In my room that night I reasoned out my whole position calmly from the beginning, and with a chilling fear I saw myself confronted by a new humiliation.
Had I not in my infatuation misconstrued every little kindness on the part of Hugh, every expression of sympathy and of ordinary courtesy, nay, every smile, and look, and word, into a language which existed only in my credulous imagination? Had he ever spoken a single word of love to me? Had he not even refused to answer my girlish appeal to him at our parting? Was it, then, possible that I was not only in a false position now, but that I had throughout been playing that most contemptible of all rôles—the infatuated woman who imagines herself beloved by one indifferent to her? I was overwhelmed with shame at the thought, still, turn it as I might, I could not see that it admitted of any other conclusion.
Yet ignominious as it all was, it must be faced, for it was impossible that I should go on lamenting or living in the misery of constant self-reproach. If I had had the courage to defy the world in my Quixote endeavour to right the supposed wrongs of another, should I not put forth some measure of the same courage to protect myself? Because I had met with a disaster humbling to my self-respect and pride, surely I was not forced to proclaim my own defeat to the world, and thus add ridicule to humiliation. Cost what it might, I determined to put forth every endeavour to prevent Hugh even suspecting the true motive of my presence in Canada until the time should come when I might return in safety.
It cost me an effort to return to Lucy. I had almost a dislike to see her again, but my pride came to my support, and, when I went, I saw I had exaggerated the difficulty, for I found a different creature awaiting me. Whatever suffering I had gone through, it was clear this poor soul had gained some great relief, and my selfishness was not proof against her content. She had forgotten that I had been beside her when Hugh had entered. The greatness of his revelation, whatever it had been, had swept away all smaller things, and she lay there with a new light in her face, but as quiet and self-contained as before. Had she spoken, I could not have borne it.
My courage in respect to Hugh was not immediately put to the proof, as he had been ordered off to Montreal, there to join M. de Lévis as aide-de-camp, and I had both time and freedom for decision.
Much to Angélique's delight, I now accompanied her to all the balls and junketings that went on, for I had nothing further to fear, and, alas, nothing to hope. M. de Montcalm and the others received me with warm welcome, and made a small ovation over my appearance.
I suffered, however, as is often the case with a newcomer in a small society, from the stupid jealousy of some of the women, who resented my appearance as an intruder, and who more than once started reports as to my position, which were rendered the more persistent on account of the open championship of M. de Montcalm.
At first I thought little of this petty annoyance, but was not prepared for the length to which some were willing to carry it.
Late one afternoon Angélique burst in upon me in a storm of indignation:
“Marguerite, I am ashamed of my countrywomen! There has been a scene this afternoon at Mme. de Beaubassin's which went beyond all limits of decency. Neither your position as a stranger nor mine as your friend was respected. It is horrible what animals women can be when once they begin! Let me tell you what has happened, and see if I am wrong!