Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
She paused. I looked most gravely at her, as well one might who
saw so sweet a maid employing her heart thus, and the danger that
faced her. She misread my look a little, maybe, for she said at
once:
"I must be honest with you, and so I tell you all--all, else the
part I play were not possible to me. To you I can speak plainly,
pour out my soul. Do not fear for me. I see a battle coming between
that man and me, but I shall fight it stoutly, worthily, so that in
this, at least, I shall never have to blush for you that you loved
me. Be patient, Robert, and never doubt me; for that would make me
close the doors of my heart, though I should never cease to aid
you, never weary in labor for your well-being. If these things, and
fighting all these wicked men, to make Doltaire help me to save
you, have schooled to action some worse parts of me, there is yet
in me that which shall never be brought low, never be dragged to
the level of Versailles or the Chateau Bigot--never!"
She looked at me with such dignity and pride that my eyes filled
with tears, and, not to be stayed, I reached out and took her
hands, and would have clasped her to my breast, but she held back
from me.
"You believe in me, Robert?" she said most earnestly. "You will
never doubt me? You know that I am true and loyal."
"I believe in God, and you," I answered reverently, and I took
her in my arms and kissed her. I did not care at all whether or no
Gabord saw; but indeed he did not, as Alixe told me afterwards,
for, womanlike, even in this sweet crisis she had an eye for such
details.
"What more did he say?" I asked, my heart beating hard in the
joy of that embrace.
"No more, or little more, for my mother came that instant and
brought me to talk with the Chevalier de la Darante, who wished to
ask me for next summer to Kamaraska or Isle aux Coudres, where he
has manorhouses. Before I left Monsieur Doltaire, he said, 'I never
made a promise but I wished to break it. This one shall balance all
I've broken, for I'll never unwish it.'
"My mother heard this, and so I summoned all my will, and said
gaily, 'Poor broken crockery! You stand a tower among the ruins.'
This pleased him, and he answered, 'On the tower base is written,
This crockery outserves all others.' My mother looked sharply at
me, but said nothing, for she has come to think that I am heartless
and cold to men and to the world, selfish in many things."
At this moment Gabord turned round, saying, "'Tis time to be
done. Madame comes."
"It is my mother," said Alixe, standing up, and hastily placing
her hands in mine. "I must be gone. Good-bye, good-bye."
There was no chance for further adieu, and I saw her pass out with
Gabord; but she turned at the last, and said in English, for she
spoke it fairly now, "Believe, and remember."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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