“Good; there will be naught to fear, Madame, for I will be below to aid your footing. When I give the signal again Rene will descend and join us.”
“The rope is to be left dangling?”
“Only until I return. Once I leave you safe beyond the Iroquois, ’tis my part to climb this rope again. Some task that,” cheerfully, “yet De Tonty deems it best that no evidence connect us with this escape. What make you the hour?”
“Between one and two.”
“Which will give me time before daydawn; so here, I chance it.”
He swung himself over the edge, and slipped silently down into the black mystery. We leaned over to watch, but could see nothing, our only evidence of his progress, the jerking of the cord. De Artigny’s hand closed on mine.
“Dear,” he whispered tenderly, “we are alone now––you are sorry?”
“I am happier than I have ever been in my life,” I answered honestly. “I have done what I believe to be right, and trust God. All I care to know now is that you love me.”
“With every throb of my heart,” he said solemnly. “It is my love which makes me dread lest you regret.”