This victory was to be the last great success of the French. Slowly but surely they were being pushed back upon their great fortress, the key of Canada: Quebec. Still there was no thought of surrender—Montcalm stood firm at the helm.
CHAPTER XVIII
NADJII
The first grey light of morning was creeping through the white curtains of Loïs’ bedroom, where she was still sleeping, when suddenly, without any apparent reason, she awoke and sat straight up.
“I am certain I heard something or some one,” she said to herself, and bent forward to listen. For a few seconds there was silence, save for the twitter of the awakening birds; then there came a slight rattling on the window-pane, as if earth or dust had been thrown.
“I knew I was right,” said Loïs. She got out of bed, slipped on a wrapper, and, bare-footed as she was, went softly across the room to the window; this she opened noiselessly and bent forward. What a lovely autumn morning it was, the air so fresh and full of vitality! The many-tinted leaves of the creepers clambering up the house thrust themselves forward, kissing Loïs’ cheek as if to wish her “good morrow.”
It was scarcely three o’clock. A soft white haze hung like a veil over the land, precursor of a fine day; but this effectually prevented Loïs distinguishing any distant object. A few of the great forest trees had been left standing in the garden, and their thick foliage cast deep shadows, whilst a hedge of oleanders screened the house from the high road leading down to the village. On the other side was the dark forest, stretching out farther than the eye could see.
Still Loïs strained both eyes and ears; some one was there, she felt sure. To a certain extent she had been trained by Roger and Charles, when, in the days of her early girlhood, she had accompanied them on their forest excursions; her hearing was therefore keen and her sight penetrating, and she knew now that she was being watched though she could distinguish no one. She bent farther out of the casement window and showed herself. Then from beneath the shrubs, which grew low down on the ground, she saw the dim outline of a human face. It was dark, and the black, straight hair hung about it, whilst the eyes shone forth like coals of fire. Loïs started, and raised her hand in token that she was aware of the strange presence; instantly the dark face disappeared, and Loïs closed the casement.
“What can she want? Has she brought a message from him? Her coming never bodes good!” Even while uttering these words, she had been hastily dressing herself; and throwing a dark shawl round her head and taking her shoes in her hand, she cautiously opened her door and crept down the stairs. It was evidently not the first time she had thus manœuvred. Passing out by the back door, she kept close up against the house wall until she reached the corner; there she waited. No one, unless accustomed to Indian ways, would have heard or seen anything moving in that garden, and yet before many seconds had elapsed the figure of a woman rose up beside her.
“Nadjii!” said Loïs.
The woman smiled, and, taking the hand Loïs held out to her, stroked it gently, as if the softness and the whiteness pleased her.