Flora divined the truth instantly, and all her self-control could not prevent an agitated heaving of her bosom and a sudden pallor of the cheeks.
“Oh, Denzil, is it—” she began.
“Yes; it is Griffith Hawke,” I broke in savagely.
“Be brave!” she whispered. “Our paths lie apart—do not make it harder for me.”
Our eyes met in a look that spoke volumes, and then there was a sudden uproar as the factor and his companions joined our party. I heard my name called and soon Griffith Hawke’s hand was locked in mine and he was pouring out a torrent of eager words.
“And is this Miss Hatherton, my boy?” he asked suddenly.
I introduced him briefly and he made her a low and respectful bow. What he said to Flora or how she greeted him I do not know. But as I turned on my heel I stole a glance at the girl and I saw that she was struggling hard to keep her composure. The sun was shining brightly but the world looked dark and black to my eyes.
As soon as the excitement of the meeting was over Gummidge and I gave the factor a coherent story of our adventures; and the narrative brought a grave and troubled expression to his face.
“I will speak of these matters later,” he said. “The first thing is to get back to the fort. The wounded voyageur needs immediate attention. My canoe is a large one and will hold us all.”
“But where were you bound?” I asked. “To Fort York? You sent word that you were not coming.”