126CHAPTER XWE ATTAIN THE OTTAWA
It was not yet dawn when the stir in the camp aroused me, and the sun had not risen above the bluffs, or begun to tinge the river, when our laden canoes left the bank and commenced their day’s journey up stream. De Artigny was off in advance, departing indeed before I had left the tent, the chief seated beside him. I caught but a glimpse of them as the canoe rounded the bend in the bank, and slipped silently away through the lingering shadows, yet it gladdened me to know his eyes were turned toward my tent until they vanished.
Cassion approached me with excessive politeness, waiting until the last moment, and escorting me to the shore. It made me smile to observe his pretense at gallantry, yet I accepted his assistance down the bank with all possible graciousness, speaking to him so pleasantly as to bring a look of surprise to his face. ’Twas plain to be seen that my conduct puzzled him, for although he sought to appear at ease, his words faltered sadly. He, who had so long considered himself as past master of the art of love-making had most unexpectedly127encountered a character which he could not comprehend.
However, that his purpose was in no way changed was made evident as we took our places in the canoes. A new distribution had been arranged, Chevet accompanying the sergeant, leaving the Commissaire and me alone, except for thepère, who had position in the bow. I observed this new arrangement from underneath lowered lashes, but without comment, quietly taking the place assigned me, and shading my face from the first rays of the sun.
The day which followed was but one of many we were destined to pass in the canoes. I have small recollection of it, except the weariness of my cramped position, and Cassion’s efforts to entertain. Our course kept us close to the north shore, the high banks cutting off all view in that direction, while in the other there was nothing to see but an expanse of water.
Except for a single canoe, laden with furs, and propelled by Indian paddlers, bound for Quebec and a market, we encountered no travelers. These swept past us swiftly in grip of the current, gesticulating, and exchanging salutations, and were soon out of sight. Our own boats scattered, as no danger held us together, and there were hours when we failed to have even a glimpse of their presence.
At noon we landed in a sheltered cove, brilliant with128wild flowers, and partook of food, the rearward canoes joining us, but De Artigny was still ahead, perhaps under orders to keep away. To escape Cassion, I clambered up the front of the cliff, and had view from the summit, marking the sweep of the river for many a league, a scene of wild beauty never to be forgotten. I lingered there at the edge until the voice of the Commissaire recalled me to my place in the canoe.
It is of no consequence now what we conversed about during that long afternoon, as we pushed steadily on against the current. Cassion endeavored to be entertaining and I made every effort to encourage him, although my secret thoughts were not pleasant ones. Where was all this to lead? Where was to be the end? There was an expression in the man’s face, a glow in his eyes, which troubled me. Already some instinct told me that his carelessness was a thing of the past. He was in earnest now, his vague desire stimulated by my antagonism.
He had set out to overcome my scruples, to conquer my will, and was merely biding his time, seeking to learn the best point of attack. It was with this end in view that he kept me to himself, banishing Chevet, and compelling De Artigny to remain well in advance. He was testing me now by his tales of Quebec, his boasting of friendship with the Governor, his stories of army adventure, and the wealth he expected to amass129through his official connections. Yet the very tone he assumed, the conceit shown in his narratives, only served to add to my dislike. This creature was my husband, yet I shrank from him, and once, when he dared to touch my hand, I drew it away as though it were contamination. It was then that hot anger leaped into his eyes, and his true nature found expression before he could restrain the words:
“Mon Dieu!What do you mean, you chit?”
“Only that I am not won by a few soft words, Monsieur,” I answered coldly.
“But you are my wife; ’twill be well for you to remember that.”
“Nor am I likely to forget, yet because a priest has mumbled words over us does not make me love you.”
“Sacre!” he burst forth, yet careful to keep his voice pitched to my ears alone, “you think me a plaything, but you shall learn yet that I have claws. Bah! do you imagine I fear the coxcomb ahead?”
“To whom do you refer, Monsieur?”
“Such innocence! to that boot-licker of La Salle’s to whom you give your smiles, and pretty words.”
“Rene de Artigny!” I exclaimed pleasantly, and then laughed. “Why how ridiculous you are, Monsieur. Better be jealous of Père Allouez yonder, for of him I see far the most. Why do you pick out De Artigny on whom to vent your anger?”
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“I like not the way he eyes you, nor your secret meetings with him in Quebec.”
“If he even sees me I know it not, and as for secret meetings, knew you not that Sister Celeste was with me while we talked.”
“Not in the Governor’s palace.”
“You accuse me of that then,” indignantly. “Because I am your wife, you can insult, yet it was your hand that drew aside the curtain, and found me alone. Do you hope to gain my respect by such base charges as that, Monsieur?”
“Do you deny that he had been with you?”
“I? Do I deny! It is not worthy my while. Why should I? We were not married then, nor like to be to my knowledge. Why, then, if I wished, was it not my privilege to speak with the Sieur de Artigny? I have found him a very pleasant, and polite young man.”
“A pauper, his only fortune the sword at his side.”
“Ah, I knew not even that he possessed one. Yet of what interest can all this be to me, Monsieur, now that I am married to you?”
That my words brought him no comfort was plain enough to be seen, yet I doubt if it ever occurred to his mind that I simply made sport, and sought to anger him. It was on his mind to say more, yet he choked the words back, and sat there in moody silence, scarce glancing at me again during the long afternoon. But131when we finally made landing for the night, it was plain to be seen that his vigilance was in no wise relaxed, for, although he avoided me himself, the watchful Jesuit was ever at my side, no doubt in obedience to his orders. This second camp, as I recall, was on the shore of Lake St. Peter, in a noble grove, the broad stretch of waters before us silvered by the sinking sun. My tent was pitched on a high knoll, and the scene outspread beneath was one of marvelous beauty. Even the austere père was moved to admiration, as he pointed here and there, and conversed with me in his soft voice. Cassion kept to the men along the bank below, while Chevet lay motionless beside a fire, smoking steadily.
I had no glimpse of De Artigny, although my eyes sought him among the others. The chief, Altudah, glided out from among the trees as it grew dusk, made some report, and as quickly disappeared again, leaving me to believe the advance party had made camp beyond the curve of the shore. The priest lingered, and we had our meal together, although it was not altogether to my liking. Once he endeavored to talk with me on the sacredness of marriage, the duty of a wife’s obedience to her husband, the stock phrases rolling glibly from his tongue, but my answers gave him small comfort. That he had been so instructed by Cassion was in my mind, and he was sufficiently adroit to avoid antagonizing me by pressing the matter. As we were132eating, a party of fur traders, bound east, came ashore in a small fleet of canoes, and joined the men below, building their fires slightly up stream. At last Père Allouez left me alone, and descended to them, eager to learn the news from Montreal. Yet, although seemingly I was now left alone, I had no thought of adventuring in the darkness, as I felt convinced the watchful priest would never have deserted my side had he not known that other eyes were keeping vigil.
From that moment I never felt myself alone or unobserved. Cassion in person did not make himself obnoxious, except that I was always seated beside him in the boat, subject to his conversation, and attentions. Ever I had the feeling the man was testing me, and venturing how far he dared to go. Not for a moment did I dare to lower my guard in his presence, and this constant strain of watchfulness left me nervous, and bitter of speech.
In every respect I was a prisoner, and made to realize my helplessness. I know not what Cassion suspected, what scraps of information he may have gained from Chevet, but he watched me like a hawk. Never, I am sure, was I free of surveillance––in the boat under his own eye; ashore accompanied everywhere by Père Allouez, except as I slept, and then even some unknown sentry kept watch of the tent in which I rested. However it was managed I know not, but my133uncle never approached me alone, and only twice did I gain glimpse of Sieur de Artigny––once, when his canoe returned to warn us of dangerous water ahead, and once when he awaited us beside the landing at Montreal. Yet even these occasions yielded me new courage, for, as our eyes met I knew he was still my friend, waiting, as I was, the opportunity for a better understanding. This knowledge brought tears of gratitude to my eyes, and a thrill of hope to my heart. I was no longer utterly alone.
We were three days at Montreal, the men busily engaged in adding to their store of provisions. I had scarcely a glimpse of the town, as I was given lodging in the convent close to the river bank, and thepèrewas my constant companion during hours of daylight. I doubt if he enjoyed the task any more than I, but he proved faithful to his master, and I could never venture to move without his black robe at my side.
Nor did I seek to avoid him, for my mind grasped the fact already that my only hope of final liberty lay in causing Cassion to believe I had quietly yielded to fate. Surely as we plunged deeper into the wilderness his suspicions would vanish, and his grim surveillance relax. I must patiently abide my time. So I sat with the sisters within the dull, gray walls, seemingly unconscious of thepère’seyes stealthily watching my every motion, as he pretended other employment.
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Cassion came twice, more to assure himself that I was safely held than for any other purpose, yet it pleased me to see his eyes follow my movements, and to realize the man had deeper interest in me than formerly. Chevet, no doubt, spent his time in the wine shops; at least I never either saw, or heard of him. Indeed I asked nothing as to his whereabouts, as I had decided already his assistance would be of no value.
We departed at dawn, and the sun was scarce an hour high when the prows of our canoes turned into the Ottawa. Now we were indeed in the wilderness, fronting the vast unknown country of the West, with every league of travel leaving behind all trace of civilization. There was nothing before us save a few scattered missions, presided over by ragged priests, and an occasional fur trader’s station, the headquarters of wanderingcouriers du bois. On every side were the vast prairies, and stormy lakes, roamed over by savage men and beasts through whom we must make our way in hardship, danger, and toil.
Cassion spread out his rude map in the bottom of the canoe, and I had him point out the route we were to follow. It was a long, weary way he indicated, and, for the moment, my heart almost failed me, as we traced together the distance outlined, and pictured in imagination the many obstacles between us and our goal. Had I known the truth, all those leagues were135destined to disclose of hardship and peril, I doubt my courage to have fronted them. But I did not know, nor could I perceive a way of escape. So I crushed back the tears dimming my eyes, smiled into his face, as he rolled up the map, and pretended to care not at all.
When night came we were in the black woods, the silence about us almost unearthly, broken only by the dash of water over the rocks below where we were camped, promising a difficult portage on the morrow. Alone, oppressed by the silence, feeling my helplessness as perhaps I never had before, and the dread loneliness of the vast wilderness in which I lay, I tossed on my bed for hours, ere sheer exhaustion conquered, and I slept.
136CHAPTER XII GAIN SPEECH WITH DE ARTIGNY
Our progress up the Ottawa was so slow, so toilsome, the days such a routine of labor and hardship, the scenes along the shore so similar, that I lost all conception of time. Except for the Jesuit I had scarcely a companion, and there were days, I am sure, when we did not so much as exchange a word.
The men had no rest from labor, even Cassion changing from boat to boat as necessity arose, urging them to renewed efforts. The water was low, the rapids more than usually dangerous, so that we were compelled to portage more often than usual. Once the leading canoe ventured to shoot a rapid not considered perilous, and had a great hole torn in its prow by a sharp rock. The men got ashore, saving the wreck, but lost their store of provisions, and we were a day there making the damaged canoe again serviceable.
This delay gave me my only glimpse of De Artigny, still dripping from his involuntary bath, and so busily engaged at repairs, as to be scarcely conscious of my presence on the bank above him. Yet I can hardly say that, for once he glanced up, and our eyes met, and137possibly he would have joined me, but for the sudden appearance of Cassion, who swore at the delay, and ordered me back to where the tent had been hastily erected. I noticed De Artigny straighten up, angered that Cassion dared speak to me so harshly, but I had no wish then to precipitate an open quarrel between the two men, and so departed quickly. Later, Father Allouez told me that in the overturning of the canoe the young Sieur had saved the life of the Algonquin Chief, bringing him ashore unconscious, helpless from a broken shoulder.
This accident to Altudah led to the transferring of the injured Indian to our canoe, and caused Cassion to join De Artigny in advance. This change relieved me of the constant presence of the Commissaire, who wearied me with his ceaseless efforts to entertain, but rendered more difficult than ever my desire to speak privately with the younger man. Thepèreevidently had commands to keep me ever in view, for he clung to me like a shadow, and scarcely for a moment did I feel myself alone, or unwatched.
It was five days later, and in the heart of all that was desolate and drear, when this long sought opportunity came in most unexpected fashion. We had made camp early, because of rough water ahead, the passage of which it was not deemed best to attempt without careful exploration. So, while the three138heavily laden canoes drew up against the bank, and prepared to spend the night, the leading canoe was stripped, and sent forward, manned only with the most expert of the Indian paddlers to make sure the perils of the current. From the low bank to which I had climbed I watched the preparations for the dash through those madly churning waters above. Cassion was issuing his orders loudly, but exhibited no inclination to accompany the party, and suddenly the frail craft shot out from the shore, with De Artigny at the steering paddle, and every Indian braced for his task, and headed boldly into the smother. They vanished as though swallowed by the mist, Cassion, and a half dozen soldiers racing along the shore line in an effort to keep abreast of the laboring craft.
It was a wild, desolate spot in which we were, a mere rift in the bluffs, which seemed to overhang us, covered with a heavy growth of forest. The sun was still an hour high, although it was twilight already beside the river, when Cassion, and his men came straggling back, to report that the canoe had made safe passage, and, taking advantage of his good humor, I proposed a climb up an opening of the bluff, down which led a deer trail plainly discernible.
“Not I,” he said, casting a glance upward. “The run over the rocks will do me for exercise tonight.”
“Then will I assay it alone,” I replied, not displeased139at his refusal. “I am cramped from sitting in the canoe so long.”
“’Twill be a hard climb, and they tell me thepèrehas strained a tendon of his leg coming ashore.”
“And what of that!” I burst forth, giving vent to my indignation. “Am I a ten-year-old to be guarded every step I take? ’Tis not far to the summit, and no danger. You can see yourself the trail is not steep. Faith! I will go now, just to show that I am at liberty.”
He laughed, an unpleasant sound to it, yet made no effort to halt me. ’Tis probable he felt safe enough with De Artigny camped above the rapids, and he had learned already that my temper might become dangerous. Yet he stood and watched while I was half-way up before turning away, satisfied no doubt that I would make it safely. It was like a draught of wine to me to be alone again; I cannot describe the sense of freedom, and relief I felt when a spur of the cliff shut out all view of the scene below.
The rude path I followed was narrow, but not steep enough to prove wearisome, and, as it led up through a crevice in the earth, finally emerged at the top of the bluff at a considerable distance above the camp I had left. Thick woods covered the crest, although there were open plains beyond, and I was obliged to advance to the very edge in order to gain glimpse of the river.
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Once there, however, with footing secure on a flat rock, the scene outspread was one of wild and fascinating beauty. Directly below me were the rapids, rock strewn, the white spray leaping high in air, the swift, green water swirling past in tremendous volume. It scarcely seemed as though boats could live in that smother, or find passage between those jutting rocks, yet as I gazed more closely, I could trace the channel close in against the opposite shore, and note where the swift current bore back across the river.
Leaning far out, grasping a branch to keep from falling, I distinguished the canoe at the upper landing, and the Indians busily preparing camp. At first I saw nothing of any white man, but was gazing still when De Artigny emerged from some shadow, and stepped down beside the boat. I know not what instinct prompted him to turn and look up intently at the bluff towering above. I scarcely comprehended either what swift impulse led me to undo the neckerchief at my throat, and hold it forth in signal. An instant he stared upward, shading his eyes with one hand.
I must have seemed a vision clinging there against the sky, yet all at once the truth burst upon him, and, with a wave of the arm, he sprang up the low bank, and joined his Indians. I could not hear what he said, but with a single word he left them, and disappeared among the trees at the foot of the bluff.
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I drew back, almost frightened, half inclined to flee before he could attain the summit. What could I say? How could I meet him? What if Cassion had followed me up the path, or had despatched one of his men to spy upon my movements? Ever since leaving Quebec my one hope had been this interview with De Artigny, yet now that it was imminent I shrank from it, in actual confusion, my heart fluttering, my mind blank, yet I was not a coward, and did not run, but waited, feeling my limbs tremble under me, and listening for the first sound of his approach.
He must have scrambled straight up the steep face of the bluff, for it could have been scarcely more than a minute, when I heard him crunching a passage through the bushes, and then saw him emerge above the edge. Clinging to a tree limb, his eyes sought eagerly to locate me, and when I stepped forward, he sprang erect, and bowed, jerking his hat from his head. There was about his action the enthusiasm of a boy, and his face glowed with an eagerness and delight which instantly broke down every barrier between us.
“You waved to me?” he exclaimed. “You wished me to come?”
“Yes,” I confessed, swept from my guard by his enthusiasm. “I have been anxious to confer with you, and this is my first opportunity.”
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“Why I thought you avoided me,” he burst forth. “It is because I felt so that I have kept away.”
“There was nothing else I could do but pretend,” I exclaimed, gaining control over my voice as I spoke. “My every movement has been watched since we left Quebec; this is the first moment I have been left alone––if, indeed, I am now.” And I glanced about doubtfully into the shadows of the forest.
“You imagine you may have been followed here? By whom? Cassion?”
“By himself, or some emissary. Père Allouez has been my jailor, but chances to be disabled at present. The Commissaire permitted me to climb here alone, believing you to be safely camped above the rapids, yet his suspicions may easily revive.”
“His suspicions!” the Sieur laughed softly. “So that then is the trouble? It is to keep us apart that he bids me make separate camp each night; and assigns me to every post of peril. I feel the honor, Mademoiselle, yet why am I especially singled out for so great a distinction?”
“He suspects us of being friends. He knew I conferred with you at the convent, and even believes that you were with me hidden behind the curtain in the Governor’s office.”
“Yet if all that be true,” he questioned, his voice evidencing his surprise. “Why should our friendship143arouse his antagonism to such an extent? I cannot understand what crime I have committed, Mademoiselle. It is all mystery, even why you should be here with us on this long journey? Surely you had no such thought when we parted last?”
“You do not know what has occurred?” I asked, in astonishment. “No one has told you?”
“Told me! How? I have scarcely held speech with anyone but the Algonquin chief since we took to the water. Cassion has but given orders, and Chevet is mum as an oyster. I endeavored to find you in Montreal, but you were safely locked behind gray walls. That something was wrong I felt convinced, yet what it might be no one would tell me. I tried questioning thepère, but he only shook his head, and left me unanswered. Tell me then, Mademoiselle, by what right does this Cassion hold you as a captive?”
My lips trembled, and my eyes fell, yet I must answer.
“He is my husband, Monsieur.”
I caught glimpse of his face, picturing surprise, incredulity. He drew a sharp breath, and I noted his hand close tightly on the hilt of his knife.
“Your husband! that cur! Surely you do not jest?”
“Would that I did,” I exclaimed, losing all control in sudden wave of anger. “No, Monsieur, it is true;144but listen. I supposed you knew; that you had been told. It is hard for me to explain, yet I must make it all plain for you to understand. I do not love the man, his very presence maddens me, nor has the creature dared as yet to lay hand on my person. See; I carry this,” and I drew the pistol from my dress, and held it in my hand. “Chevet loaned it me, and Cassion knows I would kill him if he ventured insult. Yet that serves me little, for my opposition only renders the man more determined. At Quebec I was but a plaything, but now he holds me worth the winning.”
“But why did you marry him, then?”
“I am coming to that, Monsieur. You overheard what was said in La Barre’s office about––about my father’s property?”
“Ay! although it was not all clear to me. Captain la Chesnayne had lost his estates, confiscated by the Crown; yet before his death these had been restored to him by the King.”
“Yes, but the report of the restoration had never been made to his rightful heirs. The papers had been held back and concealed, while those in authority planned how to retain possession. Cassion was chosen as an instrument, and sought my hand in marriage.”
De Artigny smothered an oath, his eyes darkening with anger.
“It was to further this scheme that he induced145Chevet to announce our engagement, and drive me to consent. Once my husband the fortune was securely in his hands––indeed, I need never know its existence; nor would Chevet suspicion the trick. Yet, as I see it now, La Barre had no great faith in the man he had chosen, and thought best to test him first by this journey to St. Louis. If he proved himself, then on his return, he was to have the reward of official position and wealth. I was but a pawn in the game, a plaything for their pleasure.”
My voice broke, and I could scarcely see through the tears in my eyes, but I felt his strong hand close over mine, the warm pressure an unspoken pledge.
“The dogs! and then what happened?”
“You know, already. I was discovered behind the curtain, when you escaped through the open window. They were not certain I was not alone there, as I claimed, but compelled me to confess what I had overheard. La Barre was quick to grasp the danger of discovery, and the only method by which my lips could be closed. By threat he compelled me to marry Francois Cassion, and accompany him on this journey into the wilderness.”
“The ceremony was performed by a priest?”
“By Père le Guard, the Governor’s chaplain.”
“And Hugo Chevet, your uncle? Did he remain silent? make no protest?”
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I gave a gesture of despair.
“He! Never did he even conceive what occurred, until I told him later on the river. Even now I doubt if his sluggish brain has grasped the truth. To him the alliance was an honor, an opening to possible wealth in the fur trade through Cassion’s influence with La Barre. He could perceive nothing else except his good luck in thus ridding himself of the care of a poor niece who had been a sorry burden.”
“But you explained to him?”
“I tried to, but only to regret the effort. Giant as he is physically, his intellect is that of a big boy. All he can conceive of is revenge––a desire to crush with his hands. He hates Cassion, because the man has robbed him of the use of my father’s money; but for my position he cares nothing. To his mind the wrong has all been done to him, and I fear he will brood over it until he seeks revenge. If he does he will ruin everything.”
De Artigny stood silent, evidently in thought, endeavoring to grasp the threads of my tale.
“How did you attain the summit of this bluff?” he questioned at last.
“Yonder; there is a deer trail leading down.”
“And you fear Cassion may follow?”
“He will likely become suspicious if I am long absent, and either seek me himself, or send one of his147men. This is the first moment of freedom I have experienced since we left Quebec. I hardly know how to behave myself.”
“And we must guard it from being the last,” he exclaimed, a note of determination, and leadership in his voice. “There are questions I must ask, so that we may work together in harmony, but Cassion can never be allowed to suspect that we have communication. Let us go forward to the end of the trail where you came up; from there we can keep watch below.”
He still grasped my hand, and I had no thought of withdrawing it. To me he was a friend, loyal, trustworthy, the one alone to whom I could confide. Together we clambered over the rough rocks to where the narrow cleft led downward.
148CHAPTER XIION THE SUMMIT OF THE BLUFF
Securely screened from observation by the low growing bushes clinging to the edge of the bluff, and yet with a clear view of the cleft in the rocks half way to the river, De Artigny found me a seat on a hummock of grass, but remained standing himself. The sun was sinking low, warning us that our time was short, for with the first coming of twilight I would certainly be sought, if I failed to return to the lower camp.
For a moment he did not break the silence, and I glanced up, wondering why he should hesitate. His face was grave, no longer appearing, as was its wont, young and careless, but marked by thought and perplexity. Something strong and earnest in the character of the man, brought forth by this emergency, seemed to stamp itself on his features. If I had ever before imagined him to be a mere reckless youth, with that moment such conception vanished, and I knew I was to rely on the experience of a man––a man trained in a rough wilderness school, yet with mind and heart149fitted to meet any emergency. The knowledge brought me boldness.
“You would question me, Monsieur,” I asked doubtfully. “It was for that you led me here?”
“Yes,” instantly aroused by my voice, but with eyes still scanning the trail. “And there is no time to waste, if I am to do my part intelligently. You must return below before the sun disappears, or Monsieur Cassion might suspect you had lost your way. You have sought me for assistance, counsel perhaps, but this state of affairs has so taken me by surprise that I do not think clearly. You have a plan?”
“Scarcely that, Monsieur. I would ascertain the truth, and my only means of doing so is through a confession by Francois Cassion.”
“And he is too cold-blooded a villain to ever acknowledge guilt. To my mind the methods of Chevet would be most likely to bring result.”
“But not to mine, Monsieur,” I interrupted earnestly. “The man is not so cold-blooded as you imagine. Arrogant he is, and conceited, deeming himself admired, and envied by all, especially my sex. He has even dared boast to me of his victims. But therein lies his very weakness; I would make him love me.”
He turned now, and looked searchingly into my face, no glimpse of a smile in the gray eyes.
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“Pardon; I do not understand,” he said gravely. “You seek his love?”
I felt his manner a rebuke, a questioning of my honesty, and swift indignation brought the answering words to my lips.
“And why not pray! Must I not defend myself––and what other weapons are at hand? Do I owe him kindness; or tender consideration? The man married me as he would buy a slave.”
“You may be justified,” he admitted regretfully. “Yet how is this to be done?”
I arose to my feet, and stood before him, my face uplifted, and, with one hand, thrust aside the shade of my hat.
“Monsieur, deem you that impossible?”
His lips parted in a quick smile, revealing the white teeth, and he bowed low, flinging his hat to the ground, and standing bareheaded.
“Mon Dieu! No! Monsieur Cassion is to be congratulated. Yet it was my thought you said yonder that you despised the man.”
“I do; what reason have I to feel otherwise? Yet there lies my strength in this battle. He laughs at women, plays with them, breaks their hearts. It is his pride and boast, and his success in the past has ministered to his self conceit. He thought me of the same kind, but has already had his lesson. Do you151not know what that means to a man like him? More than ever he will desire my favor. A week back, he cared nothing; I was but a plaything, awaiting his pleasure; his wife to be treated as he pleased. He knows better now, and already his eyes follow me as though he were my dog.”
“And that then is why you send for me––that I may play my part in the game?”
I shrugged my shoulders, yet there was doubt in my eyes as I faced him.
“Is there harm in such play, Monsieur,” I asked innocently, “with so important an end in view? ’Tis not that I seek amusement, but I must find out where this King’s pardon is hidden, who concealed it, and obtain proof of the fraud which compelled my marriage. My only hope of release lies in compelling Francois Cassion to confess all he knows of this foul conspiracy. I must possess the facts before we return to Quebec.”
“But of what use?” he insisted. “You will still remain his wife, and your property will be in his control. The church will hold you to the marriage contract.”
“Not if I can establish the truth that I was deceived, defrauded, and married by force. Once I have the proofs in my hands, I will appeal to Louis––to the Pope for relief. These men thought me a helpless girl, friendless and alone, ignorant of law, a mere waif of152the frontier. Perhaps I was, but this experience has made of me a woman. In Montreal I talked with the Mother Superior, and she told me of a marriage in France where thepèreofficiated under threat, and the Pope dissolved the ties. If it can be done for others, it shall be done for me. I will not remain the wife of Francois Cassion.”
“Yet you would make him love you?”
“In punishment for his sins; in payment for those he has ruined. Ay! ’tis a duty I shall not shrink from, Monsieur de Artigny, even although you may deem it unwomanly. I do not mean it so, nor hold myself immodest for the effort. Why should I? I but war against him with his own weapons, and my cause is just. And I shall win, whether or not you give me your aid. How can I fail, Monsieur? I am young, and not ill to look upon; this you have already confessed; here in this wilderness I am alone, the only woman. He holds me his wife by law, and yet knows he must still win me. There are months of loneliness before us, and he will not look upon the face of another white woman in all those leagues. Are there any French of my sex at Fort St. Louis?”
“No.”
“Nor at St. Ignace, Père Allouez assures me. I shall have no rival then in all this wilderness; you think me harmless, Monsieur? Look at me, and say!”
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“I do not need to look; you will have your game, I have no doubt, although the final result may not prove what you desire.”
“You fear the end?”
“It may be so; you play with fire, and although I know little of women, yet I have felt the wild passions of men in lands where there is no restraint of law. The wilderness sees many tragedies––fierce, bitter, revengeful deeds––and ’tis best you use care. ’Tis my belief this Francois Cassion might prove a devil, once his heart was tricked. Have you thought of this?”
I had thought of it, but with no mercy in my heart, yet as De Artigny spoke I felt the ugliness of my threat more acutely, and, for an instant, stood before him white-lipped, and ashamed. Then before me arose Cassion’s face, sarcastic, supercilious, hateful, and I laughed in scorn of the warning.
“Thought of it!” I exclaimed, “yes, but for that I care nothing. Why should I, Monsieur? Has the man shown mercy to me, that I should feel regret because he suffers? As to his revenge, death is not more to be dreaded than a lifetime passed in his presence. But why do you make plea on his behalf––the man is surely no friend of yours?”
“I make no plea for him,” he answered, strangely sober, “and claim no friendship. Any enemy to La Salle is an enemy to Rene de Artigny; but I would154front him as a man should. It is not my nature to do a deed of treachery.”
“You hold this treachery?”
“What else? You propose luring him to love you, that you may gain confession from his lips. To attain this end you barter your honesty, your womanhood; you take advantage of your beauty to enslave him; you count as ally the loneliness of the wilderness; ay! and, if I understand aright, you hope through me to awaken the man’s jealousy. Is this not true?”
I drew a quick breath, my eyes staring into his face, and my limbs trembling. His words cut me like a knife, yet I would not yield, would not even acknowledge their truth.
“You are unjust, unfair,” I burst forth impetuously. “You will see but the one side––that of the man. I cannot fight this battle with my hands, nor will I submit to such wrong without struggle. He has never thought to spare me, and there is no reason why I should show him mercy. I wish your good will, Monsieur, your respect, but I cannot hold this plan which I propose as evil. Do you?”
He hesitated, looking at me with such perplexity in his eyes as to prove his doubt.
“I cannot judge you,” he admitted at last, “only that is not the way in which I have been trained. Neither will I stand between you and your revenge,155nor have part in it. I am your friend––now, always. In every honorable way I will serve you, and your cause. If Cassion dares violence, or insult he must reckon with me, though I faced his whole company. I pledge you this, but I will not play a part, or act a lie even at your request.”
“You mean you will not pretend to care for me?” I asked, my heart leaden at his words.
“There would be no pretense,” he answered frankly. “I do care for you, but I will not dishonor my thought of you by thus deliberately scheming to outwit your husband. I am a man of the woods, the wilderness; not since I was a boy have I dwelt in civilization, but in all that time I have been companion of men to whom honor was everything. I have been comrade with Sieur de la Salle, with Henri de Tonty, and cannot be guilty of an act of treachery even for your sake. Perchance my code is not the same as the perfumed gallants of Quebec––yet it is mine, and learned in a hard school.”
He went on quietly, “there are two things I cannot ignore––one is, that I am an employee of this Francois Cassion, pledged to his service by my own free will; the other is, that you are his wife, joined to him by Holy Church, and although you may have assumed those vows under coercion, your promise is binding. I can but choose my path of duty, and abide therein.”
156
His words hurt, angered me; I lacked power of expression, ability to grasp his full meaning and purpose.
“You––you desert me then? You––you leave me to this fate?”
“I leave you to reconsider your choice of action,” he returned gravely, his hat still in hand, his lips unsmiling. “I do believe your womanhood will find a better way to achieve its liberty, but what that way is I must trust you to discover. I am your friend, Adele, always––you will believe that?”
I did not answer; I could not, because of the choking in my throat, yet I let him grasp my hand. Once I raised my eyes to his, but lowered them instantly in strange confusion. Here was a man I did not understand, whose real motives I could not fathom. His protest had not yet penetrated my soul, and I felt toward him, an odd mixture of respect and anger. He released my hand, and turned away, and I stood motionless as he crossed the open space between the trees. At the edge of the bluff he paused and glanced about, lifting his hat in gesture of farewell. I do not think I moved, or made response, and an instant later he was gone.
I know not how long I stood there staring into vacancy, haunted by regret, tortured by fear and humiliation. Slowly all else crystallized into indignation,157with a fierce resolve to fight on alone. The sun sank, and all about me clung the purple twilight, yet I did not move. He had been unjust, unfair; his simple code of the woods could not be made to apply to such a situation as this of mine.
I had a right to use the weapons of womanhood in my own defense. Ay! and I would; and whether voluntary, or not this spotless knight of the wilderness should be my ally. Let him pretend to high virtue, yet surely under that outer armor of resolve there beat the heart of a man. He meant all he said; he was honest in it; not once did I doubt that, yet his apparent indifference, his seeming willingness to leave me to fate, and Cassion, was all assumed.
That one glimpse I had into his eyes told me this in a sudden revelation stronger than any words. I smiled at the recollection, the sense of power reawakening in my heart. He did care––no less than I cared, and this knowledge gave me the weapon I needed, and the courage to use it.
I heard no sound of warning, yet as I turned to retrace my way to the camp below, I became suddenly aware of the presence of Cassion.