CHAPTER XVIII
I AM RESCUED FROM A GREAT DANGER
Lucy's illness proved so serious that all thought of Louisbourghad to be abandoned during the long weeks she lay between life anddeath. Now it was that I realised the full dreariness of winter.The snow-covered fields and woods had a stillness and emptinessthat weighed upon me; my eyes grew weary of the dead whiteness;and that the earth should again be green, and warm, and living,seemed to call for something little short of a miracle. By thewater-side it was worse: the drift-ice was piled along the shorein the wildest confusion, magnified and distorted by great banksand fantastic wreaths of snow. Beyond this was the black, openwater, bearing the floating ice backward and forward with thechanging tides, never at rest, grinding ceaselessly against thefrozen barrier between it and the shore, and heralding a comingchange of weather with strange, hollow explosions and moanings.The shortness of the days, the desolation of the sweeping stormswhich imprisoned us, the unbroken isolation, and the disappointmentof long delay told heavily on my spirits, which might have failedme had it not been for the constant care demanded by Lucy.
Before she gained strength to be about once more, the feeling ofspring was in the air, crows were calling to one another, here andthere a rounded hill-top showed a dun, sodden patch under thestrengthening sun, and a trickling and gurgling told that, underneaththe snow, the waters were gathering to free the rivers and sendtheir burthen of ice sweeping into the St. Lawrence.
M. de Sarennes had come and gone with promises of return. He wonmy gratitude by his forbearance to me as well as by his unlooked-forgentleness towards poor Lucy, whose heart he filled with admirationby kindly words of her boy, and assurances of his safety.
She, poor thing, had not recovered her full mental condition withher strength, and was possessed of an idea that Christopher was atQuebec, and that she should be on her way there to meet him. Thisidea I did my utmost to dissipate, but M. de Sarennes, possibly toquiet or please her, had let fall something which she had taken asan assurance that the English troops were there, and her son withthem, and however successfully I might persuade her at the momentof the truth, she would as regularly come back to her delusion whenalone.
Distressing as this was as an indication of her condition, it wasthe more disturbing to me as it was the last blow to my hopes forLouisbourg. It would be sheer madness to trust myself to M. deSarennes without her protection; a protection which had vanishednow, in the complete ascendency he had gained over her by his readyacquiescence in her imaginings, and I could not but feel he wasskilfully withdrawing her affections from me.
However, he was called away to his post so suddenly that I wasspared the difficulty of a decision, and I had almost determinedthat I would go on to Quebec and place myself under the care of M.de Montcalm, when, towards the end of May, he returned, unexpectedby any of us, even by his mother, who, it was patent, was muchdisturbed; but her unwavering belief in his superior judgment kepther silent. "He is my son, and knows his duty better than we," washer only reply to Angelique's questionings at any time, and it didnot fail her now. It was touching to mark her effort to carry thingsoff, to cover his preoccupation, and, distraught though he was, heremitted nothing of his attentions towards her, and so each comfortedand shielded the other. I felt like an intruder, and when Angeliqueproposed a visit to the porpoise-fishery for the afternoon, Ieagerly accepted the chance of escape.
We wandered off towards the beach, and by it made our way round tothe great bay where the porpoise-fishing once took place.
"Look at the bones of the old days, and you can imagine what itmeant to us," said Angelique, pointing to the line of great ribs,and skulls, and skeletons which made a grotesque barrier to thehighest tides, almost completely round the wide semicircle of thebay. "We fought for this many a long year, both with men and atlaw, and now, alas, we have neither men nor law to work it for us.The porpoise can swim in and out of the broken park unharmed. There,just as that fellow is doing now I Look at him!" As she spoke, ahuge white mass rose slowly above the water within the bounds ofthe fishery, and then came forward with a rush in pursuit of thesmelts and capelans, shooting up showers of spray, which broke intorainbows in the brilliant sunlight.
"It is like everything else, going to rack and ruin; with the peoplestarving in the sight of plenty, because this wretched war mustdrag on," sighed Angelique. "The men feel nothing of it; they haveall the fighting and glory, while we sit at home helpless, goodfor nothing."
"Don't say that, ma belle!" called out her brother, cheerily; andwe turned to find him behind us. "Do you think we could have theheart to keep it up, if it were not for the thought of you? Butthere, you are tired and out of sorts, little one. Go back to themother, and I will take madame round by the end of the bay and backby the sucrerie."
It was impossible for me to object, and Angelique left us, whilewe took our way along the sands. M. de Sarennes seemed to havethrown aside his former cares, and rattled on in his natural way,noting and explaining everything which might interest me, and hadI not known him better, I might have been misled by his openness;but all the time I kept asking myself: "When will he speak? Whatwill he say?" So that it was a relief when, as we turned away fromthe shore into the woods, he suddenly dropped his former tone, andaddressed me without pretence:
"Well, madame, are you as anxious as before to get to Louisbourg?"
"No; I have decided not to go. It is too late."
"Why too late? Are you fearful M. de Maxwell may have weariedwaiting for you?"
"Monsieur, your words are an insult! If this be all you have tosay to me, I beg you will let me return to the house."
"Not so fast, madame. I have a question or two yet which requireto be answered, unless you prefer I should put them before my motherand sister. No? Then will you tell me who this boy Christophe reallyis? From his first appearance below there I was much puzzled whyM. de Maxwell should have taken so unusual an interest in him. Hewas as jealous of the boy's liking for me as a doting mother couldbe, and was more distressed over his capture than many a fatherwould have been over the loss of his son."
"Monsieur," I answered, trying to conceal my alarm, "M. de Maxwelllodged for some time in London in the house of this boy's mother,my waiting-woman, Lucy Routh. Surely his meeting again with thelad he knew as a child will explain his interest."
"Indeed? And may I ask when it was that he lodged with this convenientwaiting-woman?" he said, with a sneer that set my blood boiling.
"It was ten years ago, monsieur. Why do you ask me these questions?"
"Because I wish to try a small problem in calculation. I was rudeenough to hazard a guess at your age the first time we came to anunderstanding. Perhaps it was ungallant, but still, it remains. Isaid then, you were 'of a certain age,' but now, to be exact, wewill say you are twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-six. This boy in whomsuch a paternal interest was displayed must be fifteen or sixteen.No, that will not adjust itself. Forgive my thinking out loud."
"Monsieur, this is intolerable! What is it you wish to know?"
"Simply if M. de Maxwell was acquainted with this paragon ofwaiting-women before he lodged with her ten years ago?"
"You coward! Why do you not put such a question to M. de Maxwellhimself?"
"It might prove embarrassing, madame. Almost as embarrassing as ifI had obeyed the orders of your friend M. le Marquis de Montcalm,and brought you to M. le Chevalier de Maxwell, as you desired."
"I am completely at a loss to know what you mean," I said, boldly,but my heart sank at his words.
"Simply this, madame," and he handed me an open letter.
"MONSIEUR" [I read],--"If you have any regard for me, keep the lady claiming to be my wife at such a distance that I may never set eyes on her again. Should she be in want, I will gladly reimburse you for any expenditure you may make on her account.
"LE CHEVR DE MAXWELL."
It was almost like a blow, and for a moment I stood numb andbewildered; but the realisation of my d
anger, from the man whostood there smiling at my degradation, was a spur to me, and Ineither fainted nor cried aloud.
"A pitiable situation, truly! Believe me, my dear madame, my heartbleeds for you."
"You are a liar, as well as a coward, monsieur. I know not whatyou have said or written to M. de Maxwell, but neither he nor anyman can ever cast me off. I am not his wife!"
"Thank God for that!" he cried, in so different a voice that Ilooked at him in surprise. "Thank God for that! Marguerite, I loveyou with my whole heart, and body, and life. I know I am nothingbut a rough coureur de bois, in spite of my birth. I have beencruel to you. I have tortured you. Forgive me, forgive me! I knewof no other way to woo you. Teach me to be gentle, and I will begentle for your sake. But, God in heaven! do not ask me to giveyou up! I cannot live without you. I have lost my soul to you. Ihave lost everything, for I should not be beside you even now!"
"No, you should not!" rang out a clear voice, and le pere Jeanstepped into the path before us. "Man never spake truer words,Sarennes. I have followed you night and day to bring you back toyour duty. You are waited for every hour at Louisbourg, for theIndians will not move without you."
He spake rapidly, like one accustomed to command, and at the sametime held forth his hand to me, as one might to a child, and Iseized it in both mine, and stepped close to his side.
At the first sound of the priest's voice M. de Sarennes's wholeaspect changed; his face took on a hard, obstinate look, and hescowled as if he would have struck the man before him, but heanswered him not a word.
"Go!" again commanded the priest. "Go back to Louisbourg! You needno word of mine to urge you; if you do, I will tell you the Crossof St. Louis awaits you there."
"What care I for your Cross of St. Louis? I am not a French popinjayto be dazzled by your gewgaws from Versailles."
"Then go because your honour calls!"
"Who are you to prate about honour? What does a priest know abouthonour? Keep to your pater-nosters and aves!" he cried, with aninsulting laugh.
"You clown!" cried the priest, trembling with indignation. "Myancestors carried their own banner to the Sepulchre of Our Lord,when yours were hewers of wood and drawers of water! But, forgiveme," he added, almost in the same breath, "this is beside thequestion. M. de Sarennes, you are a soldier, and as such yourhonour is dear to you; there are hundreds of men, aye, and thereare women too, whose honour and safety in a few weeks, perhapssooner, will depend on your succour. You know your help is absolutelynecessary in the event of the place being invested. M. de Montcalmexpects you to be at your post; M. de Vaudreuil has himself givenyou his orders; your Indians will follow no other than yourself,and are only waiting for you to lead them. No one knows betterthan yourself with what suspicion they will look on yourdisappearance. Your name will be on every lip in Louisbourg, andevery eye will hourly watch for your coming. You carry the safetyof the fortress, perhaps of the country, in your keeping."
"What you say is no doubt true, mon pere. But it rests with youwhether I go or not," he returned, in a quiet voice, without atrace of the passion which had swayed him a moment since.
"How? In what way can it rest with me? I have given you my message,your orders."
"Yes, mon pere, but I require more; I wish for your blessing."
"You shall have that, my son, my blessing and my constant prayers."
"That is well, mon pere, but I require more; I would have yourblessing for another also."
"For whom?"
"For this lady, mon pere. If you wish me to leave for Louisbourg,you will marry me first," he said, with a laugh.
"Madame de St. Just."
"No, not 'Madame de St. Just!' But she will then have the right tostyle herself 'Madame de Sarennes.' Don't attempt any heroics!" hewent on, raising his voice angrily, while I shrank close to thepriest in terror. "I know all about this pretended Madame de St.Just, perhaps even better than do you. If I choose to give her anhonourable name, it is my own affair. Don't prate to me abouthonour! I am here because it does not weigh with me for the moment.Don't talk to me of the safety of the country; it is in your hands.I tell you plainly I will not go otherwise. Marry me to-day, andI will start to-night; if not, then any blame there may be willlie not on my head, but on yours. Now, monsieur, you have my answer."
The two men stood facing each other for a moment in silence.
"The two men stood facing each other in silence."]
Then the priest turned to me: "Will you marry this man, my daughter?"
"Oh, mon pere!" I cried, shuddering, and holding closer to him.
He stepped in front of me and faced the Canadian. "Go!" he commanded."Go! You may succour Louisbourg or not, as you will, but before Iwould raise my hand in such a sacrilege as you have dared to insultyour God in proffering, I would see it withered to the bone. I willtry to believe you led astray by your evil passions, that you arenot sane for the moment; and if God see fit to leave you in yourpresent evil possession, He will have punished you more fearfullythan any curse of mine can do. Go, and may God pity you! Come, mydaughter," he said to me.
Holding my hand in his strong, assuring grasp, he led me besidehim, safe in his protecting presence. Before we gained the openpath he stopped, and, motioning me to be seated on a log, he remainedstanding. The moment he withdrew his hand the distance between usseemed immeasurable; all his protection, all his comradeship werewithdrawn with his grasp, and he stood before me as the priest andjudge only.
"I have no wish to add to your trouble," he began, slowly, andalmost unwillingly, I thought, "but for your own safety I must makeit clear to you, beyond further question or casuistry, what yourposition now is, and to what your disobedience has led. For yourself,you are in a position sevenfold worse than you were before; youhave carried the harmless deception I authorised to a point thathas placed you in a most dangerous and humiliating situation.Sarennes has become infatuated with you to an extent which threatensruin to himself, disgrace to those nearest him, and, perhaps,disaster to greater and more important interests. Nay, do not riseor speak. I know you would disclaim any part in the matter, butunfortunately your intention does not alter facts; it is yourpresence here that is at fault. Beyond this you are personally inextreme peril; you must realise that this man knows nothing of therestrictions which should govern his conduct towards you. Blindedas he is by his passion, he will not hesitate a moment to carryyou off, if need be, and his conscience will never suffer amoment's pang, provided he find a priest to patter the words ofthe marriage-service over you, if, indeed, he even hold such aconcession to your feelings necessary. The presence of his motherand sister is no real protection, and even his absence is noassurance of safety, for he can readily find means to carry outhis purpose without appearing on the scene himself. You had betterstay within-doors, or at least within sight of the house, untilthe immediate danger is past. I will not go with you farther now,as I have no wish to offer more explanations than may be absolutelynecessary, and I must follow this unhappy man, if haply I yet mayturn him to his duty. Do you go on to the house, and when I return,perhaps on the morrow, I will see what can be done."
"Oh, mon pere, mon pere, forgive me before I go!" I cried, kneelingat his feet.
"There is no question of my forgiveness," he answered, coldly. "Youmust learn that wrong-doing need not be personal to produce evil.There is no question of me or thee in the matter at all. It is muchgreater, much more serious than any personal feeling, and theresults may swell out of all proportion, that you can see, to youraction. All that can be done now is to remedy it in so far as inus lies. Go, my daughter, go and ask for guidance, the one thingneedful, far above any mere human forgiveness. But do not go thinkingyou have forfeited either my sympathy or my help. I owe both toyou, as to every helpless creature God sends into my path; and,believe me, no one could appeal more strongly to my poor protectionthan do you. Go, my daughter, and may God keep and comfort you!"
I found my way back, dazed and confounded, and could only with thegreat
est effort command myself sufficiently to return some coherentanswer to Angelique's inquiry as to her brother; but she coveredmy confusion with her own liveliness.
"Never marry a soldier, 'mademoiselle!'" she exclaimed. "Theyworry one's life out with their eternal comings and goings. Aslikely as not Charles is off again, and will never come near us tosay farewell; but that is a bagatelle. The real trouble is that mymother is an old woman; she realises keenly that any day Charlesmay say good-bye for the last time, and to spare her the pain ofparting, he has more than once slipped off quietly like this. Neverwas a man so tender of women as my brother Charles! But you arepale; you look tired out. It is often so in spring-time in thiscountry. What you should do is to get to bed at once, and haveLucie bring you a tisane when you are ready for sleep. Go, that iswise."
It was such a relief to be alone, to lie broken and wretched, butsafe and by myself, in my own chamber, that for the moment thissufficed me; then sleep came to me, and when I awoke, quieted andrefreshed, the house was still, and Lucy lay sleeping in her cotnear by.
With the waking, came back the whole dreadful scene through whichI had just passed, and in my ears rang the warnings of le pere Jeantouching my safety. Alas! I realised the danger only too vividly,and I trembled in the darkness at the pictures I could not helpforming in my mind. There seemed no outlet and no end to my misery.Even the thought of facing the mother, who saw naught but thechivalrous soldier in her son, and the sister, who so firmly believedin the tenderness and magnanimity of her brother, was a torture tome. In Lucy it would be impossible as well as dishonourable toconfide, and, with the priest gone, I stood alone against a dangerthe very existence of which would be a degradation to reveal.
Suddenly I remembered Gabriel and the promise which I had dismissedso lightly at the time of its making, and at once a way of escapeopened before me.
I did not hesitate a moment; slipping noiselessly out of bed, Idressed myself, and taking my heavy cloak and shoes in my hand, Istole out of my room and into the kitchen, where I felt for thebox with the steel and flint beside the fireplace, and then openingthe door, I stood alone in the quiet night.
I was country-born, if not country-bred, which served me in goodstead now; for the night had not the terrors for me I had feared,and I marvelled at my courage as I went on. I had only one anxietyin mind, and that was lest the beacon should not be in a fit statefor firing. Thinking of nothing else, I hurried down the path bythe Little River until I reached the Beacon Point, where, to myrelief, I found the pile of wood dry and undisturbed.
I knelt beside it; but at first my hands trembled so I could notstrike a spark; however, the very effort steadied me, and, gatheringsome small twigs, in a few minutes I had my tinder alight, thetwigs caught, with them I lighted others, and when I rose to myfeet the flame was curling up through the skilfully piled branches,and in a few moments a straight pillar of fire went leaping up intothe night.
"A straight pillar of fire went leaping up intothe night."]