Beyond the Frontier. Randall Parrish

when first we met at Chevet’s house, and accepted my offer gladly. Have you any theory as to this change in his front?”

      I felt the blood surge to my cheeks, and my eyes fell before the intensity of his glance.

      “If I have, Monsieur, ’tis no need that it be mentioned.”

      “Your pardon, Mademoiselle, but your words already answer me––’tis then that I have shown interest in you; the dog is jealous!”

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      “Monsieur!”

      He laughed, and I felt the tightening of his hand on mine.

      “Good! and by all the gods, I will give him fair cause. The thought pleases me, for rather would I be your soldier than my own. See, how it dovetails in––I meet you at the convent and pledge you my aid; some spy bears word of our conference to Monsieur, and an hour later I receive word that if I have more to do with you I die. I smile at the warning and send back a message of insult. Then my invitation to this ball is withdrawn, and, later still, La Barre even advises that I be assassinated at the least excuse. ’Twould seem they deem you of importance, Mademoiselle.”

      “You make it no more than a joke?”

      “Far from it; the very fact that I know the men makes it matter of grave concern. I might, indeed, smile did it concern myself alone, but I have your interests in mind––you have honored me by calling me your only friend, and now I know not where I may serve you best––in the wilderness, or here in Quebec?”

      “There can nothing injure me here, Monsieur, not with Cassion traveling to the Illinois. No doubt he will leave behind him those who will observe my movements––that cannot harm.”

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      “It is Hugo Chevet, I fear.”

      “Chevet! my uncle––I do not understand.”

      “No, for he is your uncle, and you know him only in such relationship. He may have been to you kind and indulgent. I do not ask. But to those who meet him in the world he is a big, cruel, savage brute, who would sacrifice even you, if you stood in his way. And now if you fail to marry Cassion, you will so stand. He is the one who will guard you, by choice of the Commissaire, and orders of La Barre, and he will do his part well.”

      “I can remain with the sisters.”

      “Not in opposition to the Governor; they would never dare antagonize him; tomorrow you will return with Chevet.”

      I drew a quick breath, my eyes on his face.

      “How can you know all this, Monsieur? Why should my uncle sacrifice me?”

      “No matter how I know. Some of it has been your own confession, coupled with my knowledge of the man. Three days ago I learned of his debt to Cassion, and that the latter had him in his claws, and at his mercy. Today I had evidence of what that debt means.”

      “Today!”

      “Ay! ’twas from Chevet the threat came that he would kill me if I ever met with you again.”

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      I could but stare at him, incredulous, my fingers unconsciously grasping his jacket.

      “He said that? Chevet?”

      “Ay! Chevet; the message came by mouth of the half-breed, his voyageur, and I choked out of him where he had left his master, yet when I got there the man had gone. If we might meet tonight the matter would be swiftly settled.”

      He gazed out into the darkness, and I saw his hand close on the hilt of his knife. I caught his arm.

      “No, no Monsieur; not that. You must not seek a quarrel, for I am not afraid––truly I am not; you will listen––”

      There was a voice speaking in the office room behind, the closing of a door, and the scraping of a chair as someone sat down. My words ceased, and we stood silent in the shadow, my grasp still on De Artigny’s arm.

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CHAPTER V

       Table of Contents

THE ORDER OF LA BARRE

       Table of Contents

      I did not recognize the voice speaking––a husky voice, the words indistinct, yet withal forceful––nor do I know what it was he said. But when the other answered, tapping on the desk with some instrument, I knew the second speaker to be La Barre, and leaned back just far enough to gain glimpse through the opening in the drapery. He sat at the desk, his back toward us, while his companion, a red-faced, heavily-moustached man, in uniform of the Rifles, stood opposite, one arm on the mantel over the fireplace. His expression was that of amused interest.

      “You saw the lady?” he asked.

      “In the receiving line for a moment only; a fair enough maid to be loved for her own sake I should say. Faith, never have I seen handsomer eyes.”

      The other laughed.

      “’Tis well Madame does not overhear that confession. An heiress, and beautiful! Piff! but she might find others to her liking rather than this Cassion.”

      “It is small chance she has had to make choice, and 62 as to her being an heiress, where heard you such a rumor, Colonel Delguard?”

      The officer straightened up.

      “You forget, sir,” he said slowly, “that the papers passed through my hands after Captain la Chesnayne’s death. It was at your request they failed to reach the hands of Frontenac.”

      La Barre gazed at him across the desk, his brows contracted into a frown.

      “No, I had not forgotten,” and the words sounded harsh. “But they came to me properly sealed, and I supposed unopened. I think I have some reason to ask an explanation, Monsieur.”

      “And one easily made. I saw only the letter, but that revealed enough to permit of my guessing the rest. It is true, is it not, that La Chesnayne left an estate of value?”

      “He thought so, but, as you must be aware, it had been alienated by act of treason.”

      “Ay! but Comte de Frontenac appealed the case to the King, who granted pardon, and restoration.”

      “So, ’twas rumored, but unsupported by the records. So far as New France knows there was no reply from Versailles.”

      The Colonel stood erect, and advanced a step, his expression one of sudden curiosity.

      “In faith, Governor,” he said swiftly, “but your 63 statement awakens wonder. If this be so why does Francois Cassion seek the maid so ardently? Never did I deem that cavalier one to throw himself away without due reward.”

      La Barre laughed.

      “Perchance you do Francois ill judgment, Monsieur le Colonel,” he replied amused. “No doubt ’tis love, for, in truth, the witch would send sluggish blood dancing with the glance of her eyes. Still,” more soberly, his eyes falling to the desk, “’tis, as you say, scarce in accord with Cassion’s nature to thus make sacrifice, and there have been times when I suspected he did some secret purpose. I use the man, yet never trust him.”

      “Nor I, since he played me foul trick at La Chine. Could he have found the paper of restoration, and kept it concealed, until all was in his hands?”

      “I have thought of that, yet it doth not appear possible. Francois was in ill grace with Frontenac, and could never have reached the archives. If the paper came to his hands it was by