"Don't be alarmed, Monsieur de Briart," said he. "You are quite safe, because I know you for a good servant to France; and for your late disrespect to Holy Church, in my person, while in talk with your pestilent son, these bonds may be a wholesome and sufficient lesson to you!" "You shall have a lesson sufficient rather than wholesome, I promise you!" said I. "But as for this fellow," went on the Abbe, without noticing my interruption, "he is a spy. You understand how spies fare, Monsieur!" And a malignant light made his eyes appear like two points of steel beneath the ambush of his ragged brows. I saw Marc's lean face flush thickly under the gross accusation. "It is a lie, you frocked hound!" he cried, careless of the instant peril in which he stood. But the Black Abbe never looked at him. "I wish you joy of your son, a very good Englishman, Monsieur, and now, I fear, not long for this world," said he, in a tone of high civility. "He has long been fouling with his slanders the names of those whom he should reverence, and persuading the people to the English. But now, after patiently waiting, I have proofs. His treachery shall hang him!" For a moment the dear lad's peril froze my senses, so that it was but dimly I heard his voice, ringing with indignation as he hurled back the charge upon the lying lips that made it. "If the home of lies be anywhere out of Hell, it is in your malignant mouth, you shame of the Church," he cried in defiance. "There can be no proof that I am a spy, even as there can be no proof that you are other than a false-tongued assassin, defiling your sacred office." It was the galling defiance of a savage warrior at the stake, and even in my fear my heart felt proud of it. The priest was not galled, however, by these penetrating insults. "As for the proofs," said he, softly, never looking at Marc, but keeping his eyes on my face, "Monsieur de Ramezay shall judge whether they be proofs or not. If he say they are not, I am content." At a sign, a mere turn of his head it seemed to me, the Indians loosed Marc's feet to lead him away. "Farewell, Father," said he, in a firm voice, and turned upon me a look of unshakable courage. "Be of good heart, son," I cried to him. "I will be there, and this devil shall be balked!" "You, Monsieur," said the priest, still smiling, "will remain here for the present. To-night I will send a villager to loose your bonds. Then, by all means, come over and see Monsieur de Ramezay at Chignecto. I may not be there then myself, but this business of the spy will have been settled, for the commander does not waste time in such small matters!" He turned away to follow his painted band, and I, shaking in my impotent rage and fear, called after him:-- "As God lives and is my witness, if the lad comes to any harm, these hands will visit it upon you an hundredfold, till you scream for death's mercy!"