"Rene de Artigny!" I exclaimed pleasantly, and then laughed. "Why how ridiculous you are, Monsieur. Better be jealous of Pere Allouez yonder, for of him I see far the most. Why do you pick out De Artigny on whom to vent your anger?"

"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. But when 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 pere 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 were eating, 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 Pere 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 Pere 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 my uncle 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 the _pere_ was 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 the _pere's_ eyes stealthily watching my every motion, as he pretended other employment.

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 wandering _couriers 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 were destined 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.

CHAPTER XI

I 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, and possibly 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.

The _pere_ evidently 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 three heavily 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 displeased at his refusal. "I am cramped from sitting in the canoe so long."

"'Twill be a hard climb, and they tell me the _pere_ has 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.

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.

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."

"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. Pere 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."