposition to skulk out of sight and be alone. His daughter Dennie had her father's good-nature combined with a will power all her own. As Dr. Fenneben watched her about her work this morning, he noted how comfortably she took hold of it.
We had of them some ten or eleven tons of beer for the Victory; but it acted as a severe purge upon all who drank it, so that we chose rather to drink water. Having provided ourselves with fresh water, we set sail from thence on the 20th December, accompanied by Sir Edward Dennie and his lady, with two young sons.
As they interrupted the workmen on the fortifications, Colonel Dennie sallied out of the gates soon after midday on the 1st of December, with 300 men from each regiment, to disperse them. The Afghans fired a volley and fled the troops followed.
Dennie sat and exchanged views with him on the curious situation. Half-an-hour went by; then steps and voices were heard in the hall and the garden; Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were seeing their visitor out to his car. In a few minutes the car sped away, and they came back to the parlour. One glance at their faces showed Gilling that some new development had cropped up and he nudged Copplestone.
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