Middletown transcript., 1916-09-23

shrOat. and before I knew the sIgniH
,ance Of the action. my hand clasped
lis. I felt the grip Of his fingers. and
saw his face turn toward me in the
'usk. Barbeau got to his feet. gun
in hand. and stood shading his eyes.
II would like closer view Of that
village yondcr." be said. "and will go
down the bank a hundred yards or
So"
"'Twill do no harm" returned
D'Artigny. still clasping my hand.
There is time yet before we make
our venture"
He disappeared in the shadows,
leaving rs alone, and I glanced aside
at D'Artigny's face, my heart beating
fiercely.
''You did not like to hear me speak
as I did?" he questioned quietly.
mo" l answered honestly, ''the
thought startled me. If-if anything
happened to you, II should be all
alone"
He bent lower, still grasping my
fingers, ard seeking to compel my eyes
to meet his.
adele" he whispered. "why is it
necessary for US to keep up this mas
querade"
what masquerade, monsieur"
'This pretense at mere friendship"
he insisted, "when we could serve
each other better by a frank confes-
sion of the truth. You love me"
Monsieur" and I tried to draw my
hand away. 81 am the wife Of Fran
co.'s Cassion."
81 care nothing for that unholy al
lance. You are his only by form.
Do you know what that marriage has
cost me? Insults. ever since we left
Quebec. The coward knew l dare not
lay hand upon him. because he was
your husband. We would have crossed
steel a hundred times but for my
memory Of you. / could not kill the
cur, for to do so would separate us
forever. So l bore his taunts. his re-
vilings, his curses. his orders that
were insults. You think it was easy7
I am a woodsman, a lieutenant of La
Sale, and it has never before been
my way to receive insult without a
blow. We are not of that breed. Yet
l bore it for your sake-why? Be
cause I loved you"
"Oh, mOnsieurw
otis naught to the shame Of either
of u.s." he continued. now speaking
with a calmness which held me silent.
"And I wish you to know the truth.
so far as l can make it clear. This
has been in my mind for weeks. and
| say 1t to you now as sOlemnly as
though l knelt before father cOnfes-
sor. You have been to me a memory
Of inspiration ever since we first met
years ago at that convent in Quebec.
| dreamed of you in the wilderness. in
the canoe on the great river, and here
at St Louis. Never did vOyageur go
eastward but asked him to bring me
word from you, and each one bore
from me a message of greeting"
81 received none, monsieur"
"I know that: even Sieur de la Sale
failed to learn your dwelling place.
Yet when he finally chose me as his
cOmrade on this last journey. while |
would have followed him gladly even
to death. the one hope which held me
to the hardships of the trail was the
chance thus given of seeking you my
self.
You know the rest. l have made
tie whole journey; | have borne in
suit. the charge of crime, merely that
| might remain. and serve you. Why
do | say this7 Because tOnight-if
we succeed in getting through the In
dian Hnes-T shall be again among my
old comrades. and shall be. no longer
servant to Francois CassiOn. shall
stand before him man. an equal.
ready to prove myself with the
steel"
NO. monsieur" burst forth. that
must not be: for my sake you will not
QUARREL"
For your sake? You would have
me spare himY"
"Oh. why do you put it thus, mon
sieur! 1t is so hard for me to ex-
plain. You sar you love me. and
and the words bring me joy. Ay. con-
fess that But do you not see that a
blow from your hand struck at Fran
co.'s CasSion would separate us for
ever? Surely that is not the end you
seek. l would not have you bear af-
front longer. yet no open quarrel will
serve to better our affairs Certainly