"You cannot be angry," I continued gravely, after pausing vainly for a reply. "Surely I have said no more than you already knew, and I spoke merely in answer to your questioning."
"No, I am not angry. But it is not a pleasant reflection underlying the things mentioned, and I cannot assert your judgment of the Chevalier false. Still I would press you further. Is this your only reason for desiring me to remain?"
"You wish me to answer frankly?"
"Otherwise I should not ask."
I felt the quick flush mount even to my hair, yet gripped my breath, making effort to respond boldly.
"I had other reason. To deny it would be merely uttering a lie to no purpose. Madame de Noyan, we are not strangers—we could never be after that night when we parted beneath the olives of Monsieur Beaujen's garden. You are wife to a chevalier of France; I, a homeless adventurer. Yet I have no higher ambition than to prove of service to you. Whatever I have accomplished has been entirely for your sake, not for his. Now we are together, the daily opportunity to serve you is mine; here I can work for you, perchance die for you, should such sacrifice promise you happiness. But if you decide to go back yonder, directly into danger as desperate as any confronting us to the northward, then I must determine for myself where I can serve you best. Knowing my heart as you must, you can easily judge whether I would plunge deeper into the wilderness with your husband, or return to New Orleans with you. There is a sentence in the Bible about the impossibility of serving two masters, hence I trust I may not be compelled to choose between, until the hour when you are both safe."
She listened silently, and I almost feared I had ventured upon too plain speaking. Yet now, as she turned again toward me, her eyes were moist with tears.
"You are a strange man, Geoffrey Benteen," she said gently, and, I know not how, yet both her hands found way to mine. "I scarcely comprehend your nature, or gauge your purposes—you are so unlike all others I have known. Yet this I am assured; you are of honest heart, and I trust you wholly."
"You will not return to the town?"
"I abide with you, and with my husband." Her voice faltered to that last word, yet she spoke it bravely.