een Cassion never
seriously occurred to me, but I ran over in my mind the rough men of
our party--the soldiers, some of them quarrelsome enough, and the
Indians to whom a treacherous blow was never unnatural. This must have
been the way it happened--Chevet had made some bitter enemy, for he
was ever prodigal of angry word and blow, and the fellow had followed
him through the night to strike him down from behind. But why did De
Artigny fail to sound an alarm when he found the body? Why was he
hiding about the mission house, and peering in through the window?

I sank my face in my hands, so dazed and bewildered as to be incapable
of thought--yet I could not, I would not believe him guilty of so foul
a crime. It was not possible, nor should he be accused through any
testimony from my lips. He could explain, he must explain to me his
part in this dreadful affair, but, unless he confessed himself, I
would never believe him guilty. There was but one thing for me to
do--return silently to my room, and wait. Perhaps he had already
descended to camp to alarm the men; if not the body would be early
discovered in the morning, and a few hours delay could make no
difference to Hugo Chevet.

The very decision was a relief, and yet it frightened me. I felt
almost like an accomplice, as though I also was guilty of a crime by
thus concealing my knowledge, and leaving that body to remain alone
there in the dark. Yet there was nothing else to do. Shrinking,
shuddering at every shadow, at every sound, my nerves throbbing with
agony, I managed to drag my body up the logs, and in through the
window. I was safe there, but there was no banishing from memory what
I had seen--what I knew lay yonder in the wood shadow. I sank to the
floor, clutching the sill, my eyes staring through the moonlight. Once
I thought I saw a man's indistinct figure move across an open space,
and once I heard voices far away.

The priests entered the room opposite mine, and I could distinguish
the murmur of their voices through the thin partition. These became
silent, and I prayed, with head bowed on the window sill. I could not
leave that position, could not withdraw my eyes from the scene
without. The moon disappeared, the night darkening; I could no longer
perceive the line of forest trees, and sitting thus I fell asleep from
sheer exhaustion.

I do not know that I was called, yet when I awoke a faint light
proclaiming the dawn was in the sky, and sounds of act