“Did you never think for one moment of me? Of my devotion to him and his cause? Did not my regard, my affection even, weigh for one moment with you?” she went on, excitedly.
“Marguerite, Marguerite! This is cruel! This is unjust! I worship you as I have never worshipped woman, and at this moment you are breaking my heart!”
“You have broken mine,” she answered, coldly, and turning, walked slowly out of the room.
He stood with his face like marble.
Then Lady Jane rose, and laying her hand on his shoulder, said: “Gaston, I never thought more of you in my life, and the mother who bore you may well be proud of such a son. Margaret is but a child; when she thinks over what has happened, she will see matters in their true light. Girls' hearts do not break so easily. My own would have flown in pieces a thousand times if it had followed my imaginations,” she said, gayly; and then more tenderly, “Be patient with her, Gaston; she is only a child.”
But he shook his head sadly without reply.
“My dear Vicomte,” I said, “I know you have cause to look on me with no friendly eye; but believe me, I can echo every word my cousin has spoken. I can only admire and hope for such courage myself; and that I may prove the sincerity of my profession, I will withdraw entirely from a scene where I am only a disturbance. I have no thought, no hope of winning Margaret for myself. I will volunteer for service in Canada at once, and at least shall not have the regret of standing in the way of one I honour so highly.”
To all of which he said little, but that little so direct and feeling that we stepped out into the rue Dauphine together, more nearly friends than we had ever been.
[CHAPTER VIII]
HOW I MAKE BOTH FRIENDS AND ENEMIES IN NEW FRANCE