“Now that we have confidence in each other, may I ask why you never let me know of your presence in Canada?”
“To be frank, I had no desire to awaken old associations. So far as I knew the past was a book that had been read and done with. Nothing was to be gained by reopening it under the same conditions, and I had no reason to suppose they could be altered. Remember it is only now my eyes have been opened, and I see the error of my warped and ignorant judgment. We have travelled a long road, Chevalier, to meet in friendship, and I am glad we can so meet at last. I always regret when my feeling towards an honourable man cannot go beyond mere liking.”
“Gaston,” I cried, “I never received so handsome a compliment in all my life!”
[CHAPTER XXVIII]
I MAKE A FALSE MOVE
I can make no pretence to marshal the train of thought that swept through my brain when the priest took his way and left me to myself. Engrossed as I was with my own affairs, I could not but speculate on the curious chance that had driven him into a life of renunciation and me to one of exile at the same time and for the same cause, and that now brought us together before the woman we both loved. I use the word advisedly and without any reflection on his integrity; but it would be an insult to my intelligence could I look on his face, worn by suffering and emotion, and mark the tone of his voice, and, most confirmatory of all, the jealous care with which he avoided any mention of her name, and not acknowledge the presence there of the gentlest passion that ever refined the soul of man. He had found abundant opportunity for self-denial and sacrifice in the career he had chosen, but I doubted if he had found either peace or entire resignation. During his interview with General Murray, and especially during his familiar talk with me, I had caught a dozen reflections of his old bearing and manner, and I could not believe he had laid aside all human longings and emotions, however he might refuse to recognise them, when he doffed the outward habit of his class for the soutane and shovel hat of the Jesuit. It were childish to think so.
Thus occupied I sate heedless of the hours that went by, until chilled by the change of the day to evening. As I moved slowly towards my quarters, the only result of the hours of solitary thought that remained by me, was that Margaret was unmarried, and that she had come out to meet with me and for this alone.
That same evening I paid my respects to the Superior, la mère do la Nativité, a well-bred woman, who should have graced the world rather than a convent, and to her I proffered my request that I might be allowed to wait upon Mme. de St. Just.
“Most certainly, monsieur, if it be her desire. She is a guest to whom we owe much. If you will permit, I will send and inquire.”
In a few moments the sister sent returned with word that Mme. de St. Just would see the Chevalier de Maxwell at eleven the next morning.