“But she said you were a spy, in so many words.”
“You do not think so?”
“Oh, Marguerite!” she cried, as she jumped up and strained me to her, covering me with kisses.
“Well, neither does your mother, nor M. de Montcalm, nor any of the gentlemen who defended me this afternoon. My only regret is that I should be the cause of annoyance to such friends.”
Though I spake bravely enough, I could not but feel the effect of such a report, nor fail to recognise there was oftentimes a galling restraint on my appearance, which was only aggravated by the too evident efforts of my champions towards its dissipation.
But all such social jealousies and plottings were scattered by the approach of spring, when an unending activity pervaded all classes throughout the colony. The arrival of the first ships was looked for with anxiety, as they would bring the message of peace, or renewed hostilities, which to me meant either escape or a continuance of my difficulties.
It was M. Joannès who brought me the news:
“Well, madame, it seems it is to be war! But instead of money, they have sent us some scanty provisions; and instead of a regiment, some raw recruits to drag out this weary farce, already too long.”
“I am sorry you do not look at it more hopefully, monsieur.”
“How can I? Think what has happened since last spring. Louisbourg, Frontenac, Duquesne, all lost; famine in our towns; misery in the country; an insane jealousy on the part of the officials which thwarts every move we suggest; corruption to an extent that is almost beyond belief, and on every side of us an active, strong, and enthusiastic enemy. That is the only quarter where we look for fair play!” he ended, with the laugh of a boy who sees his sport before him.