CHAPTER XX
I CHOOSE MY DUTY
The view outspread before me revealed nothing new; the same dread waste of water extended to the horizon, while down the shore no movement was visible. As I rested there, oppressed by the loneliness, I felt little hope that the others of our party had escaped without disaster.
De Artigny’s words of cheer had been spoken merely to encourage me, to make me less despondent. Deep down in his heart the man doubted the possibility of those frail canoes withstanding the violence of the storm. It was this thought which had made him so anxious to secure food, for, if the others survived, and would return seeking us, as he asserted, surely they would appear before nightfall, and there would be no necessity for our snaring wild game in order to preserve life.
De Artigny did not believe his own words; I even suspicioned that he had gone now alone to explore the shore-line; seeking to discover the truth, and the real fate of our companions. At first this conception of our situation startled me, and yet, strange as it may 235 seem, my realization brought no deep regret. I was conscious of a feeling of freedom, of liberty, such as had not been mine since we departed from Quebec. I was no longer watched, spied upon, my every movement ordered, my speech criticized. More, I was delivered from the hated presence of Cassion, ever reminding me that I was his wife, and continually threatening to exercise his authority. Ay, and I was with De Artigny, alone with him, and the joy of this was so deep that I came to a sudden realization of the truth––I loved him.
In a way I must have known this before, yet, not until that moment, did the fact dawn upon me in full acknowledgement. I sank my head on my hands, my breath quickened by surprise, by shame, and felt my cheeks burn. I loved him, and believed he loved me. I knew then that all the happiness of life centered in this one fact; while between us arose the shadow of Cassion, my husband. True I loved him not; true I was to him wife only in name; true our marriage was a thing of shame, yet no less a fact, no less a barrier. I was a La Chesnayne to whom honor was a religion; a Catholic bowing humbly to the vow of Holy Church; a Frenchwoman taught that marriage was a sacred rite.
The knowledge of my love for De Artigny brought me more fear than pleasure. I dare not dream, or hope; I must escape his presence while I retained moral 236 strength to resist temptation. I got to my feet, not knowing what I could do, yet with a wild conception of returning to the beach, and seeking to find a passage southward. I would go now along the shore, before De Artigny came back, and meet those returning canoes. In such action lay my only safety––he would find me gone, would trace me along the sand, yet before I could be caught, I would have met the others, and thus escape the peril of being alone with him again.
Even as I reached this decision, something arose in my throat and choked me, for my eyes saw just outside the curve of the shore-line, a canoe emerge from the shadows of the bluff. I cannot picture the reaction, the sudden shrinking fear which, in that instant, mastered me. They were coming, seeking me; coming to drag me back into slavery; coming to denounce De Artigny of crime, and demand his life.
I know not which thought dominated me––my own case, or his; but I realized instantly what course Cassion would pursue. His hatred of De Artigny would be fanned into flame by discovery that we were alone together. He possessed the power, the authority to put this man forever out of his way. To save him there remained but one possible plan––he must reach Fort St. Louis, and friends before Cassion could bring him to trial. It was in my power to permit his escape 237 from discovery, mine alone. If I did otherwise I should be his murderer.