“Ay, that he has;” the woman chimed in, whilst her eyes suddenly glared dilating, and she looked menacingly at Amanda; “there is Robitaille, and Lamoureux, and Paille, and myself, and Babet Blais, —poor Babet! but her boy, his boy, his own son, has paid him down with sorrow, he has punished him;—ha! ha!” and both she and her Gorgon-like guest laughed a meaning and triumphant laugh, whilst Amanda yet stood there to be baited by the brutish man and the lost, revengeful woman, the latter of whom thus continued to vent her spleen: “Mistress, what are you but an English interloper? Girl, how can we endure you? Do you not despise us? Do you not insult, despoil, dishonor us? Do you not covet our lands, do you not reap the taxes, take the trade? Would you not all be Seigneurs? What shall we give you that you have not already taken! Ah, out upon you, my young mistress! Think it well if you should not receive what I shall not now name to you,—your guardian's gift to many a maiden—and worse;” she added between her teeth; “death, death,” and turned away scowling.
“Return me to my home, or worse than death awaits you;” cried Amanda; “endless infamy; hated of our race, despised of yours, disowned by both.”
But the woman by this time had begun to busy herself in piling new logs upon the fire, and the colossus, her companion, after having scanned the apartment, seemingly to ascertain whether it was to be trusted to retain the prisoner, at length, satisfied with the result of his scrutiny, unlocked the door with the key which he drew from his pocket, and bestowing a bow of mock respect upon Amanda, who affected not to perceive it, departed; and she, without vouchsafing a look upon her feminine but callous jailor, sank upon a chair in silence.
[CHAPTER XII.]
“Ring the alarm bell.”
Macbeth.
The abductors of Amanda were no other than the three sons of André Duchatel, along with the vindictive Narcisse acting as their guide. He and Alphonse Duchatel, at the branching of the road, had parted company with the others, and so drawn upon themselves the pursuer, Claude Montigny, who being magnificently mounted gained fast upon them, till fearing to be overtaken they leaped from their horses, and taking to their heels concealed themselves amongst the trees that covered the side of the mountain, and where no rider could follow. Claude then saw that he had been the dupe of a stratagem; and after galloping across the country, struck the road that he had been decoyed from following; then urging his horse in the direction which he supposed the principal abductors had pursued, he at length in despair left it, and again clearing fence and brook, held his course towards the city of Montreal, where he arrived betwixt midnight and dawn, and with the butt of his riding-whip knocked at the advocate's door.
The old man was dreaming of the apparently fair fortune of Amanda; of the ingenuous Claude, and of his father, the importunate and imperious Seigneur, when the clang rung through the mansion, and rudely dispelled his visions. At first he was doubtful as to the reality of the alarm, and was dropping again to sleep, when once more the riding-whip sent the startling summons, and leaping from his bed, he threw open the window, and putting his head out, gruffly demanded, who was there.
“Claude Montigny,” was answered from beneath.
“And what wants Claude Montigny at this hour?” asked the advocate, who now perceived the figures of steed and dismounted rider beneath him in the obscurity.