So I smiled, and made light of his suspicion.
“It was but surprise, Monsieur,” I said gaily “for I had not dreamed of such an honor. ’Tis my wish to go; see, I have been working on a new gown, and now I must work the faster.”
I swept him a curtsey, smiling to myself at the expression of his face, and before he could speak had disappeared within. Bah! I would escape those eyes and be alone to dream.
16
CHAPTER II
THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND
It was just before dark when Monsieur Cassion left us, and I watched him go gladly enough, hidden behind the shade of my window. He had been talking for an hour with Chevet in the room below; I could hear the rattle of glasses, as though they drank, and the unpleasant arrogance of his voice, although no words reached me clearly. I cared little what he said, although I wondered at his purpose in being there, and what object he might have in this long converse with my uncle. Yet I was not sent for, and no doubt it was some conference over furs, of no great interest. The two were in some scheme I knew to gain advantage over Sieur de la Salle, and were much elated now that La Barre held power; but that was nothing for a girl to understand, so I worked on with busy fingers, my mind not forgetful of the young Sieur de Artigny.
It was not that I already loved him, yet ever since girlhood the memory of him had remained in my thought, and in those years since I had met so few young men that the image left on my imagination had 17 never faded. Indeed, it had been kept alive by the very animosity which my uncle cherished against Monsieur de la Salle. The real cause of his bitterness, outside of trade rivalry, I never clearly understood, but he was ever seeking every breath of gossip from that distant camp of adventurers, and angrily commenting thereon. Again and again I overheard him conspiring with others in a vain effort to influence Frontenac to withdraw his support of that distant expedition, and it was this mutual enmity which first brought Cassion to our cabin.
With Frontenac’s removal, and the appointment of La Barre as Governor, the hopes of La Salle’s enemies revived, and when Cassion’s smooth tongue won him a place as Commissaire, all concerned became more bold and confident in their planning. I knew little of it, yet sufficient to keep the remembrance of those adventures fresh in my mind, and never did they recur to me without yielding me vision of the ardent young face of De Artigny as he waved me adieu from the canoe. Often in those years of silence did I dream of him amid the far-off wilderness––the idle dreaming of a girl whose own heart was yet a mystery––and many a night I sat at my window gazing out upon the broad river shimmering in the moonlight, wondering at those wilderness mysteries among which he lived.
Yet only once in all those years had I heard mention 18 of his name. ’Twas but a rumor floating back to us of how La Salle had reached the mouth of a great river flowing into the South Sea, and among the few who accompanied him was De Artigny. I remember yet how strangely my heart throbbed as I heard the brief tale retold, and someone read the names from a slip of paper. Chevet sat by the open fire listening, his pipe in his mouth, his eyes scowling at the news; suddenly he blurted out: “De Artigny, say you? In the name of the fiend! ’tis not the old captain?” “No, no, Chevet,” a voice answered testily, “Sieur Louis de Artigny has not stepped foot on ground these ten years; ’tis his brat Rene who serves this freebooter, though ’tis like enough the father hath money in the venture.” And they fell to discussing, sneering at the value of the discovery, while I slipped unnoticed from the room.
Chevet did not return to the house after Monsieur Cassion’s canoe had disappeared. I saw him walking back and forth along the river bank, smoking, and seemingly thinking out some problem. Nor did he appear until I had the evening meal ready, and called to him down the arbor. He was always gruff and bearish enough when we were alone, seldom speaking, indeed, except to give utterance to some order, but this night he appeared even more morose and silent than his wont, not so much as looking at me as he took seat, 19 and began to eat. No doubt Cassion had brought ill news, or else the appearance of De Artigny had served to arouse all his old animosity toward La Salle. It was little to me, however, and I had learned to ignore his moods, so I took my own place silently, and paid no heed to the scowl with which he surveyed me across the table. No doubt my very indifference fanned his discontent, but I remained ignorant of it, until he burst out savagely.
“And so you know this young cockerel, do you? You know him, and never told me?”
I looked up in surprise, scarce comprehending the unexpected outburst.
“You mean the Sieur de Artigny?”
“Ay! Don’t play with me! I mean Louis de Artigny’s brat. Bah! he may fool Cassion with his soft words, but not Hugo Chevet. I know the lot of them this many year, and no ward of mine will have aught to do with the brood, either young or old. You hear that, Adele! When I hate, I hate, and I have reason enough to hate that name, and all who bear it. Where before did you ever meet this popinjay?”
“At the convent three years ago. La Salle rested there overnight, and young De Artigny was of the party. He was but a boy then.”
“He came here today to see you?”
“No, never,” I protested. “I doubt if he even had 20 the memory of me until I told him who I was. Surely he explained clearly why he came.”
He eyed me fiercely, his face full of suspicion, his great hand gripping the knife.
“’Tis well for you if that be true,” he said gruffly, “but I have no faith in the lad’s words. He is here as La Salle’s spy, and so I told Cassion, though the only honor he did me was to laugh at my warning. ‘Let him spy,’ he said, ‘and I will play at the same game; ’tis little enough he will learn, and we shall need his guidance.’ Ay! and he may be right, but I want nothing to do with the fellow. Cassion may give him place in his boats, if he will, but never again shall he set foot on my land, nor have speech with you. You mark my words, Mademoiselle?”
I felt the color flame into my cheeks, and knew my eyes darkened with anger, yet made effort to control my speech.
“Yes, Monsieur; I am your ward and have always been obedient, yet this Sieur de Artigny seems a pleasant spoken young man, and surely ’tis no crime that he serves the Sieur de la Salle.”
“Is it not!” he burst forth, striking the table with his fist. “Know you not I would be rich, but for that fur stealer. By right those should be my furs he sends here in trade. There will be another tale to tell soon, now that La Barre hath the reins of power; and this 21 De Artigny––bah! What care I for that young cockerel––but I hate the brood. Listen, girl, I pay my debts; it was this hand that broke Louis de Artigny, and has kept him to his bed for ten years past. Yet even that does not wipe out the score between us. ’Tis no odds to you what was the cause, but while I live I hate. So you have my orders; you will speak no more with this De Artigny.”
“’Tis not like I shall have opportunity.”
“I will see to that. The fool looked at you in a way that made me long to grip his throat; nor do I like your answer, yet ’twill be well for you to mark my words.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
