fair," I burst forth impetuously. "You will see but
the one side--that of the man. I cannot fight this battle with my
hands, nor will I submit to such wrong without struggle. He has never
thought to spare me, and there is no reason why I should show him
mercy. I wish your good will, Monsieur, your respect, but I cannot
hold this plan which I propose as evil. Do you?"

He hesitated, looking at me with such perplexity in his eyes as to
prove his doubt.

"I cannot judge you," he admitted at last, "only that is not the way
in which I have been trained. Neither will I stand between you and
your revenge, nor have part in it. I am your friend--now, always. In
every honorable way I will serve you, and your cause. If Cassion dares
violence, or insult he must reckon with me, though I faced his whole
company. I pledge you this, but I will not play a part, or act a lie
even at your request."

"You mean you will not pretend to care for me?" I asked, my heart
leaden at his words.

"There would be no pretense," he answered frankly. "I do care for you,
but I will not dishonor my thought of you by thus deliberately
scheming to outwit your husband. I am a man of the woods, the
wilderness; not since I was a boy have I dwelt in civilization, but in
all that time I have been companion of men to whom honor was
everything. I have been comrade with Sieur de la Salle, with Henri de
Tonty, and cannot be guilty of an act of treachery even for your sake.
Perchance my code is not the same as the perfumed gallants of
Quebec--yet it is mine, and learned in a hard school."

He went on quietly, "there are two things I cannot ignore--one is,
that I am an employee of this Francois Cassion, pledged to his service
by my own free will; the other is, that you are his wife, joined to
him by Holy Church, and although you may have assumed those vows under
coercion, your promise is binding. I can but choose my path of duty,
and abide therein."

His words hurt, angered me; I lacked power of expression, ability to
grasp his full meaning and purpose.

"You--you desert me then? You--you leave me to this fate?"

"I leave you to reconsider your choice of action," he returned
gravely, his hat still in hand, his lips unsmiling. "I do believe your
womanhood will find a better way to achieve its liberty, but what that
way is I must trust you to discover. I am your friend, Adele,
always--you will believe that?"

I did not answer; I could not, because of the cho