321
“He has dropped a remark, or two, which shows suspicion. Possibly some one of the men saw me outside the Mission House, and made report.”
“Then he will call you as witness. If I know the nature of Cassion his plan of trial is a mere form, although doubtless he will ask the presence of Captain de Baugis, and M. de la Durantaye. Neither will oppose him, so long as he furnishes the proof necessary to convict. He will give his evidence, and call the Indian, and perchance a soldier or two, who will swear to whatever he wishes. If needed he may bring you in also to strengthen the case. De Artigny will make no defense, because he has no witnesses, and because he has a fool notion that he might compromise you by telling the whole truth.”
“Then there is no hope? nothing we can do?”
“No, Madame; not now. I shall not be consulted, nor asked to be present. I am under strict order from La Salle not to oppose La Barre’s officers, and, even if I were disposed to disobey my chief, I possess no force with which to act. I have but ten men on whom I could rely, while they number over forty.” He leaned closer, whispering, “Our policy is to wait, and act after the prisoner has been condemned.”
“How? You mean a rescue?”
“Ay, there lies the only hope. There is one man here who can turn the trick. He is De Artigny’s comrade322and friend. Already he has outlined a plan to me, but I gave no encouragement. Yet, now, that I know the truth, I shall not oppose. Have you courage, Madame, to give him your assistance? ’Tis like to be a desperate venture.”
I drew a deep breath, but with no sense of fear.
“Yes, Monsieur. Who is the man I am to trust?”
“Francois de Boisrondet, the one who led the rescue party last night.”
“A gallant lad.”
“Ay, a gentleman of France, a daring heart. Tonight––”
The door opened, and the figure of a man stood outlined against the brighter glow without. De Tonty was on his feet fronting the newcomer, ere I even realized it was Cassion who stood there, glaring at us. Behind him two soldiers waited in the sunshine.
“What is the meaning of this, M. de Tonty?” he exclaimed, with no pretense at friendliness. “A rather early morning call, regarding which I was not even consulted. Have husbands no rights in this wilderness paradise?”
“Such rights as they uphold,” returned the Italian, erect and motionless. “I am always at your service, M. Cassion. Madame and I have conversed without permission. If that be crime I answer for it now, or when you will.”
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It was in Cassion’s heart to strike. I read the desire in his eyes, in the swift clutch at his sword hilt; but the sarcastic smile on De Tonty’s thin lips robbed him of courage.
“’Tis best you curb your tongue,” he snarled, “or I will have you in the guardhouse with De Artigny. I command now.”
“So I hear. Doubtless you could convict me as easily.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only that your whole case is a tissue of lies.”
“Pah! you have her word for it, no doubt. But you will all sing a different song presently. Ay, and it will be her testimony which will hang the villain.”
“What is this you say, Monsieur––my testimony?”
“Just that––the tale of what you saw in the Mission garden at St. Ignace.Sacre, that shot hits, does it! You thought me asleep, and with no knowledge of your escapade, but I had other eyes open that night, my lady. Now will you confess the truth?”
“I shall conceal nothing, Monsieur.”
“’Twill be best that you make no attempt,” he sneered, his old braggart spirit reasserting itself as De Tonty kept silent. “I have guard here to escort you to the Commandant’s office.”
“You do me honor.” I turned to De Tonty. “Shall I go, Monsieur?”
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“I think it best, Madame,” he replied soberly, his dark eyes contemptuously surveying Cassion. “To refuse would only strengthen the case against the prisoner. M. Cassion will not, I am sure, deny me the privilege of accompanying you. Permit me to offer my arm.”
I did not glance toward Cassion, but felt no doubt as to the look on his face; yet he would think twice before laying hand on this stern soldier who had offered me protection. The guard at the door fell aside promptly, and permitted us to pass. Some order was spoken, in a low tone, and they fell in behind with rifles at trail. Once in the open I became, for the first time, aware of irregular rifle firing, and observed in surprise, men posted upon a narrow staging along the side of the log stockade.
“Is the fort being attacked?” I asked.
“There has been firing for some days,” he answered, “but no real attack. The savages merely hide yonder amid the rocks and woods, and strive to keep us from venturing down the trail. Twice we have made sortie, and driven them away, but ’tis a useless waste of fighting.” He called to a man posted above the gate. “How is it this morning, Jules?”
The soldier glanced about cautiously, keeping his head below cover.
“Thick as flies out there, Monsieur,” he answered,325“and with a marksman or two among them. Not ten minutes since Bowain got a ball in his head.”
“And no orders to clear the devils out?”
“No, Monsieur––only to watch that they do not form for a rush.”
The Commandant’s office was built against the last stockade––a log hut no more pretentious than the others. A sentry stood at each side of the closed door, but De Tonty ignored them, and ushered me into the room. It was not large, and was already well filled, a table littered with papers occupying the central space, De Baugis and De la Durantaye seated beside it, while numerous other figures were standing pressed against the walls. I recognized the familiar faces of several of our party, but before I recovered from my first embarrassment De Baugis arose, and with much politeness offered me a chair.
De Tonty remained beside me, his hand resting on my chair back, as he coolly surveyed the scene. Cassion pushed past, and occupied a vacant chair, between the other officers, laying his sword on the table. My eyes swept about the circle of faces seeking De Artigny, but he was not present. But for a slight shuffling of feet, the silence was oppressive. Cassion’s unpleasant voice broke the stillness.
“M. de Tonty, there is a chair yonder reserved for your use.”
326
“I prefer remaining beside Madame Cassion,” he answered calmly. “It would seem she has few friends in this company.”
“We are all her friends,” broke in De Baugis, his face flushing, “but we are here to do justice, and avenge a foul crime. ’Tis told us that madame possesses certain knowledge which has not been revealed. Other witnesses have testified, and we would now listen to her word. Sergeant of the guard, bring in the prisoner.”
He entered by way of the rear door, manacled, and with an armed soldier on either side. Coatless and bareheaded, he stood erect in the place assigned him, and as his eyes swept the faces, his stern look changed to a smile as his glance met mine. My eyes were still upon him, seeking eagerly for some message of guidance, when Cassion spoke.
“M. de Baugis will question the witness.”
“The court will pardon me,” said De Artigny. “The witness to be heard is Madame?”
“Certainly; what means your interruption?”
“To spare the lady unnecessary embarrassment. She is my friend, and, no doubt, may find it difficult to testify against me. I merely venture to ask her to give this court the exact truth.”
“Your words are impertinent.”
“No, M. de Baugis,” I broke in, understanding all327that was meant. “Sieur de Artigny has spoken in kindness, and has my thanks. I am ready now to bear witness frankly.”
Cassion leaned over whispering, but De Baugis merely frowned, and shook his head, his eyes on my face. I felt the friendly touch of M. de Tonty’s hand on my shoulder, and the slight pressure brought me courage.
“What is it you desire me to tell, Monsieur?”
“The story of your midnight visit to the Mission garden at St. Ignace, the night Hugo Chevet was killed. Tell it in your own words, Madame.”
As I began my voice trembled, and I was obliged to grip the arms of the chair to keep myself firm. There was a mist before my eyes, and I saw only De Artigny’s face, as he leaned forward eagerly listening. Not even he realized all I had witnessed that night, and yet I must tell the truth––the whole truth, even though the telling cost his life. The words came faster, and my nerves ceased to throb. I read sympathy in De Baugis’ eyes, and addressed him alone. Twice he asked me questions, in so kindly a manner as to win instant reply, and once he checked Cassion when he attempted to interrupt, his voice stern with authority. I told the story simply, plainly, with no attempt at equivocation, and when I ceased speaking the room was as silent as a tomb. De Baugis sat motionless, but328Cassion stared at me across the table, his face dark with passion.
“Wait,” he cried as though thinking me about to rise. “There are questions yet.”
“Monsieur,” said De Baugis coldly. “If there are questions it is my place to ask them.”
“Ay,” angrily beating his hand on the board, “but it is plain to be seen the woman has bewitched you. No, I will not be denied; I am Commandant here, and with force enough behind me to make my will law. Scowl if you will, but here is La Barre’s commission, and I dare you ignore it. So answer me, Madame––you saw De Artigny bend over the body of Chevet––was your uncle then dead?”
“I know not, Monsieur; but there was no movement.”
“Why did you make no report?––was it to shield De Artigny?”
I hesitated, yet the answer had to be made.
“The Sieur de Artigny was my friend, Monsieur. I did not believe him guilty, yet my evidence would have cast suspicion upon him. I felt it best to remain still, and wait.”
“You suspected another?”
“Not then, Monsieur, but since.”
Cassion sat silent, not overly pleased with my reply, but De Baugis smiled grimly.
329
“By my faith,” he said, “the tale gathers interest. You have grown to suspicion another since, Madame––dare you name the man?”
My eyes sought the face of De Tonty, and he nodded gravely.
“It can do no harm, Madame,” he muttered softly. “Put the paper in De Baugis’ hand.”
I drew it, crumpled, from out the bosom of my dress, rose to my feet, and held it forth to the Captain of Dragoons. He grasped it wonderingly.
“What is this, Madame?”
“One page from a letter of instruction. Read it, Monsieur; you will recognize the handwriting.”
330CHAPTER XXIXCONDEMNED
He opened the paper gravely, shadowing the page with one hand so that Cassion was prevented from seeing the words. He read slowly, a frown on his face.
“’Tis the writing of Governor La Barre, although unsigned,” he said at last.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“How came the page in your possession?”
“I removed it last night from a leather bag found beneath the sleeping bunk in the quarters assigned me.”
“Do you know whose bag it was?”
“Certainly; it was in the canoe with me all the way from Quebec––M. Cassion’s.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
De Baugis’ eyes seemed to darken as he gazed at me; then his glance fell upon Cassion, who was leaning forward, his mouth open, his face ashen gray. He straightened up as he met De Baugis’ eyes, and gave vent to an irritating laugh.
“Sacre, ’tis quite melodramatic,” he exclaimed331harshly. “But of little value else. I acknowledge the letter, M. de Baugis, but it bears no relation to this affair. Perchance it was unhappily worded, so that this woman, eager to save her lover from punishment––”
De Tonty was on his feet, his sword half drawn.
“’Tis a foul lie,” he thundered hotly. “I will not stand silent before such words.”
“Messieurs,” and De Baugis struck the table. “This is a court, not a mess room. Be seated, M. de Tonty; no one in my presence will be permitted to besmirch the honor of Captain la Chesnayne’s daughter. Yet I must agree with Major Cassion that this letter in no way proves that he resorted to violence, or was even urged to do so. The governor in all probability suggested other means. I could not be led to believe he countenanced the commission of crime, and shall ask to read the remainder of his letter before rendering decision. You found no other documents, Madame?”
“None bearing on this case.”
“The papers supposed to be taken from the dead body of Chevet?”
“No, Monsieur.”
“Then I cannot see that the status of the prisoner is changed, or that we have any reason to charge the crime to another. You are excused, Madame, while we listen to such other witnesses as may be called.”
332
“You wish me to retire?”
“I would prefer you do so.”
I arose to my feet, hesitating and uncertain. It was evident enough that the court intended to convict the prisoner. All the hatred and dislike engendered by years of controversy with La Salle, all the quarrels and misunderstandings of the past few months between the two rival commanders at the fort, was now finding natural outlet in this trial of Rene de Artigny. He was officer of La Salle, friend of De Tonty, and through his conviction they could strike at the men they both hated and feared. More, they realized also that such action would please La Barre. Whatever else had been accomplished by my exhibit of the governor’s letter, it had clearly shown De Baugis that his master desired the overthrow of the young explorer. And while he felt slight friendship for Cassion, he was still La Barre’s man, and would obey his orders. He wished me out of the way for a purpose. What purpose? That I might not hear the lying testimony of those soldiers and Indians, who would swear as they were told.
Tears misted my eyes, so the faces about me were blurred, but, before I could find words in which to voice my indignation, De Tonty stood beside me, and grasped my arm.
“There is no use, Madame,” he said coldly enough,333although his voice shook. “You only invite insult when you deal with such curs. They represent their master, and have made verdict already––let us go.”
De Baugis, Cassion, De la Durantaye were upon their feet, but the dragoon first found voice.
“Were those words addressed to me, M. de Tonty?”
“Ay, and why not! You are no more than La Barre’s dog. Listen to me, all three of you. ’Twas Sieur de la Salle’s orders that I open the gates of this fort to your entrance, and that I treat you courteously. I have done so, although you took my kindness to be sign of weakness, and have lorded it mightily since you came. But this is the end; from now it is war between us, Messieurs, and we will fight in the open. Convict Rene de Artigny from the lies of these hirelings, and you pay the reckoning at the point of my sword. I make no threat, but this is the pledged word of Henri de Tonty. Make passage there! Come, Madame.”
No one stopped us; no voice answered him. Almost before I realized the action, we were outside in the sunlight, and he was smiling into my face, his dark eyes full of cheer.
“It will make them pause and think––what I said,” he exclaimed, “yet will not change the result.”
“They will convict?”
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“Beyond doubt, Madame. They are La Barre’s men, and hold commission only at his pleasure. With M. de la Durantaye it is different, for he was soldier of Frontenac’s, yet I have no hope he will dare stand out against the rest. We must find another way to save the lad, but when I leave you at the door yonder I am out of it.”
“You, Monsieur! what can I hope to accomplish without your aid?”
“Far more than with it, especially if I furnish a good substitute. I shall be watched now, every step I take. ’Tis like enough De Baugis will send me challenge, though the danger that Cassion would do so is slight. It is the latter who will have me watched. No, Madame, Boisrondet is the lad who must find a way out for the prisoner; they will never suspicion him, and the boy will enjoy the trick. Tonight, when the fort becomes quiet, he will find way to explain his plans. Have your room dark, and the window open.”
“There is but one, Monsieur, outward, above the precipice.”
“That will be his choice; he can reach you thus unseen. ’Tis quite possible a guard may be placed at your door.”
He left me, and walked straight across the parade to his own quarters, an erect, manly figure in the sun, his long black hair falling to his shoulders. I drew a335chair beside the door, which I left partially open, so that I might view the scene without. There was no firing now, although soldiers were grouped along the western stockade, keeping guard over the gate. I sat there for perhaps an hour, my thoughts sad enough, yet unconsciously gaining courage and hope from the memory of De Tonty’s words of confidence. He was not a man to fail in any deed of daring, and I had already seen enough of this young Boisrondet, and heard enough of his exploits, to feel implicit trust in his plans of rescue. Occasionally a soldier of the garrison, or acourier du bois, of La Salle’s company, passed, glancing at me curiously, yet I recognized no familiar face, and made no attempt to speak, lest the man might prove an enemy. I could see the door of the guardhouse, and, at last, those in attendance at the trial emerged, talking gravely, as they scattered in various directions. The three officers came forth together, proceeding directly across toward De Tonty’s office, evidently with some purpose in view. No doubt, angered at his words, they sought satisfaction. I watched until they disappeared within the distant doorway, De Baugis the first to enter. A moment later one of the soldiers who had accompanied us from Quebec, a rather pleasant-faced lad, whose injured hand I had dressed at St. Ignace, approached where I sat, and lifted his hand in salute.
336
“A moment, Jules,” I said swiftly. “You were at the trial?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“And the result?”
“The Sieur de Artigny was held guilty, Madame,” he said regretfully, glancing about as though to assure himself alone. “The three officers agreed on the verdict, although I know some of the witnesses lied.”
“You know––who?”
“My own mate for one––Georges Descartes; he swore to seeing De Artigny follow Chevet from the boats, and that was not true, for we were together all that day. I would have said so, but the court bade me be still.”
“Ay, they were not seeking such testimony. No matter what you said, Jules, De Artigny would have been condemned––it was La Barre’s orders.”
“Yes, Madame, so I thought.”
“Did the Sieur de Artigny speak?”
“A few words, Madame, until M. Cassion ordered him to remain still. Then M. de Baugis pronounced sentence––it was that he be shot tomorrow.”
“The hour?”
“I heard none mentioned, Madame.”
“And a purpose in that also to my mind. This gives them twenty-four hours in which to consummate murder. They fear De Tonty and his men may attempt337rescue; ’tis to find out the three have gone now to his quarters. That is all, Jules; you had best not be seen talking here with me.”
I closed the door, and dropped the bar securely into place. I knew the worst now, and felt sick and faint. Tears would not come to relieve, yet it seemed as though my brain ceased working, as if I had lost all physical and mental power. I know not how long I sat there, dazed, incompetent to even express the vague thoughts which flashed through my brain. A rapping on the door aroused me. The noise, the insistent raps awoke me as from sleep.
“Who wishes entrance?”
“I––Cassion; I demand speech with you.”
“For what purpose, Monsieur?”
“Mon Dieu!Does a man have to give excuse for desiring to speak with his own wife? Open the door, or I’ll have it broken in. Have you not yet learned I am master here?”
I drew the bar, no longer with any sense of fear, but impelled by a desire to hear the man’s message. I stepped back, taking refuge behind the table, as the door opened, and he strode in, glancing first at me, then suspiciously about the apartment.
“You are alone?”
“Assuredly, Monsieur; did you suspect others to be present?”
338
“Hell’s fire! How did I know; you have time enough to spare for others, although I have had no word with you since you came. I come now only to tell you the news.”
“If it be the condemnation of Sieur de Artigny, you may spare your words.”
“You know that! Who brought you the message?”
“What difference, Monsieur? I would know the result without messenger. You have done your master’s will. What said De Tonty when you told him?”
Cassion laughed, as though the memory was pleasant.
“Faith, Madame, if you base your hopes there on rescue you’ll scarce meet with great result. De Tonty is all bark.Mon Dieu!I went in to hold him to account for his insult, and the fellow met us with such gracious speech, that the four of us drank together like old comrades. The others are there yet, but I had a proposition to make you––so I left them.”
“A proposition, Monsieur?”
“Ay, a declaration of peace, if you will. Listen Adele, for this is the last time I speak you thus fairly. I have this De Artigny just where I want him now. His life is in my hands. I can squeeze it out like that; or I can open my fingers, and let him go. Now you are to decide which it is to be. Here is where you choose, between that forest brat and me.”
339
“Choose between you? Monsieur you must make your meaning more clear.”
“Mon Dieu, is it not clear already? Then I will make it so. You are my wife by law of Holy Church. Never have you loved me, yet I can pass that by, if you grant me a husband’s right. This De Artigny has come between us, and now his life is in my hands. I know not that you love the brat, yet you have that interest in him which would prevent forgiveness of me if I show no mercy. So now I come and offer you his life, if you consent to be my wife in truth. Is that fair?”
“It may so sound,” I answered calmly, “yet the sacrifice is all mine. How would you save the man?”
“By affording him opportunity to escape during the night; first accepting his pledge never to see you again.”
“Think you he would give such pledge?”
Cassion laughed sarcastically.
“Bah, what man would not to save his life! It is for you to speak the word.”
I stood silent, hesitating to give final answer. Had I truly believed De Artigny’s case hopeless I might have yielded, and made pledge. But as I gazed into Cassion’s face, smiling with assurance of victory, all my dislike of the man returned, and I shrank back in horror. The sacrifice was too much, too terrible; besides340I had faith in the promises of De Tonty, in the daring of Boisrondet. I would trust them, aye, and myself, to find some other way of rescue.
“Monsieur,” I said firmly, “I understand your proposition, and refuse it. I will make no pledge.”
“You leave him to die?”
“If it be God’s will. I cannot dishonor myself, even to save life. You have my answer. I bid you go.”
Never did I see such look of beastly rage in the face of any man. He had lost power of speech, but his fingers clutched as though he had my throat in their grip. Frightened, I stepped back, and Chevet’s pistol gleamed in my hand.
“You hear me, Monsieur––go!”
341CHAPTER XXXI CHOOSE MY FUTURE
He backed out the door, growling and threatening. I caught little of what he said, nor did I in the least care. All I asked, or desired, was to be alone, to be free of his presence. I swung the door in his very face, and fastened the bar. Through the thick wood his voice still penetrated in words of hatred. Then it ceased, and I was alone in the silence, sinking down nerveless beside the table, my face buried in my hands.
I had done right; I knew I had done right, yet the reaction left me weak and pulseless. I saw now clearly what must be done. Never could I live with this Cassion; never again could I acknowledge him as husband. Right or wrong, whatever the Church might do, or the world might say, I had come to the parting of the ways; here and now I must choose my own life, obey the dictates of my own conscience. I had been wedded by fraud to a man I despised; my hatred had grown until now I knew that I would rather be dead than live in his presence.
If this state of mind was sin, it was beyond my power to rid myself of the curse; if I was already condemned342of Holy Church because of failure to abide by her decree, then there was naught left but for me to seek my own happiness, and the happiness of the man I loved.
I lifted my head, strengthened by the very thought, the red blood tingling again through my veins. The truth was mine; I felt no inclination to obscure it. The time had come for rejoicing, and action. I loved Rene de Artigny, and, although he had never spoken the word, I knew he loved me. Tomorrow he would be in exile, a wanderer of the woods, an escaped prisoner, under condemnation of death, never again safe within reach of French authority. Ay, but he should not go alone; in the depths of those forests, beyond the arm of the law, beyond even the grasp of the Church, we should be together. In our own hearts love would justify. Without a qualm of conscience, without even a lingering doubt, I made the choice, the final decision.
I know not how long it took me to think this all out, until I had accepted fate; but I do know the decision brought happiness and courage. Food was brought me by a strange Indian, apparently unable to speak French; nor would he even enter the room, silently handing me the platter through the open door. Two sentries stood just without––soldiers of De Baugis, I guessed, as their features were unfamiliar. They gazed at me curiously, as I stood in the doorway, but343without changing their attitudes. Plainly I was held prisoner also; M. Cassion’s threat was being put into execution. This knowledge merely served to strengthen my decision, and I closed, and barred the door again, smiling as I did so.
It grew dusk while I made almost vain effort to eat, and, at last, pushing the pewter plate away, I crossed over, and cautiously opened the wooden shutter of the window. The red light of the sunset still illumined the western sky, and found glorious reflection along the surface of the river. It was a dizzy drop to the bed of the stream below, but Indians were on the opposite bank, beyond rifle shot, in considerable force, a half-dozen canoes drawn up on the sandy shore, and several fires burning. They were too far away for me to judge their tribe, yet a number among them sported war bonnets, and I had no doubt they were Iroquois.
So far as I could perceive elsewhere there was no movement, as my eyes traveled the half circle, over a wide vista of hill and dale, green valley and dark woods, although to the left I could occasionally hear the sharp report of a rifle, in evidence that besieging savages were still watchful of the fort entrance. I could not lean out far enough to see in that direction, yet as the night grew darker the vicious spits of fire became visible. Above me the solid log walls arose but a few feet––a tall man might stand upon the window344ledge, and find grip of the roof; but below was the sheer drop to the river––perchance two hundred feet beneath. Already darkness shrouded the water, as the broad valley faded into the gloom of the night.
There was naught for me to do but sit and wait. The guard which M. Cassion had stationed at the door prevented my leaving the room, but its more probable purpose was to keep others from communicating with me. De Tonty had evidently resorted to diplomacy, and instead of quarreling with the three officers when they approached him, had greeted them all so genially as to leave the impression that he was disposed to permit matters to take their natural course. He might be watched of course, yet was no longer suspicioned as likely to help rescue the prisoner. All their fear now was centered upon me, and my possible influence.
If I could be kept from any further communication with either De Artigny, or De Tonty, it was scarcely probable that any of the garrison would make serious effort to interfere with their plans. De Tonty’s apparent indifference, and his sudden friendliness with De Baugis and Cassion, did not worry me greatly. I realized his purpose in thus diverting suspicion. His pledge of assistance had been given me, and his was the word of a soldier and gentleman. In some manner, and soon––before midnight certainly––I would receive message from Boisrondet.
345
Yet my heart failed me more than once as I waited. How long the time seemed, and how deadly silent was the night. Crouched close beside the door I could barely hear the muttered conversation of the soldiers on guard; and when I crossed to the open window I looked out upon a black void, utterly soundless. Not even the distant crack of a rifle now broke the solemn stillness, and the only spot of color visible was the dull red glow of a campfire on the opposite bank of the river. I had no way of computing time, and the lagging hours seemed centuries long, as terrifying doubts assailed me.
Every new thought became an agony of suspense. Had the plans failed? Had Boisrondet discovered the prisoner so closely guarded as to make rescue impossible? Had his nerve, his daring, vanished before the real danger of the venture? Had De Artigny refused to accept the chance? What had happened; what was happening out there in the mystery?
All I could do was pray, and wait. Perhaps no word would be given me––the escape might already be accomplished, and I left here to my fate. Boisrondet knew nothing of my decision to accompany De Artigny in his exile. If the way was difficult and dangerous, he might not consider it essential to communicate with me at all. De Tonty had promised, to be sure, yet he might have failed to so instruct the younger346man. I clung to the window, the agony of this possibility, driving me wild.
Mon Dieu!was that a noise overhead? I could see nothing, yet, as I leaned further out, a cord touched my face. I grasped it, and drew the dangling end in. It was weighted with a bit of wood. A single coal glowed in the fireplace, and from this I ignited a splinter, barely yielding me light enough to decipher the few words traced on the white surface: “Safe so far; have you any word?”
My veins throbbed; I could have screamed in delight, or sobbed in sudden joy and relief. I fairly crept to the window on hands and knees, animated now with but one thought, one hope––the desire not to be left here behind, alone. I hung far out, my face upturned, staring into the darkness. The distance was not great, only a few feet to the roof above, yet so black was the night that the edge above me blended imperceptibly against the sky. I could perceive no movement, no outline. Could they have already gone? Was it possible that they merely dropped this brief message, and instantly vanished? No, the cord still dangled; somewhere in that dense gloom, the two men peered over the roof edge waiting my response.
“Monsieur,” I called up softly, unable to restrain my eagerness.
“Yes, Madame,” it was De Artigny’s voice, although347a mere whisper. “You have some word for me?”
“Ay, listen; is there any way by which I can join you?”
“Join me––here?” astonishment at my request made him incoherent. “Why, Madame, the risk is great––”
“Never mind that; my reason is worthy, nor have we time now to discuss the matter. Monsieur Boisrondet is there a way?”
I heard them speak to each other, a mere murmur of sound; then another voice reached my ears clearly.
“We have a strong grass rope, Madame, which will safely bear your weight. The risk will not be great. I have made a noose, and will lower it.”
I reached it with my hand, but felt a doubt as my fingers clasped it.
“’Tis very small, Monsieur.”
“But strong enough for double your weight, as ’twas Indian woven. Put foot in the noose, and hold tight. There are two of us holding it above.”
The memory of the depth below frightened me, yet I crept forth on the narrow sill, clinging desperately to the taut rope, until I felt my foot safely pressed into the noose, which tightened firmly about it.
“Now,” I said, barely able to make my lips speak. “I am ready.”
348
“Then swing clear, Madame; we’ll hold you safe.”
I doubt if it was a full minute in which I swung out over that gulf amid the black night. My heart seemed to stop beating, and I retained no sense other than to cling desperately to the swaying cord which alone held me from being dashed to death on the jagged rocks below. Inch by inch they drew me up, the continuous jerks yielding a sickening sensation, but the distance was so short, I could scarcely realize the full danger, before De Artigny grasped me with his hands, and drew me in beside him on the roof. I stood upon my feet, trembling from excitement, yet encouraged in my purpose, by his first words of welcome.
“Adele,” he exclaimed, forgetful of the presence of his comrade. “Surely you had serious cause for joining us here.”
“Am I welcome, Monsieur?”
“Can you doubt? Yet surely it was not merely to say farewell that you assumed such risk?”
“No, Monsieur, it was not to say farewell. I would accompany you in your flight. Do not start like that at my words; I cannot see your face––perhaps if I could I should lose courage. I have made my choice, Monsieur. I will not remain the slave of M. Cassion. Whether for good or evil I give you my faith.”
“You––you,” his hands grasped mine. “You mean you will go with me into exile, into the woods?”
349
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“But do you realize what it all means? I am a fugitive, a hunted man; never again can I venture within French civilization. I must live among savages. No, no, Adele, the sacrifice is too great. I cannot accept of it.”
“Do you love me, Monsieur?”
“Mon Dieu––yes.”
“Then there is no sacrifice. My heart would break here. God! Would you doom me to live out my life with that brute––that murderer? I am a young woman, a mere girl, and this is my one chance to save myself from hell. I am not afraid of the woods, of exile, of anything, so I am with you. I would rather die than go to him––to confess him husband.”
“The lady is right, Rene,” Boisrondet said earnestly. “You must think of her as well as yourself.”
“Think of her!Mon Dieu, of whom else do I think. Adele, do you mean your words? Would you give up all for me?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“But do you know what your choice means?”
I stood before him, brave in the darkness.
“Monsieur I have faced it all. I know; the choice is made––will you take me?”
Then I was in his strong arms, and for the first time, his lips met mine.
350CHAPTER XXXIWE REACH THE RIVER
It was the voice of Boisrondet which recalled us to a sense of danger.
“It is late, and we must not linger here,” he insisted, touching De Artigny’s sleeve. “The guard may discover your absence, Rene, before we get beyond the stockade. Come, we must move quickly.”
“Ay, and with more than ever to give us courage, Francois. Yet how can we get Madame safely over the logs?”
“She must venture the same as we. Follow me closely, and tread with care.”
So dark was the night I was obliged to trust entirely to De Artigny’s guidance, but it was evident that both men were familiar with the way, and had thoroughly considered the best method of escape. No doubt De Tonty and his young lieutenant had arranged all details, so as to assure success. We traversed the flat roofs of the chain of log houses along the west side of the stockade until we came to the end. The only light visible was a dull glow of embers before the guardhouse near the center of the parade, which revealed a351group of soldiers on duty. The stockade extended some distance beyond where we halted, crouched low on the flat roof to escape being seen. There would be armed men along that wall, especially near the gates, guarding against attack, but the darkness gave us no glimpse. There was no firing, no movement to be perceived. The two men crept to the edge, and looked cautiously over, and I clung close to De Artigny, nervous from the silence, and afraid to become separated. Below us was the dense blackness of the gorge.
“This is the spot,” whispered De Artigny, “and no alarm yet. How far to the rocks?”
“De Tonty figured the distance at forty feet below the stockade; we have fifty feet of rope here. The rock shelf is narrow, and the great risk will be not to step off in the darkness. There should be an iron ring here somewhere––ay, here it is; help me draw the knot taut, Rene.”
“Do we––do we go down here, Monsieur?” I questioned, my voice faltering.
“Here, or not at all; there are guards posted yonder every two yards. This is our only chance to escape unseen.” Boisrondet tested the rope, letting it slip slowly through his hands down into the darkness below, until it hung at full length. “It does not touch,” he said, “yet it cannot lack more than a foot or two. Faith! We must take the risk. I go first Rene––hush! ’tis352best so––the lady would prefer that you remain, while I test the passage. The devil himself may be waiting there.” He gazed down, balancing himself on the edge, the cord gripped in his hands.
“Now mind my word; once on the rock below I will signal with three jerks on the cord. Haul up then slowly, so as to make no noise; make a noose for the lady’s foot, and lower her with care. You have the strength?”
“Ay, for twice her weight.”
“Good; there will be naught to fear, Madame, for I will be below to aid your footing. When I give the signal again Rene will descend and join us.”
“The rope is to be left dangling?”
“Only until I return. Once I leave you safe beyond the Iroquois, ’tis my part to climb this rope again. Some task that,” cheerfully, “yet De Tonty deems it best that no evidence connect us with this escape. What make you the hour?”
“Between one and two.”
“Which will give me time before daydawn; so here, I chance it.”
He swung himself over the edge, and slipped silently down into the black mystery. We leaned over to watch, but could see nothing, our only evidence of his progress, the jerking of the cord. De Artigny’s hand closed on mine.