Louisbourg, madame;
mais, 'qui se tient a Paris, ne sera jamais pape,' and your face
is not in the right direction. If you would be there, madame, I
would engage to find you a way in the teeth of all 'les goddams'
who ever chewed rosbif. But I forget; we are going to Quebec," he
ended, slyly, evidently desirous that I should talk.

This, however, I would not do, but he had given me matter enough
to keep me awake by night and set me anxiously dreaming by day.

Why had the priest been so determined to keep me from Louisbourg?
Now that I thought it over, I saw that I had never urged my wish
at all. I had allowed my whole purpose to be swept aside at his
first firm refusal to consider my request. And all this time Hugh
was in danger, while I had turned my back upon him. If not in
danger now, he certainly would be in the spring, and all my effort,
with those weary miles of sea again between us, would be unavailing
for his recall. Indeed, he would probably refuse to leave his post
if it were threatened by an enemy. Why had I consented? Why was I
even now lengthening the heart-breaking distance between us with
every coward mile I travelled? Why had I not pleaded with le pere
Jean, instead of obeying blindly, like a child? He had not known
the real danger, perhaps, or his advice would have been different.

Could I have spoken freely with Lucy, I might have gained some
comfort; but, alas! my lips were sealed towards her. How could I
expect her to understand even if I could speak? My distress she
would readily comprehend, but she could not possibly know anything
of such a love as Hugh's; so I was forced to take the sympathy of
her silent companionship, making her such return as I might.

Gabriel, I grew almost afraid of; he questioned me so cunningly,
without seeming to do so, that I was in constant dread lest I should
betray my secret and declare the desire which was consuming me. It
was a relief when I could turn his curiosity and lead him to talk
of his own life and the places we passed; for the wilderness of
hills of the North Shore, to which we had crossed, was broken here
and there by settlements, as at Les Eboulements, where the tiny
church and village nestled by the water's edge at the foot of
mountains rising and rolling back to purple heights behind. We were
here shut out from the main river by the wooded shores of the Isle
aux Coudres, which Gabriel regarded with peculiar pride, as somewhere
on its farther side st