My heart sank at the word. I could not go to Canard,—I could not face Mizpah again, till I could go to her with Philip in my arms. I had hoped that he was restored to her ere this. What had happened? Had Big Etienne deceived me? And Xavier, too? I could not think it. Yet what else could I think?
"Ah, my friend," said I, with bitterness, "she will be grievously disappointed in me. She will say I promise much, and perform little. And alas, it seems even so. I have not seen or heard of the child. But has Big Etienne come back? Surely he has not come back without the child?"
Tamin, it was plain, had heard the whole story from Marc, for he asked no questions, and showed no surprise.
"No," said he, "they're both away, Big Etienne and Xavier, gone nigh onto four months. Some says to Gaspé; some says to Saguenay. Who knows? They're Injuns!" And Tamin shrugged his shoulders, while his honest little eyes grew beady with distrust.
But I no more distrusted, and my heart lightened mightily. They had been checked, baffled perhaps, for weeks; but I felt that they were faithful and would succeed. I resolved that the moment this enterprise of de Villiers' was accomplished I would go to help them. But I had yet more questions for Tamin.
"And the Black Abbé?" I asked. "Where is he?"
"At Baie Verte, minding his store, or at Cobequid with his red lambs," replied Tamin, puckering his wide mouth drolly. "He is little at Chignecto since he met you there, Monsieur. And he has not been seen at Canard since Giraud's cabin grew so hospitable. But Grûl is much in the neighbourhood. I think the Black Abbé fears him."
Remembering the awful scene on the cliffs of the des Saumons, I felt that Tamin's surmise was fairly founded; and I blessed the strange being who thus kept watch over those whom I loved. But I said nothing to Tamin of what was in my mind, thinking it became me to keep Grûl's counsel.