"
"Never mind," replied O'Brien, "we will talk the matter over by-and-by,
but at present only oblige us by letting us remain in this little room;
we do not wish to be seen."
"_Comment done_!--you a conscript, and not wish to be seen! Are you,
then, intending to desert?"
"Answer me one question; you have read that letter, do you intend to act
up to its purport, as your sister requests?"
"As I hope for mercy I will, if I suffer everything. She is a dear
sister, and would not write so earnestly if she had not strong reason.
My house and everything you command are yours--can I say more?"
"But," continued O'Brien, "suppose I did intend to desert, would you
then assist me?"
"At my peril," replied the woman: "have you not assisted my family when
in difficulty?"
"Well, then, I will not at present detain you from your business; I have
heard you called several times. Let us have dinner when convenient, and
we will remain here."
"If I have any knowledge of phiz--_what d'ye call it_," observed
O'Brien, after she left us, "there is honesty in that woman, and I must
trust her, but not yet; we must wait till the conscripts have gone." I
agreed with O'Brien, and we remained talking until an hour afterwards,
when the woman brought us our dinner.
"What is your name?" inquired O'Brien.
"Louise Eustache; you might have read it on the letter."
"Are you married?"
"Oh yes, these six years. My husband is seldom at home; he is a Flushing
pilot. A hard life, harder even than that of a soldier.
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