“None,” he answered; and the one word sank into my heart like a knell. He parted from me at the church door, and I wandered down to the beach alone.
The loss of Louisbourg, as even I could see, might mean the loss of Canada, and, in the priest's eyes at least, its loss was due not so much to the weakness of the garrison as to the failure of the relief, and this relief could have come only by the man who had withstood his commands, holding out a shameful condition as the price of his obedience. Whether le père Jean was right or wrong I could not judge, but I surely knew he could but lay the source of this dishonour to the wilful act of the woman he had rescued and befriended in her hour of need.
The news of the gallant defence of Carillon went far to offset the disaster of Louisbourg, but not to allay our anxiety, and September was a trying month for us all; but Gabriel visited us twice, and was unshaken in his confidence.
“Time enough to cry out when we are beaten, madame. We have held them back at Carillon, and will do so again, if need be; they have been beaten in the Upper Country before this, and they will be clever indeed if they can come up the river.”
“They did so once before, Gabriel.”
“'Une fois n'est pas coutume,' madame; pilots cannot be picked up like pease.”
I expected word from le père Jean every day, and awaited it with conflicting feelings. I was most anxious to know the truth about Hugh, and yet to meet him was past my desire, if he were really married. Should that prove the case, then I would use my utmost effort to return to France without his knowing I had ever been in the country. Should he discover it, then I must bear the humiliation as best I might; but I could not bring myself to go away, and perhaps wreck my future as well as his, through a misunderstanding. I felt I had gone too far, had suffered too much, to throw it all away when the truth was within my reach.
In the beginning of October Gabriel came with the expected letter from le père Jean. Mme. de Sarennes and Angélique had gone on to Quebec to spend the winter there, and I was expected to join them whenever it might be convenient. I took affectionate farewells of my good friend, Mme. Dufour, and the infant population of the parish, and set forth with Gabriel. We made a grand run of it, and were in full view of the town before the sun had quite set. I had seen no place, except perhaps Edinburgh, with which I could compare it, and Quebec gained in the comparison. Gabriel saw my admiration, and was delighted.
“Look at it well, madame; it is the gate of the finest country le bon Dieu ever created, and we hold the key! No man need have a faint heart when he can look on Quebec. See the little fort there on the top of the Cape! It was made to signal a King's ships only. See the Château where it stands! It looks like the Governor himself. See the steeples of the Cathedral, of the Jesuits, of the Recollets! See the convents and the hospitals! It is like the Holy City of God! And then talk, if one can, of it falling into the hands of 'les goddams' and 'les Bostonnais.' Bah! It is impossible! If not, what is the use of going to church on Sunday?”
Truly he had every excuse for his pride; and when I looked on the majestic river, barred by the mighty cliff with its glittering crown of roofs and spires overlooking the beautiful sweep of the St. Charles, I felt that his outburst was more of a declaration than a boast.