Part 40 (1/2)

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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sionate 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 hoa.r.s.ely, 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 G.o.d.”

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 G.o.d, have pity on me.”

The long night pa.s.sed. 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.”