h a bow, announced himself. As Cazeneau looked up, he
appeared for a moment struck with involuntary respect by the
venerable appearance of this man, or there may have been something
else at work in him; but, whatever the cause, he regarded the priest
attentively for a few moments, without saying a word.

"Pere Michel," said he, at length, "I have called you before me in
private, to come to an understanding with you. Had I followed my own
impulses, I would have ordered your arrest, on my entrance into
Louisbourg, as an accomplice of that young villain. I thought it
sufficient, however, to spare you for the present, and keep you under
surveillance. I am, on the whole, glad that I did not yield to my
first impulse of anger, for I can now, in perfect calmness, go with
you over your acts during the journey here, and ask you for an
explanation."

The priest bowed.

"Understand me, Pere Michel," said Cazeneau; "I have now no hard
feeling left. I may say, I have almost no suspicion. I wish to be
assured of your innocence. I will take anything that seems like a
plausible excuse. I respect your character, and would rather have you
as my friend than--than not."

The priest again bowed, without appearing at all affected by these
conciliatory words.

"After I was assassinated in the woods," said Cazeneau, "I was saved
from death by the skill and fidelity of my Indians. It seems to me
still, Pere Michel, as it seemed then, that something might have been
done by you. Had you been in league with my enemy, you could not have
done worse. You hastened forward with all speed, leaving me to my
fate. As a friend, you should have turned back to save a friend; as a
priest, you should have turned back to give me Christian burial. What
answer have you to make to this?"

"Simply this," said the priest, with perfect calmness: "that when you
left us you gave orders that we should go on, and that you would find
your way to us. I had no thought of turning back, or waiting. I knew
the Indians well, and knew that they can find their way through the
woods as easily as you can through the streets of Paris. I went
forward, then, without any thought of waiting for you, thinking that
of course you would join us, as you said."

"When did Motier come up with you?" asked Cazeneau.

"On the following day," answered the priest.

"Did he inform you what had taken place?"

"He did."

"Why, then, did you not turn back to help me?"

"Because Motier