“Surely, my dear girl. He was here with La Salle before his chief sailed for France, and yesterday he came again, and questioned me.”
“Questioned you?”
“Yes; he sought knowledge of you, and of why you were in the household of Chevet. I liked the young man, and told him all I knew, of your father’s death and the decree of the court, and of how Chevet compelled you to leave the convent. I felt him to be honest and true, and that his purpose was worthy.”
“And he mentioned Cassion?”
“Only that he had arranged to guide him into the wilderness. But I knew he thought ill of the man.”
I hesitated, for as a child I had felt awe of Sister Celeste, yet her questioning eyes were kind, and we were alone. Here was my chance, my only chance, and I dare not lose it. Her face appeared before me misty through tears, yet words came bravely enough to my lips.
“Sister, you must hear me,” I began bewildered, “I have no mother, no friend even to whom to appeal; I am just a girl all alone. I despise this man Cassion; I do not know why, but he seems to be like a snake, and I cannot bear his presence. I would rather die than marry him. I do not think Chevet trusts him, either, but he has some hold, and compels him to sell me as though I was a slave in the market. I am to be made to marry him. I pray you let me see this Sieur de Artigny that I may tell him all, and beseech his aid.”
“But why De Artigny, my girl? What is the boy to you?”
“Nothing––absolutely nothing,” I confessed frankly. “We have scarcely spoken together, but he is a gallant of true heart; he will never refuse aid to a maid like me. It will be joy for him to outwit this enemy of La Salle’s. All I ask is that I be permitted to tell him my story.”