“I am indeed glad!” said Mercèdes. “Dear Louise! This good account of the family ought to cheer you, father. Soon, very soon perhaps, you will join them,” and a sigh escaped her.
Her father heard it, and, putting his arm round her, kissed her affectionately. “If I return to my dear Candiac, Mercèdes, I shall certainly not leave you behind. Had you taken the veil immediately upon your arrival in Canada, the case would have been different: you would have become accustomed to your life; but now you would feel yourself forsaken—besides, it is too late. The war must come to a close before next autumn, and you will not then have completed your novitiate: therefore your residence at the Ursulines can only be temporary; but I think it decidedly safer for you to take refuge there at once. What does my daughter say?”
“That you are quite right; and, besides, you have brought your children up to obey, and not reason, father. As soon as I return to Quebec I will enter the convent. I am no stranger there; the good sisters know me; and from my window I have looked down for months past into the convent gardens, feeling always that my home was there.”
“I am glad you are content,” answered her father. “I have blamed myself for leaving you so long in the world, fearing it might have taken hold of you and robbed you of your peace of mind.”
She coloured slightly. “I am satisfied,” she said, “to do what you think best, father.”
At that moment there was a knock at the door, and the General’s servant entered and handed his master a slip of folded paper. It was from Charles Langlade, requesting an interview with the General.
CHAPTER XXIII
A CONFESSION
“Certainly, tell Monsieur Langlade I shall be most happy to receive him,” said the General; and turning to his daughter, he added, “You will be glad to see your old friend. He has done me good service: at Ticonderoga he conducted several scouting parties; now he is in the neighbourhood of Montreal. I always feel that I have some one I can depend upon when he is near. I shall never understand how he came to join the Indians. Love of freedom, I suppose.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened and Charles Langlade entered. Mercèdes was sitting in the shadow, so that he did not see her immediately, but she noticed at once that a great change had come over him. There was a look of pain—even more than pain, of great sorrow—in his face. The General was also quick to see that something was wrong; and, holding out his hand to welcome him, as if moved by some instinct, he asked,—
“What has happened?”