“Ah! you see it!” answered the young man, drawing his brows together and compressing his lips. “My mother told me I should repent of my self-will, and now I am truly punished. God has humbled me. My people are slain and the home of my fathers is in ruins.”
“I suppose you mean the Indians have made a raid on the Marsh settlement and destroyed it?” said the General.
“Yes,” answered Charles sadly. “I am given to understand that a tribe of the Iroquois attacked the Marshes. I believe it is the same tribe which has been following up my old friend Roger the Ranger, and from which he twice escaped. They were fearfully irritated against him, and of course in my position I could not interfere to protect him; but the Marshes they knew to be my home, and it was an understood thing they were to respect them. I suppose they were, as usual, carried away by their desire for vengeance. The man who brought me the news says most of the women and children escaped; but the men have perished or been taken prisoners, which is worse, and the village was in flames when he left. He has been stopped on the road by illness, or I should have known this a month ago. It appears that at the last moment some one, I do not know who, warned those at the Marshes that an attack was meditated, and so to a certain extent they were prepared; as I said, the women and children were got rid of, and the men defended themselves to the death. Some must have escaped, but my informant was unable to tell me who they were.” And having spoken, he stood with his head bent and his eyes fixed on the ground, with all the appearance of a man who has lost heart.
“It is indeed a terrible misfortune,” said the General; “but, who knows? perhaps you have heard an exaggerated account. Come and sit down. We are just going to supper; stay and have it with us. You have not noticed my daughter; she came with Bigot and Co. from Quebec to-day. You may imagine I am not best pleased.”
On hearing of Mercèdes’ presence, Charles looked up, and a light came into his eyes; and going up to her, he said quietly,—
“This is unexpected; it does me good, if anything can do me good.”
“I am so sorry for you,” said Mercèdes, holding out her hand. “Won’t you sit down and tell us more about it? Surely you will cease to live with the Indians now, and return to your own people.”
“Alas! I cannot,” answered Charles; “I am bound to them.” He hesitated. “I married Ominipeg’s daughter. I have a squaw wife.”
If any one had observed her closely they would have seen Mercèdes’ cheek pale for a second—only for a second; it was her father who answered.
“It seems incredible,” he said; “how came you to commit such an act of folly?”