ON 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 heart fitted 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.
"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 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 _père_ 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, Père 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.