cept for
blackened stumps of fire-devastated woods, and brown rocks, while in
every other direction the river spread wide in sullen flow. There was
no sound but the dip of the paddles and the heavy breathing.

As the sun forced its way through the obscuring cloud, the mist rose
slowly, and drifted aside, giving me glimpse of the canoe in advance,
although it remained indistinct, a vague speck in the waste of water.
I sat motionless gazing about at the scene, yet vaguely comprehending
the nature of our surroundings. My mind reviewed the strange events of
the past night, and endeavored to adjust itself to my new environment.
Almost in an instant of time my life had utterly changed--I had been
married and exiled; wedded to a man whom I despised, and forced to
accompany him into the unknown wilderness. It was like a dream, a
delirium of fever, and even yet I could not seem to comprehend its
dread reality. But the speeding canoes, the strange faces, the
occasional sound of Cassion's voice, the slumbering figure of Chevet
was evidence of truth not to be ignored, and ahead yonder, a mere
outline, was the boat which contained De Artigny. What would he say,
or do, when he learned the truth? Would he care greatly? Had I read
rightly the message of his eyes? Could I have trust, and confidence in
his loyalty? Would he accept my explanation! or would he condemn me
for this act in which I was in no wise to blame? Mother of God! it
came to me that it was not so much Monsieur Cassion I feared, as the
Sieur de Artigny. What would be his verdict? My heart seemed to stop
its beating, and tears dimmed my eyes, as I gazed across the water at
that distant canoe. I knew then that all my courage, all my hope,
centered on his decision--the decision of the man I loved.

CHAPTER VII

THE TWO MEN MEET

I could not have slept, although I must have lost consciousness of our
surroundings, for I was aroused by Cassion's voice shouting some
command, and became aware that we were making landing on the river
bank. The sun was two hours high, and the spot selected a low
grass-covered point, shaded by trees. Chevet had awakened, sobered by
his nap, and the advance canoe had already been drawn up on the shore,
the few soldiers it contained busily engaged in starting fires with
which to cook our morning meal.

I perceived De Artigny with my first glance, standing erect on the
bank, his back toward us, directing the men in their work. As we shot