"And why?" I asked, pretending surprise. "Being shipwrecked, of course, could scarcely appeal to me, but I am surely not ungrateful to you for saving my life." "As to that, I did no more than any man might be expected to do," he protested. "But you have avoided me for weeks past, and it can scarcely be pleasant now to be alone with me here." "Avoided you! Rather should I affirm it was your own choice, Monsieur. If I recall aright I gave you my confidence once, long ago on the Ottawa, and you refused my request of assistance. Since then you have scarcely been of our party." He hesitated, as though doubtful of what he had best say. "It was never through indifference as to your welfare," he answered at last, "but obedience to orders. I am but an employee on this expedition." My eyes met his. "Did Monsieur Cassion command that you keep in advance?" I asked, "and make your night camps beyond those of the main company?" "Those were his special orders, for which I saw no need, except possibly his desire to keep us separated. Yet I did not know his reason, nor was it my privilege to ask. Had Monsieur Cassion any occasion to distrust me?" "I know not as to occasion, Monsieur, but he left Quebec disliking you because of our conference there, and some words La Barre spoke gave him fresh suspicion that you and I were friends, and should be watched. I do not altogether blame the man for he learned early that I thought little of him, and held it no honor to be his wife. Yet that distrust would have died, no doubt, had it not been fanned into flame by accident. "I was kept in his boat, and every instant guarded by either himself, or Père Allouez, his faithful servitor, until long after we passed Montreal, and entered the wilderness. That day I met you on the bluff was the first opportunity I had found to be alone. Your crew were beyond the rapids, and Cassion felt there could be no danger in yielding me liberty, although, had the _père_ not been ill, 'tis doubtful if I had been permitted to disappear alone." "But he knew naught of our meeting?" "You mistake, Monsieur. Scarcely had you gone when he appeared, and, by chance, noted your footprints, and traced them to where you descended the cliff. Of course he had no proof, and I admitted nothing, yet he knew the truth, and sought to pledge me not to speak with you again." "And you made such pledge?" "No; I permitted him to believe that I did, for otherwise there would have been an open quarrel. From then until now we have never met."