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Updated: June 26, 2025
They hammered the cross deep into the mud between Sir Thorald and little Alixe. Later still Jack returned with a spade and worked for an hour, shaping the twin mounds. Before he finished he saw Lorraine climbing the hill.
He thought, too, of the old Vicomte de Morteyn and his gentle wife, of the little house-party of which he and his sister Dorothy made two, of Sir Thorald and Lady Hesketh, their youthful and totally irresponsible chaperons on the journey from Paris to Morteyn. "They're lunching on the Lisse," he thought. "I'll not get a bite if Ricky is there."
Sir Thorald lay dead on the hillock above the river Lisse; Alixe slept beside him; Rickerl was somewhere in the country, riding with his Uhlan scourges; Molly Hesketh waited in Paris for her dead husband; the Marquis de Nesville's bones were lying in the forest where he now sat, watching the sleeping child of the dead man. His child? Jack looked at her tenderly.
"He'll do anything you tell him, Miss, and do it well; but then he'll sit and dream about it I can't leave him at all. But he'll take the clothes if I give him a paper with directions, and come right back." Poor Mrs. Thorald wiped her eyes, and went on with her swift ironing. Diantha offered her the position of laundress at Union House, with two rooms for their own, over the laundry.
Oh, Jack, darling! can't you understand? Your loving sister, DOROTHY." "Understand? What?" repeated Jack. He read the letter again carefully. "I can't see what the mischief is extraordinary in that," he mused, "unless she's giving me a tip about Sir Thorald; but no she can't know anything in that direction. Now what is it that she has hidden away? Oh, here's a postscript."
Already two such trenches had been filled and covered over with dirt; and at the head of each soldier's grave a bayonet or sabre was driven into the ground for a head-stone. Early that morning, while the rain drove into the ground in one sheeted downpour, they buried Sir Thorald and little Alixe, side by side, on the summit of a mound overlooking the river Lisse.
"What, you horrid thing? afraid he'd bite me?" "Afraid you'd bite the wolf, my dear," he whispered so that nobody but she heard it; "I say, Ricky, we ought to have a wolf drive! What do you think?" The subject started, all chimed in with enthusiasm except Alixe von Elster, who sat with big, soulful eyes fixed on Sir Thorald and trembled for that bad young man's precious skin.
"I," said Cecil, "am going to drive Betty in the dog-cart." "She'll probably take the reins," said Sir Thorald, cynically. Cecil brandished his whip and looked determined; but it was Betty who drove him to Saint-Lys station, after all. The adieux were said, even more tearfully this time. Jack kissed his sister tenderly, and she wept a little on his shoulder thinking of Rickerl.
She is buying hers back with tears and blood with the white cross on her heart and death in her eyes! And I am dying here and she's to drag out the years afterwards " He choked; Jack watched him quietly. Sir Thorald turned his head to him when the coughing ceased. "She went with a field ambulance; I went, too. I was shot below that vineyard. They told her; that is all. Am I dying?"
It's too late for rooks," said Sir Thorald, pouring out champagne-cup for Barbara Lisle. "I don't know where Jack went," said Dorothy. "He heard one of the keepers complain of the hawks, so, I suppose, he took a gun. I wonder why that strange Lorraine de Nesville doesn't come to call. I am simply dying to see her." "I saw her once," observed Sir Thorald. "You generally do," added his wife.
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