But Lendert held her fast. “It means, madam, that this Alaine Hervieu is the woman to whom before God I have pledged myself. I have vowed to marry no other, and I will not.”
“An outcast, a beggar, a creature of my bounty, a companion of coureurs de bois and of wandering women! You would take such to your home, present her to your mother, smirch your honest name——”
“Stop!” Jeanne strode forward, anger on her face and blazing from her eyes. “You, who are a woman, dare to say that to one who has been afflicted so sorely! You, a mother, can dare to cast your venomous slurs at an innocent, motherless girl, who but yesterday roused your compassion and drew tears from your eyes by the recital of her wrongs! Beware, lest Heaven’s curse——” She paused and dropped her hand raised in malediction. “Monsieur,” she said, turning to Lendert, “the girl is now my charge, and has been under the protection of my brother, a holy man, from her birth up, with the exception of the few years with the Merciers. I am ready to vouch for her innocence and goodness as for an angel’s.”
Lendert leaned his head down till his cheek touched Alaine’s curly head resting against his encircling arm. “I should never question it,” he answered. “She is Alaine, and that is enough. I love her. I could never doubt her, having once known her. There is no need of your defence of her, yet I thank you for it.”
“Come to me, my child,” Jeanne ordered, and Alaine slipped from Lendert’s hold to hers.
“Tell your story, monsieur,” Jeanne continued. “Though I do not doubt your faithfulness, I must be as particular in my knowledge of who you are as Madam would be of her son’s wife. You are Madam’s son, yet your name is Verplanck.”
“My mother has been twice married,” said Lendert. “I am her son by her first marriage. Some months ago I met Mademoiselle Hervieu. She interposed herself between me and death. She and her adopted parents took me in, a stranger, and for weeks cared for me as for one of their own flesh and blood. I saw and loved Alaine. I gave her my vows and my promise to return and marry her. We parted. I had a mission to perform; it is not yet done, but I determined when it proved successful to return and claim her, trusting to my mother’s good sense and affection not to oppose my happiness. I went to New Rochelle. I saw Michelle and Louis Mercier. They showed me a letter they had received from François Dupont, he who stole their child away; it was written in Canada; it assured them that Alaine was safe, was well and happy; that she was married to him, and that they were about to depart for France. There were messages from Alaine, and it all seemed as if true.”
“That evil-doer,” muttered Jeanne. “It was all a ruse, monsieur, to prevent further action on the part of her friends. I do not know what he hoped to gain by it. Mademoiselle Hervieu left Quebec in the company of my brother six months ago. She has not seen François Dupont since that time. It is quite true that he carried mademoiselle off and would have married her, but, fortunately, my brother was the instrument in God’s hands to prevent it. It is a long story; we will discuss it later. At present our entire desire is to leave here and reach Manhatte.”
“Which you shall do, and the sooner the better. My roof no longer affords you shelter,” said Madam, bitterly.
Lendert’s sleepy eyes half closed. “Mademoiselle Hervieu is under no obligation to you, madam, my mother, for your son is alive through her defence and her protection. The obligation is upon the other side.”