Part 35 (1/2)
And then--and then--there was a wordless cry--her arms reached out in mute appeal--there was no need of speech.
The forest shone green and gold in the sunlight. The wind rustled past like a springtime presence, a presence that set all the pines swaying and the aspens aquiver with music of flower legend and new birth and the joy of life. There was a long silence; and in that silence the pulsing of the mighty forces that lift mortals to immortality.
Then a voice which only speaks when love speaks through the voice was saying, ”Do you remember your dreams?”
”What?” stooping to cull some violets that had looked well against the green of her hunting-suit.
”'Blind G.o.ds of chance--blind G.o.ds of chance'--you used to say that over and over!”
”Ah, M. Radisson taught me that! G.o.d bless the blind G.o.ds of chance--Hortense teaches me that; for”--giving her back her own words--”you are here--you are here--you are here with me! G.o.d bless the G.o.ds of chance!”
”Oh,” she cried, ”were you not asleep? Monsieur let me watch after you had taken the sleeping drug.”
”The stars fight for us in their courses,” said I, handing up the violets.
”Ramsay,” she asked with a sudden look straight through my eyes, ”what did he make you promise when--when--he was dying?”
The question brought me up like a sail hauled short. And when I told her, she uttered strange reproaches.
”Why--why did you promise that?” she asked. ”It has always been his mad dream. And when I told him I did not want to be restored, that I wanted to be like Rebecca and Jack and you and the rest, he called me a little fool and bade me understand that he had not poisoned me as he was paid to do because it was to his advantage to keep me alive.
Courtiers would not a.s.sa.s.sinate a stray waif, he said; there was wealth for the court's ward somewhere; and when I was restored, I was to remember who had slaved for me. Indeed, indeed, I think that he would have married me, but that he feared it would bar him from any property as a king's ward----”
”Is that all you know?”
”That is all. Why--why--did you promise?”
”What else was there to do, Hortense? You can't stay in this wilderness.”
”Oh, yes,” says Hortense wearily, and she let the violets fall.
”What--what else was there to do?”
She led the way back to the cave.
”You have not asked me how we came here,” she began with visible effort.
”Tell me no more than you wish me to know!”
”Perhaps you remember a New Amsterdam gentleman and a page boy leaving Boston on the Prince Rupert?”
”Perhaps,” said I.
”Captain Gillam of the Prince Rupert signalled to his son outside the harbour. Monsieur had been bargaining with Ben all winter. Ben took us to the north with Le Borgne for interpreter----”
”Does Ben know you are here?”
”Not as Hortense! I was dressed as a page. Then Le Borgne told us of this cave and monsieur plotted to lead the Indians against Ben, capture the fort and s.h.i.+p, and sail away with all the furs for himself. Oh, how I have hated him!” she exclaimed with a sudden impetuous stamp.