"I have not said who I may be," she answered evasively. "Whatever name I may once have borne was long ago forgotten, and to the simple children about me I am only Sister Celeste. 'T is enough to live by in this wilderness, and the recording angel of God knows whether even that is worthy. But I have been waiting to learn why you are here, creeping through the bushes like a savage! Nor do I believe you to be altogether alone. Was there not one with you yonder at the house? Why did he cry out so loudly, and fall?"
"He imagined he saw a ghost within. He claimed to have recognized the face of a dead woman he once knew."
"A dead woman? What is the man's name? Who is he?"
"Captain de Croix, an officer of the French army."
She sighed quickly, as if relieved, one hand pressed against her forehead, and sat thinking.
"I know not the name, but it seems strange that the chance sight of my face should work such havoc with his nerves. Spoke he not even the name of the woman?"
"I think he cried some name as he fell, but I recall it not."
"And you? You are only seeking a way of escape from the savages?"
For a moment I hesitated; but surely, I thought, this strange young woman was of white blood, and seemingly an enthusiast in the religion I also professed, and I might safely trust her with my purpose.
"I am seeking entrance within the encampment, hoping thus to rescue a maiden whom I believe to be prisoner in the hands of the Indians."