"He came to me. He was running. He said it was of no use. He had seen men brained. There were legions of Indians. He said there was nothing left but flight. He tried to take me with him." "And when you would not go? When you would not desert?" "Monsieur, he went alone." I laid myself down on the grass before her, and covered her hands with mine. "I am not quite a brute," I said. "I had to ask it. Look, look, mademoiselle, it is all over. See, the sky is gentle, and the Indians are friendly, and my sword---- Well, I will not leave you, mademoiselle, until you tell me to go. But I must say more. Your cousin---- Is he Lord Starling?" "Yes." "Lord Starling is probably alive. If he is, he is searching for you. Have you thought of that?" "But the wilderness,--the terrible leagues of wilderness! He could not track me, monsieur." "When there is money and influence, even the wilderness has messengers. He was close to the person of James. Is he a Catholic?" "He professed it, monsieur." I shook my head. "You are very bitter. You need not be. He was insane that night. I have known the sight of Indian butchery to turn good men into whimpering animals. He was not responsible. I know that he is lavishing time and fortune and strength to find you now." I thought she winced. "You know this, monsieur?" It was my turn to look away. "I know something of a man's heart," I answered deliberately. "If I loved you, mademoiselle, and lost you--lost you, and played the craven,--I should find you. The wilderness would not matter. I should find you. I should find you, and retrieve myself--some way. Lord Starling has wit and daring, else he would not be an exile, else you would not have promised to marry him. Be assured that he is following you, and is probably not far behind. Do you want him to find you, mademoiselle?" I turned with the last word, and looked her full in the face. It was a stupid trick, but it served. I had her answer. "There!" I cried, and I laughed a little jerkily. "Never mind. Don't answer. We have talked enough, mademoiselle. We will be married at noon to-day. Ah, you never loved him, else, no matter what he had done, you could never look as you look now. Wherever he is, or whatever kind of man he may be, I do him no wrong in giving you my name to-day." I took the pictured birch bark from my pocket, and tore it in fine strips. "A useless map," I said in explanation. "Mademoiselle, may I have your finger to measure?" She gave me her hand, and I circled her finger with a grass blade, and warned her that the ring that I should give her would be almost as crude. She was trying to keep herself from asking questions, and was going to succeed. I liked that. It was useless to terrify her with fables of prowling Indians, and profiles on bark. And then, what was there to tell? I knew at once too much and too little. I took some bent gold wire from my pocket, and showed it to her.