Part 31 (1/2)

”What did I steal?” he asked with dull apathy. ”The gold vessels from the Catholic Cathedral of Quebec, after--after trying to blow up Government House with gunpowder.”

His despair pa.s.sed. His face suddenly lighted. He smiled. It was so absurd. ”Really!” he said. ”When was the place blown up?”

”Two days before you came here last year--it was not blown up; an attempt was made.”

”Ah, I did not know. Why was the attempt made to blow it up?”

”Some Frenchman's hatred of the English, they say.”

”But I am not French.”

”They do not know. You speak French as perfectly as English--ah, Monsieur, Monsieur, I believe you are whatever you say.” Pain and appeal rang from her lips.

”I am only an honest tailor,” he answered gently. He ruled his face to calmness, for he read the agony in the girl's face, and troubled as he was, he wished to show her that he had no fear.

”It is for what you were they will arrest you,” she said helplessly, and as though he needed to have all made clear to him. ”Oh, Monsieur,” she continued, in a broken voice, ”it would shame me so to have you made a prisoner in Chaudiere--before all these silly people, who turn with the wind. I should not lift my head--but yes, I should lift my head!” she added hurriedly. ”I should tell them all they lied--every one--the idiots! The Seigneur--”

”Well, what of the Seigneur-Rosalie?”

Her own name on his lips--the sound of it dimmed her eyes.

”Monsieur Rossignol does not know you. He neither believes nor disbelieves. He said to me that if you wanted consideration, to command him, for in Chaudiere he had heard nothing but good of you. If you stayed, he would see that you had justice--not persecution. I saw him two hours ago.”

She said the last words shyly, for she was thinking why the Seigneur had spoken as he did--that he had taken her opinion of Monsieur as his guide, and she had not scrupled to impress him with her views. The Seigneur was in danger of becoming prejudiced by his sentiments.

A wave of feeling pa.s.sed over Charley, a rus.h.i.+ng wave of sympathy for this simple girl, who, out of a blind confidence, risked so much for him. Risk there certainly was, if she--if she cared for him. It was cruelty not to rea.s.sure her.

Touching his breast, he said gravely: ”By this sign here, I am not guilty of the crime for which they come to seek me, Rosalie. Nor of any other crime for which the law might punish me--dear, n.o.ble friend.”

He did so little to get such rich return. Her eyes leaped up to brighter degrees of light, her face shone with a joy it had never reflected before, her blood rushed to her finger-tips. She abruptly sat down in a chair and buried her face in her hands, trembling. Then, lifting her head slowly, after a moment she spoke in a tone that told him her faith, her grat.i.tude--not for rea.s.surance, but for confidence, which is as water in a thirsty land to a woman.

”Oh, Monsieur, I thank you, I thank you from the depth of my heart; and my heart is deep indeed, very, very deep--I cannot find what lies lowest in it! I thank you, because you trust me, because you make it so easy to--to be your friend; to say 'I know' when any one might doubt you.

One has no right to speak for another till--till the other has given confidence, has said you may. Ah, Monsieur, I am so happy!”

In very abandonment of heart she clasped her hands and came a step nearer to him, but abruptly stopped still; for, realising her action, timidity and embarra.s.sment rushed upon her.

Charley understood, and again his impulse was to say what was in his heart and dare all; but resolution possessed him, and he said quickly:

”Once, Rosalie, you saved me--from death perhaps. Once your hands helped my pain--here.” He touched his breast. ”Your words now, and what you do, they still help me--here... but in a different way. The trouble is in my heart, Rosalie. You are glad of my confidence? Well, I will give you more.... I cannot go back to my old life. To do so would injure others--some who have never injured me and some who have. That is why.

That is why I do not wish to be taken to Quebec now on a false charge.

That is all I can say. Is it enough?”

She was about to answer, but Jo Portugais entered, exclaiming.

”M'sieu',” he cried, ”men are coming with the Seigneur and Cure.”

Charley nodded at Jo, then turned to Rosalie. ”You need not be seen if you go out by the back way, Mademoiselle.” He held aside the bear-skin curtain of the door that led into the next room.