A STOLEN INTERVIEW.
The news of so unexpected an event spread quickly through the fort, and by the time the gates had been closed and barred again, men were hurrying forward from all sides. They surrounded the travelers, greeting them eagerly, and plying them and their guides with rapid questions.
I held aloof, for I was in too bitter a mood to trust myself to speech. The reasons that had brought the London law clerk to Fort Royal—a journey of hundreds of miles through the wilderness—gave me no concern; but I knew what Father Cleary’s visit meant, and what would follow speedily on his arrival. Surely, I reflected, there could be no man living more wretched than myself. I thought I had become resigned to the loss of Flora, but now I knew that it was a delusion. I could not contemplate her approaching marriage without grief and heartburning—without a mad desire to dare the worst and claim the girl as my own.
The dogs and sledges were going to the stable, and the travelers, still hemmed in by a crowd, were moving toward the factor’s house. Griffith Hawke caught sight of me, and made a gesture; but I pretended not to see him, and turning on my heel, I strode away to a far corner of the yard.
An hour of solitude put me in a calmer frame of mind—outwardly, at least. The supper horn drew me to quarters. I had little appetite, but I made a pretense of eating, and tried to answer cheerfully the remarks that my comrades addressed to me.
By listening I learned much of interest. The men kept up a ceaseless chatter and discussion, and the sole topic of conversation was the arrival of Christopher Burley and the priest. The travelers, it appeared, had come together from Fort York—where all was quiet at the time of their departure—and by the same roundabout road our party had traversed some days before. Strange to say they had encountered no Indians, either on the way or when near the fort, and for this the men had two explanations. A part asserted that the redskins had moved off in the direction of Fort York, while others were of the opinion that they had purposely let the travelers enter unmolested in order to deceive our garrison.
The discussion waxed so hot that no reference was made to the motive of the priest’s visit, for which I was heartily thankful. I was anxious to get away from the noise and the light, and as soon as I had finished my supper I rose. Just then Andrew Menzies, a non-commissioned officer of the company, entered the room.
“Carew!” he called out; “the factor wants to see you when you can spare the time.”
“All right; I’ll go over to the house presently,” and lighting my pipe, I sauntered out of the quarters.
Why the factor wanted me I could not readily conceive, unless it was for some detail connected with his marriage. There were several things that I wished to turn over in my mind before presenting myself to Griffith Hawke, where I would be likely to meet Flora.
A sound of low voices at the gates, and the rattle of a bolt, drew me first in that direction. A little group of men were standing at the loopholes, peering out.
“What’s up, comrades?” I inquired in a whisper.
“Ah, it’s you, Denzil?” replied one looking around. “Didn’t you know? Vallee and Maignon, the voyageurs who came in a bit ago have just started back to Fort York on snowshoes, taking a letter from the factor in regard to the row here this morning.”
“They will go as they came,” added another, “and I believe they will get through all right. They are out on the river by this time, and they would scarcely have been permitted to pass yonder timber had any Indians been on the watch.”
“I agree with you,” said I. “Let us hope that the brave fellows will meet with no mishap.”
I lingered for a moment, but the quiet of the night remained unbroken. Then I turned back across the yard, taking care that none observed me, and made my way to a small grove of fir trees that lay in the rear of the trading house and some distance to the right of the factor’s residence. In the heart of the copse was a rude wooden bench, built some years before by the factor’s orders. I made my way to it over the frozen snow crust, and sat down to meditate and smoke.
I had no more than settled myself when I heard the light, crunching patter of feet. The sounds came nearer, and of a sudden, by the dim glow of the moon, I saw the figure of a woman within six feet of me. It was Flora Hatherton. She was bareheaded, and a long cloak was thrown over her shoulders. As she advanced, her hands clasped in front of her, a stifled sob broke from her lips.
I had been on the point of retreating, but the girl’s distress altered my mind. By an irresistible impulse I rose and stood before her.
“Flora!” I exclaimed.
She shrank back with a smothered scream.
“Hush! do not be alarmed!” I added. “Surely you know me?”
“Denzil!” she whispered. “Oh, what a fright you gave me!”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“The house was so warm—they have the stove red hot,” she stammered confusedly. “I slipped out for a breath of fresh air. And you?”
“I came for the same purpose,” said I. “This is a favorite spot of mine. But you have been weeping Flora.”
“No—oh, no,” she answered, in a tone that belied her words. “You are mistaken, Denzil. I—came here to think.”
“Of what?”
“Of my wedding day,” she replied half-defiantly. “Surely you know that the priest has arrived. I am to be married to-morrow morning.”
“To-morrow morning!” I gasped.
“Yes, unless the world ends before then. Oh, Denzil, I have such wicked thoughts to-night! It is in my heart to wish that the Indians would take the fort—that something would happen before to-morrow.”
“Nothing will happen,” I said bitterly. “The fort can stand a siege of days and months. So you are determined to wed Griffith Hawke—to forget what we have been to each other in the past?”
“Denzil, you have no right,” she said sadly.
The words stung me, and I suddenly realized the depths of shame to which I had sunk. She saw her advantage, and pressed it.
“I have lingered too long,” she said. “I fear I shall be missed. This is our last meeting. Farewell, Denzil!”
“Farewell!” I answered bitterly.
She held out her hand, and I pressed it to my lips. It was like marble. Then she turned and glided away, and I heard her light footsteps receding among the trees.
The next instant I regretted that I had yielded and let her go. The thought that I might never see her again maddened me. Without realizing the recklessness and folly of it, I started in pursuit, calling her name in a hoarse whisper.
But I was too late, swiftly as I moved. I reached the edge of the trees in time to see a flash of light as the rear door of the factor’s house opened and closed.
I stood for a moment in the moonlight and solitude and then something happened that cooled my fevered brain and put Flora out of my thoughts. Loud on the frosty night rang the report of a gun; two more followed in quick succession. From the nearest watch-tower the sentries shouted a sonorous alarm, and their voices were drowned by a shrill and more distant burst of Indian yells.