Beyond the Frontier. Randall Parrish

to bluster and boast. Yet as his 89 lips changed to a grin, I knew of what the man was thinking––he had mistaken De Artigny’s actions for cowardice, and felt assured now of how he would deal with him. He turned to the canoe, a new conception of importance in the sharp tone of his voice.

      “Come ashore, men; ay! draw the boat higher on the sand. Now, Monsieur Chevet, assist your niece forward to where I can help her to land with dry feet––permit me, Adele.”

      “It is not at all necessary, Monsieur,” I replied, avoiding his hand, and leaping lightly to the firm sand. “I am no dainty maid of Quebec to whom such courtesy is due.” I stood and faced him, not unpleased to mark the anger in his eyes. “Not always have you shown yourself so considerate.”

      “Why blame me for the act of La Barre?”

      “The act would never have been considered had you opposed it, Monsieur. It was your choice, not the Governor’s.”

      “I would wed you––yes; but that is no crime. But let us understand each other. Those were harsh words you spoke in anger in the room yonder.”

      “They were not in anger.”

      “But surely––”

      “Monsieur, you have forced me into marriage; the law holds me as your wife. I know not how I may escape that fate, or avoid accompanying you. So far 90 I submit, but no farther. I do not love you; I do not even feel friendship toward you. Let me pass.”

      He grasped my arm, turning me about until I faced him, his eyes glaring into mine.

      “Not until I speak,” he replied threateningly. “Do not mistake my temper, or imagine me blind. I know what has so suddenly changed you––it is that gay, simpering fool yonder. But be careful how far you go. I am your husband, and in authority here.”

      “Monsieur, your words are insult; release your hand.”

      “So you think to deceive! Bah! I am too old a bird for that, or to pay heed to such airs. I have seen girls before, and a mood does not frighten me. But listen now––keep away from De Artigny unless you seek trouble.”

      “What mean you by that threat?”

      “You will learn to your sorrow; the way we travel is long, and I am woodsman as well as soldier. You will do well to heed my words.”

      I released my arm, but did not move. My only feeling toward him at that moment was one of disgust, defiance. The threat in his eyes, the cool insolence of his speech, set my blood on fire.

      “Monsieur,” I said coldly, although every nerve of my body throbbed, “you may know girls, but you deal now with a woman. Your speech, your insinuation is 91 insult. I disliked you before; now I despise you, yet I will say this in answer to what you have intimated. Monsieur de Artigny is nothing to me, save that he hath shown himself friend. You wrong him, even as you wrong me, in thinking otherwise, and whatever the cause of misunderstanding between us, there is no excuse for you to pick quarrel with him.”

      “You appear greatly concerned over his safety.”

      “Not at all; so far as I have ever heard the Sieur de Artigny has heretofore proven himself quite capable of sustaining his own part. ’Tis more like I am concerned for you.”

      “For me? You fool! Why, I was a swordsman when that lad was at his mother’s knee.” He laughed, but with ugly gleam of teeth. “Sacre! I hate such play acting. But enough of quarrel now; there is sufficient time ahead to bring you to your senses, and a knowledge of who is your master. Hugo Chevet, come here.”

      My uncle climbed the bank, his rifle in hand, with face still bloated, and red from the drink of the night before. Behind him appeared the slender black-robed figure of the Jesuit, his eyes eager with curiosity. It was sight of the latter which caused Cassion to moderate his tone of command.

      “You will go with Chevet,” he said, pointing to the fire among the trees, “until I can talk to you alone.”