Chapter XXV
Over Gaspereau Ridge
“Monsieur Waldron!” cried Yvonne faintly.
“You here, Mademoiselle de Lamourie!” he exclaimed, with a surprise thathis courtesy could not quite conceal.
“This, monsieur,” she said, in a brave confusion, “is my friend, herefor a moment because of my foolish desire to see him. I beg you”—
But he interrupted, reluctantly enough:
“It hurts me, mademoiselle, to have to say that your friend is myprisoner. If I were free to please you, he should go free.”
The case was clearly beyond mending, so I would not condescend toevasion.
“I can do nothing but surrender, monsieur,” said I civilly, “under theconclusive arbitrament of your muskets. Here is my sword.” He took it,and I went on:
“I am Captain Paul Grande, of the French army in Canada.”
His face changed.
“A spy, then!” he said harshly.
“You insult with impunity,” I began. “An unarmed”—
But Yvonne broke in, her eyes flaming:
“How dare you, sir, insult _me_? That is not to be done with impunity, Ithink.”
The man looked puzzled. Then his face cleared somewhat.
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” he said slowly, looking from her faceto mine. “I begin to understand a little, I think. There _is_ a verysufficient reason why a French officer might appear in an enemy’scountry without his uniform—that country being Grand Pré—and yet be nospy!”
“I give you my word of honour,” said I, “that I am no spy, but merelyyour prisoner. And if brought to trial I will prove what I say.”
“I beg _your_ pardon also—provisionally,” he replied, with a pleasantair. “I am the last to believe a gentleman a spy, and I am confident youwill clear yourself of the unavoidable charge. You are a soldier. Youmust see it to be unavoidable,” he added.
“I do, monsieur,” said I sorrowfully. “I have lain for months, woundedand delirious, in a hiding-place not far off, nursed by a faithfulfriend. Having just recovered, I came here for a farewell to dearfriends; and you have arrived inopportunely, monsieur.”
There was the bitterness of final despair beneath the lightness which Iassumed.
“Your action seems to me very pardonable, I assure you,” said he. “But Iam not the judge. We must go.” And he motioned his men to me.
But Yvonne came close to my side and laid her hand lightly on my arm.
“It is my wish, Monsieur Waldron,” she said, “that Captain Grande shouldescort me, with your assistance, and that of your guard also, if youwill!”
“Why, certainly, mademoiselle, it shall be as you wish,” he said, with aghost of a smile, which set her blushing wildly. “I have CaptainGrande’s sword and his”—
“And my word,” said I, bowing.
“And his parole,” he continued. “I need in no way constrain him till wereach the—the chapel. I will lead my men a little in the rear, andstrive not to interrupt your conversation.”
“I can never thank you enough for your courtesy, monsieur,” said I.
So it came that a strange procession marched up the Gaspereau Ridge,through the bleak twilight. And the hilltop drew swiftly near—and mylast few minutes sped—and I was dumb. Still, she was at my side. Andperhaps my silence spoke. But when we crossed the ridge, and the chapelprison appeared, and Yvonne’s house some way apart, my tongue foundspeech;—but not argument, only wild entreaties, adorations, words thatmade her body tremble, though not, alas! her will.
At length she stopped.
“You must go back to them now, Paul. I will go on alone. Good-by, dear!”
“But we are not near the house,” I stammered.
“Monsieur Anderson may come out to meet me. If he sees you now, before Ichange my conditions, how shall I escape the instant fulfilment of mypromise?”
“But I am not safe, surely,” I argued.
“His testimony can at once make you safe,” said she.
My heart dropped, feeling the truth of her words. I could say nothingthat I had not already said. Feeling impotent, feeling that utter defeathad been hurled upon me in the very moment of triumph, my brain seemedto stop working.
“What will you do?” was all that came through my dry lips.
She had grown much older in the last hour.
“I will wait, Paul, as I promised you,” she said sadly; “one year—no,two years—before I redeem my pledge and become his wife. That is all Ican do—and that I _can_ do. I choose to believe that you would haveobeyed me and gone away at once, if we had not been interrupted.Therefore I keep my promise to you. It was not your fault that you werenot permitted to obey me.”
I was quite at the end of my tether, though my resolution rose again tofull stature on learning that I should have time—time to plan anew. Sheheld out her hand. “Good-by, and God keep you, my dear friend!” said shevery softly.
I looked around. The squad had halted near by. Some were looking, cursethem! But that most decent officer had his back turned, and was intentlyscanning the weather. I lifted her hand to my lips.
“My—wife!” I muttered, unfalteringly obstinate.
“No!” she said sadly. “Only your friend. Oh, leave me that!”
And she was gone, a Psyche glimmering away through the dark which stroveto cling to her.
I stood for a moment, eyes and heart straining after her. Then I turnedas the guard came up.
“At your service, monsieur,” said I.
A Sister to Evangeline Page 26
