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 you not 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 of the 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 the _pere_ officiated 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, Pere Allouez assures me. I shall have no rival then in all this wilderness; you think me harmless, Monsieur? Look at me, and say!"

"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 would front 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, nor 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."

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, with 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.

CHAPTER XIII

WE REACH THE LAKE

He was between me and the deer trail, and enough of daylight yet remained to enable me to perceive the man clearly. How long he may have been there observing me I could not know, but when I first saw him he was bent forward, apparently deeply interested in some sudden discovery upon the ground at his feet.

"You thought me long in returning, Monsieur?" I asked carelessly, and taking a step toward him. "It was cooler up here, and the view from the bluff yonder beautiful. You may gain some conception of it still, if you care."

He lifted his head with a jerk, and stared into my face.

"Ay! no doubt," he said harshly, "yet I hardly think it was the view which held you here so long. Whose boot print is this, Madame? not yours, surely."

I glanced where he pointed, my heart leaping, yet not altogether with regret. The young Sieur had left his trail behind, and it would serve me whether by his will or no.