A Little Girl in Old Quebec by Amanda Minnie Douglas (kiss me liar novel english TXT) 📖

add to the flames. So we must decide. I cannot risk my own liberty for months for nothing. It will not make M. Destournier's death pang easier."

"Oh, go away, go away!" she almost shrieked, but the sorrow in her voice took off the harshness. "Let me think. I do not love you! I might run away. I might drown myself. I might not be able to keep my promise."

"I should love you so much that you would not want to break it. Ah, I could trust you, since you love no one else that you desire to marry."

She dropped on the ground and hid her face, too much stunned even to cry. "Three lives" kept singing in her ears. Was she not selfish and cruel? O God, what could she do!

"You know even the Sieur and the priests have approved of these mixed marriages, so there would be no voice raised against it. The children would belong to the Church and be reared in the ways of wisdom and honor. In my way I am well born. I could take you to Paris, where you would be well received. I have had some excellent training. Oh, it would be no disgrace."

They were calling to him from the group. He turned away. His intense love for her, his little understanding of a woman's soul, his passionate nature, not yet adjusted to the higher civilization, could not understand and appreciate the cruelty.

When he came back her small hands were nervously beating the dried turf. He could not see her face.

"They have decided to go at once," he exclaimed. "De Loie says there is no time to lose."

"I shall stay here and die," she said.

"That will not save any one's life."

Oh, that was the pity of it!

She rose with a strained white face. She looked like some of the beautiful carvings he had seen abroad. Not even anguish could make her unlovely.

"If you will go," she began hoarsely, and she seemed to strain her very soul to utter the words, "and bring back M. Destournier, and the others, I will marry you--not now, but months hence, when I can resolve upon the step. I shall have to learn--no, you must not touch me, nor kiss me, until I give you leave."

"But you must let me take your hand once, and promise by the Holy Mother of God."

His seriousness overawed her. She rose and held out her slim, white hand, from which the summer's brown had faded. Her lips shook as if with an ague, but she promised.

He wanted to kiss the hand, but he in turn was overawed.

She heard the voices raised in dissent around the fire. What if they would not let him go? She was chill and cold, and almost did not care. She would stay here and die. Perhaps they could take the strange, awesome journey together.

Wanamee joined her. "Savignon has determined to go to the rescue of the men," she began, "but De Loie thinks it a crazy step. And we must stay and risk being made prisoners. What is the matter, _ma fille_? You are as white as the river foam in a storm."

"I am tired," she made answer. "I slept poorly last night. Then they think there is no chance of success?"

"Oh, no, no! And we ought to escape."

She dropped down again, pillowing her head on a little rise of ground. Should she be glad, or sorry? Either way she seemed stunned.

The sky cleared up presently, and the sun came out. The few men walked about disconsolately. The rations were apportioned, some went farther in the woods, to find nuts, if possible. Now that the stores had been taken and two days added to the journey, want might be their portion.

Two of the men succeeded in finding some game. There was a small stream of water, but no fish were discernible in it. It froze over at night, but they could quench their thirst, and with some dried pennyroyal made a draught of tea.

Rose wondered if she had ever prayed before! All she could say now was: "Oh, Holy Mother of God, have pity on me."

The long night passed. De Loie said in the morning: "I think one of you had better start with the women. If we should be beset with the savages, they might find their way home. Here are some points I have marked out."

"No," returned Rose, "let us all perish together."

"_Mon Dieu!_ Do you suppose they would let you perish? You would have to be squaw to some brave."

Rose shuddered. No, she could but die.

De Loie started out on the path he had come. It was mid-afternoon. A light snow began to fall, and the wind moaned in the trees. Rose and Wanamee huddled together at the fire, their arms around each other, under the blanket. It was easy to love Wanamee. But then she had begun it as a child--Was it easy to love when one was grown?

The darkness was descending when they heard a shout. Was it friend or foe? Another, and it came nearer. It was not the voice of an Indian.

De Loie rushed in upon them. "You men go and relieve those at the litter. Savignon is a wizard. He has the three men. I could not believe it at first, and I am afraid now it is a trick. You cannot trust an Indian."

Rose drew a long breath. Then her fate was sealed. Or, if they were attacked in the night, it would be some compensation to die together.

They came in at last, with Destournier on an improvised hemlock litter. The fire blazed up brightly, making a striking picture of the eager faces. The men lowered the litter to the ground, and they crowded around it. Destournier was ghostly pale, but full of thankfulness. When there was a little space open he reached out his hand to Rose.

"You two women have been very brave, but you should not have taken the journey. As for Savignon, we all owe him a debt that we can never repay."

"It is repaid already," returned the Indian, glancing over at Rose. "To have rescued you----"

"What arts and incantations you used! I could not have believed it possible to move their stony hearts."

"It was not their hearts." Savignon gave a grim smile. "It was their fears that were worked upon. I was afraid at one time that I would not succeed. But I had a reward before me."

"Quebec will pay you all honor. It is a grand thing to have saved three lives from torture and death. For there was no other escape."

That night Destournier related the surprise and capture. The stores were a great loss. But they would not let him bemoan them.

"We must get back as rapidly as we can," he said. "I do not trust the temper of the reinforcements, when they find they have been balked of their prey."

The snow had only been a light fall, and the trees in their higher branches were marvels of beauty. It had not reached the ground in many places.

After a frugal breakfast the cavalcade started. Destournier insisted upon walking at first, as he was freshened by his night's rest, comparatively free from anxiety. His broken leg was well bandaged, and he used two crutches. Rose noticed the thinness and pallor, and the general languid air, but she kept herself quite in the background. Savignon was really leader of the small party.

"Wanamee," she said, in a low tone, "will you tell M. Ralph about miladi?--I thought to do it, but I cannot. And I am so sorry she left no message for him. He was always so good to her. And you can tell him I held her a long while in my arms that night."

"You were an angel to her, _ma fille_. I used to wonder sometimes----"

"I suppose it was being ill so long, and trying so hard to get well, that made her unreasonable. It is better to go out of life suddenly, do you not think so?"

"I should like to know a little about the hereafter. You see our nation believe we go at once to another land, and do not stay in that miserable place they tell of. But many of the braves believe there are no women in the happy hunting grounds. One is swung this way and that," and Wanamee sighed.

Rose's mind was torn and distracted by her promise. Now and then an awful shudder took her in a giant grasp, and she thought she would drop down and ask them to leave her. Savignon would stay behind, if she proposed that. What if he had not gone to the Hurons? Frightful stories of torture she had heard rushed to her mind. Old Noko had witnessed them. So had some of the men at the fort. Death itself was not so hard, but to have burning sticks thrust into one's skin, to have fingers and toes cut off, piecemeal--oh, she had saved him from that. Yes, she would marry Savignon, and then throw herself into the river, after she had kept her promise.

The weather was growing colder. They halted for the night, and made a fire. They had shot nothing, but the supper was very light, indeed.

"Little Rose," said Destournier, "come over beside me, since I cannot well come to you. I have hardly seen you, and have not asked what has gone on at the fort. I feel as if I had been away half a lifetime. And miladi----"

"Wanamee will tell you, I cannot." She drew away the hand he held, and gently pushed the Indian woman forward, going out of the clear sound of her voice. Oh, would it be a great sorrow to him?

Wanamee's recital of that last night set a halo about Rose in the man's mind. He had known for years that he had not loved miladi as a man could love, but he also questioned whether such a light, frivolous nature could have appreciated the strong, earnest affection. Her great effort to keep herself young had led to a meretricious childishness. She had a vain, narrow soul, and this had dwarfed it still more. Many a night he had watched over her, pained by her passionate beseeching that he would not let her die, her awesome terror of death. He felt God had been merciful not to allow her to suffer that last rending pain. He had really become so accustomed to the thought of her dying that it did not seem new or strange to him, but one of the inevitable things that one must endure with philosophy. He realized the sweetness and patience of Rose through these last months.

When Wanamee came back she was snugly tucked in her blanket, and feigned sleep. She did not want to talk. She fancied she would like to lie beside miladi in the little burying ground. Young sorrow always turns to death as a comforter.

That night an adventure befell them, though most of them were sleeping from exhaustion. It was the Indian's quick hearing that caught a suspicious sound, and then heard a stealthy rustle. He reached for his gun, and his eyes roved sharply around the little circle. The sound came from nearly opposite. The fire was low, but his sight was keen, and presently he espied two glaring eyes drawing nearer Wanamee and her charge. There was a