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Show F i I Beyond the Pronuer K y the Middle West g By RANDALL PARRISH "He believes that you feel interest in me?" 'I have never denied it; the f;iet which rankles, however, is his knowledge knowl-edge that 1 feel no interest whatever in him. But we waste time, monsieur, iu fruitless discussion. Our only course is a discovery of Hugo Chevet's real murderer. Know you anything to warrant war-rant suspicion?" D'Artigny did not answer at once, his eyes looking out on the white crested waters of the lake. "No, madame." be said at length gravely. "The last time Chevet was seen alive, so far as 1 now know, was when he left the boats iu company with Monsieur Cassiou to return to the Mission house. Could there be any reason why Cassiou should desire the death of Chevet?" "I know of uone. My uncle felt bitter oyer the concealment of my fortune, for-tune, and no doubt the two had exchanged ex-changed words, but there was no open quarrel. Chevet was rough and bead-strong, bead-strong, yet he was not killed in tight, for the knife thrust was from behind." "Ay, a coward's blow. Chevet possessed no papers of value?" I shook my head. "If so, no mention was ever made to me. But, ' monsieur, you are still wet, and must be col J in this wind. Why do you not build the tire, and dry your clothing?" "The -wind does have an icy feel," he admitted, "but this is a poor spot. Up yonder in the wood shadow there is more warmth, and besides it affords af-fords better outlook for the canoes. Have you strength now to climb the bluff?" "The path did not appear difficult, and it is dreary enough here. I will try." I did not even require his aid, and was at the top nearly as soon as he. It was a pleasant spot, a heavy forest growing almost to the edge, but with green carpet of grass on which one could rest, and gaze off across the wide waste of waters. When I finally fin-ally turned away I found that D'Artigny D'Arti-gny had already lighted a fire with Hint and steel in a little hollow within the forest. He called to me to Join him. , "There Is nothing to see," he said, "and the warmth is welcome. ' You had no glimpse of the boats?" "No," I admitted. "Do you really believe they survived?" "There wTas no reason why they should not. if properly handled. I have controlled canoes in far worse storms. They are doubtless safely ashore beyond the point yonder. You are not afraid to be left alone?" "No." in surprise. "Where are you going?" "To learn more of our surroundings and arrange some traps for wild game. I will not be away long, but someone should remain here to signal any canoe returning in search." I watched him disappear among the trees without regret or slightest sense of fear at thus being left alone. The fire burned brightly and I rested where the grateful warmth put new life into my body. The silence was profound, depressing, and a sense of intense loneliness stole over me. I felt a desire to got away from the gloom of the woods, and climbed the bank to where I could look out once more across the waters. The view outspread before me revealed re-vealed nothing new; the same dread waste of water extended to the horizon, hori-zon, while down the shore no movement move-ment was visible. As I rested there, oppressed by the loneliness, I felt little hope that the others of our party had escaped without disaster. D'Artigny did not believe his own words; I even suspected that he had gone now alone to explore the shore line; seeking to discover the truth and the real fate of our companions. At first this conception of our situation startled me. and yet, strange as it may : seem, my realization brought no deep regret. I was conscious of a feeling of freedom, of liberty, such as had not been mine since we departed from Quebec. I was no longer watched, spied upon, my every movement ordered, or-dered, my speech criticized. More, I was delivered from the hated presence of Cassiou, ever reminding me that I was his wife, and continually threatening threaten-ing to exercise his authority. Ay. and I was with D'Artigny, alone with him. and the joy of this was so dc-p that I came to a sudden realization of the truth I loved him. SYNOPSIS. 10 Af!tlfl la rh'-sri;iyn-, Ji Im1. of Nnw I'rJtn.-.-. is fori t-l 1 1 1 : i n;. v.-A- wait f 'olnflllfi.iilr! '.i.-'MOIL, h'-IH i I J 1 1 : L Tl (if ;uv:riioi- J;l 1 V.x ri .-. whr in pl'l 1 lutf t" oust La Sail; i rid his K.iri-iHHi I'min (lie-fr.jtil (lie-fr.jtil i.:r f'nM SI. I,'. in.-,, ,:i ti.: JUinuis rlvm. Adt-lu h.nl nvt-rli.-ar.l Hi" pl-ni.-rs tiny hIh; h.ni inherit. -1 a nif;tt t.-rtini" from li'-r father and th-.y It..-! h pt it from hiir. I, it Unrrt: and ';i ssmjm lfcarned Of tin; KN'I'H knowledge-. I lill.H tile H.iir- rhio funl tho itiii-riud dr-pari nre of ('i-;-Hion and a -nmjo ny f'r Kurt St. Louis. The hridu ffn-cN to sh;tr sle.-pin (piarti rs with her hushund. She has IhjL one t'rh nd. yoitn' iO-ru- TV A i t i '-'n y, a f,'iid.. lie is chary of helping her. ;hovet, rhe tflrTM uncle, one of ihe i-.tr-ty, Ih found rnunKrcd. A (i. rce slurm Hc;i Her s anil wrecks the, buat.s. Ad. lu is rescued. 5 i S There comes to Adele an op- ? portunity to escape a long life worse to her than the death which she has just escaped. Yet the spell of her marriage vow J forced though it was has a strong influence. The pendulum of misfortune has reached the end of its swing and seems to be returning to center. You will i find much of interest and the 5 J unfolding of a new mystery in f this installment. $ CHAPTER XIII Continued. ' "Lie still a moment." said a voice gently. "You will breathe easier shortly short-ly and regain strength." I knew m y 11 n go rs closed on the man's hand convulsively, but the water wa-ter yet blinded my eyes. He must have perceived this for he wiped my face with a cloth, and It was then I perceived his face clearly, and remembered. remem-bered. "The Sienr d'Artlgny!" I exclaimed. "Of course," he answered. "Who else should it be, madame? Tlease do not regret my privilege." "Your privilege; 'tis a strange word you choose, monsieur," I faltered, not yet having control of myself. "Surely I have granted none." "Perchance not, as there was small chance," he answered, evidently attempting at-tempting to speak lightly. "Nor could I wait to ask your leave; yet surely I may esteem it a privilege to bring y n ashore alive." ' .' t was you then who saved me? I 6L'tiL-Lvy understood, monsieur; I lost consciousness, and am dazed in mind. You leaped into the water from the canoe?" "Ws; there was no other course left me. My boat was beyond yours, a few yards farther out in the lake, "when the storm struck. We were partially par-tially prepared, for I felt assured there would be trouble. Never did I feel more deadly blast; no craft such as ours could face it. We were to your left and rear when your canoe capsized, cap-sized, and I bore down toward where you struggled in the water. An Indian In-dian got grip upon you as we swept by, hut the craft dipped so that he let go, and then 1 jumped, for we could ' never come Ivick. and that was the only chance. This is the whole story, madame. except that by Cod's help, I got you ashore." I locked into Ids face, impressed by the seriousness with which he spoke. "I I thank you. monsieur," I said, and held out my hand. "If was most gallant. Are we alone here? Whore are the others?" "I do iet know, madame." he an-pwei'v'il. an-pwei'v'il. his tone now that of formal courtesy. 'Tis hut a short time since we reached this spot, and the Btonn yet ragi s. May I help you to stand, so you may perceive better our situation." lie lii'ted me to my feet, and I stood erect, my cloihc dripping wet, and my limbs trembling so that I grasped his arm for support, .and glanced anxiously about. We were on a narrow sand beach, at the edge of a small cove, so protected the waters wa-ters were coin para ; ively ca 1m, al-t!ioi:u"!i al-t!ioi:u"!i the trees above bowed to the bia-d. and out beyond the headland I couM see lnr.i'0 waves, whitened with foam, and perceive the clouds of spray f.ung up by the roeks. It was a wild scone, the roar of (he breakers loud aval oouiluuous. and the black clouds i!y:;vr above with dizzy rapidity. Al! tho horror winch I had just passed t.ic-oauh seemed typified in the scene, and I covered my face with my hands. ''V.ui you think they they are ail gone;" I asked, forcing the words fiwu mo. 'C'i. no." he answered eagerly, and has haul bun bed me. "lo not give v.'-y to that t''mj!ir. I d-uiht if any in yen:- ca r.o- ma.de shore. Put the on. a ; i.o ba in groat danger. rX: . cuM ran before the storm until 1 i;ay .' ' s : :e nlm: in the cast line to y" 1 i p. a;ec.l "i. The srcea.tu" was i, , v u: a.nd when m:e of Wpl; a:i Indian tl. you would have llaa;cd," ''i"l:t n wlia t ca. n we d i ?" ' I'l., -v is na a.al.r lla.t I see, but vni.t. M'a-aem' C,i: m will be blown eanrh, hut will re; mm when the s;orm sulisides to m'i 1; van. No doubt he wiil think you dead, yet will scarcely leave wilhont s".i" h. See. the sky grows lighter already, and the wind is less :;cree. It would be my tlvu:;ht to attain the woods yonder, and build e fire to dry our clothes; the air ehilN." i l looked vere he pointed, up a nar row rift; in the rocks, yet scarcely felt strength or courage to attempt the a -scent. II'-' must have read this in my face, and seen my form shiver as the wind struck my wet garments, for he made instant decision. "Ah. I have a better thought than that, for you are too weak to attempt the ciimb. Here, lie down, madame, and I will cover you with the sand. It is warm and dry. Then I will clamber up yonder and fling wood down; 'twill be but a short time until we have a cheerful blaze here." From where I lay my head on a on in mock of sand, my body completely com-pletely buried, I could watch him scale the rocks, making use of the rift in the face of the cliff, and finding no great ditliculty. At the top he looked back, waved his hand, and then disappeared dis-appeared among the trees. All was silent about me, except for the dash of distant waves, and the rustle of branches far overhead. I gazed up at the sky, where the clouds were thinning, giving glimpses of faintest blue, and began to collect my own thoughts, and realize my situation. D'Artigny appeared at the edge of the cliff, and called to reassure me of his presence. He had his arms filled with broken bits of wood which were tossed to the sand, and a moment later he descended the rift in the wall and paused beside me. "No sign of anyone up there," he said, and, I felt, not regretfully. "The canoes must have been blown some distance down the coast." "Were you able to see far." "Ay, several leagues, for we are upon a headland, and there Is a wide sweep of bay below. The shore line Vx C; jib He Lifted Me to My Feet. is abrupt and the waves stil! high. Indeed I saw no spot in all that distance dis-tance where a boat might make safe lauding. Are you becoming dry?" "I am at least warm, and already feel much stronger. Would it not be best, monsieur, for us to scale the cliff and wait our rescuers there, where we can keep lookout?" "If you feel able to climb the rocks, although the passage is not dilhcuir. A boat might pass us by here and never he s'X'n er kuow of our practice, pra-ctice, unless we keep up a tire." I held out my hand to him and he helped me to my feet. The warmth of the sand while it had not entirely dried my clothing had given me fresh vigor, and I stood erect, requiring no assistance. With this knowledge a new assurance seemed to take possession posses-sion of me, and I looked about and smiled. "I am gla.d to know you can laugh' he said eagerly. "I have felt that our ; In iug tints shipwrecked together was not altogether to your liking." "And why?" I asked, pretending surprise. "Doing shipwrecked, of course, could scarcely appea 1 to me, but I am surely not uiigra'.c'ul to you for saving my life." "As to that, I did no more than any man might be expected to do," he protested. pro-tested. "Hut you have avoided me for weeks past, and it can scarcely he pleasant now to be alone with me I here' "Avoided you! Rather should I af-;hm af-;hm it was your own ehoiee. monsieur. If I recall aright I gave you my confidence con-fidence once, h'tig ago on the Ottawa, and you refused my request of assistance. assist-ance. Since then you have scarcely been of our parry." "All." he burst forth. ' I have ho3n ot'reutimes nearer you than you thought. I could not forget what you said 10 me at that last me. ting, or the appeal you made for my assistance. I ; tvailr.e the position you are in, madame. married by force to a man you des; No, a wife only in name, and endeavoring to protect yourself by wit alone. I could not forget all this, nor be indifferent. I have been in j your camp at night ay, more than I once dreaming I might be of some aid to you, and to assure mysf of i your safety." I "You have guarded me?" "As best I could, without arousing the wrath of Monsieur Cassiou. You are not angry? It was but the duty of a friend." "No, I am not angry, monsieur, yet it was not needed. I do not fear Cassion, so long as I can protect myself, my-self, for if he attempts evil it will find some form of treachery. lint, monsieur, later I gave him the pledge he asked." "The pledge! What pledge?" "That I would neither meet, nor communicate with you until our arrival ar-rival at Fort St. Louis." My eyes fell before his earnest gaze, and I felt my limbs tremble. "Mon dieu! Why? There was some special cause?" "Yes, monsieur listen. Do not believe be-lieve this is my thought, yet I must tell you the truth. Hugo Chevet was found dead, murdered, at St. lgnace. 'Twas the morning of our departure, and your boat had already gone. Cassion Cas-sion accused you of the crime, as some of the men saw you coining from the direction where the body was found late at night, and others reported that you two had quarreled the evening before. Cassion would have tried you offhand, using his authority as commander com-mander of the expedition, but promised prom-ised not to file charges until we reached St. Touis, if I made pledge 'twas then that I gave him my word." D'Artigny straightened up, the expression ex-pression on his face one of profound astonishment. "He he accused me," he asked, "of murder to win your promise?" "No, monsieur; he believed the charge true, and I pledged myself to assure you a fair trial." "Then you believed also that I was guilty of the foul crime?" I caught my breath, yet there was nothing for me to do but give him a frank answer. "I I have given no testimony, monsieur," mon-sieur," I faltered, "but I I saw you in the moonlight bending over Che-vet's Che-vet's dead body." CHAPTER XfV. We Exchange Confidences. My eyes fell before his; I could not look into his face, yet I had a sense that he was actually glad to hear my words. There was no anger, rather happiness and relief in the gray eyes. "And you actually believed I struck the blow? You thought me capable of driving a knife into the man's back to gain revenge?" "Monsieur, what could I think?" I urged eagerly. "It did not seem possible, pos-sible, yet I saw you with my owu eyes. You know of the murder, hut you made no report, raised no alarm, and in the morning your boat was I gone before the body was found by i others." i "True, yet there was a reason which J I can confess to' you. You also discovered dis-covered the body that night, yet aroused no alarm. I saw you. Why did you remain silent? Was it to protect me from suspicion?" i I bent my head, but failed to find 1 word-s with which lo answer. D'Arti-- D'Arti-- gny scarcely permitted me time. "That is the truth ; your silence tells me it was for my sake you remained still. Is it not possible, Ade'o. that my purpose was the same? Listen to me, my girl, and have faith in m words I a 111 not guiliy of Hugo Che-vet's Che-vet's death. I did not like the man, it is true, and we exchanged words in anger while loading the boats, but I never gave the matter second thought. That was nut the first night of this journey that I sought to assure myself my-self of your safety." "I know Monsieur Cassion and of what lie is capable, and felt that some time there would occur between you a struggle so at every camping place, where it wa.s possible. I have watched. It was for that purpose I approached the Mission house. I gained glimpse within, and saw Cassiou Cas-siou asieep on a bench, and knew you had retired to the chamber above. I was satis lied, and started to return to t h e camp. On my w a y back I j found Ciievet's body at the edge of '. the wood. I discovered how he had been killed a knife thrust in the back." "But you made no report; raised no alarm." T was confused, unable to decide what was best for me to do. I had no ! business being there. My first im-1 im-1 pulse was to arouse the Mission house; ' my second to return to camp and tell j the men there. With this last pur-J pur-J pose in view I entered the wood to descend the hill, but had hardly done j so when I caught sight of you in the moonlight, and remained there hidden, watching your movements with horror. hor-ror. I saw you go straight to the body, assure yourself the man was ! dead; then return to the Missiuu house and enter your room by way of the kitchen roof. Do you realize what your actions naturally meant to me'.-" I I stared at him. scarcely 'able to speak, yet in some way my lips formed words. "Ynu you thought I did it?" "What else could I think? You were hiding there; you examined the body; you crept secretly in through the window and gave no alarm." The horror of it all struck, me like a blow, and 1 covered my eyes with my bauds, no longer able to restrain my sobs. D'Artigny caught my hands and uncovered my face. "Do not break down, little girl." he entreated. "It is better so. for now we understand each other. You sought to shield me. and I endeavored to protect pro-tect you. 'Twas a strange misunderstanding, misunder-standing, and, but for the accident to the canoe, might have had a tragic ending." "You would never have told?" "Of seeing you there? of suspecting you? Could you think that possible?" "Hut you would have been condemned; con-demned; the evidence was all against you." "Let us not talk .of that now," he insisted. "We have come back to a faith in each other. You believe my word?" "Yes." "And I yours." His handclasp tightened, and there was that In his eyes which frightened me. "No. no, monsieur," I exclaimed and drew back quickly. "Do not say more, for I am here with you alone, and there will be trouble enough when Cassiou returns." "Do T not know that?" he said, yet releasing my hands. "Still it can surely sure-ly do no harm for us to understand each .other. You care nothing for Cassion; you dislike, despise the man, and there is naught sacred in your marriage. We are in the wilderness, not Quebec, and La Barre has little authority here. You have protected me with your silence was it not because be-cause you cared for me?" "Yes, monsieur; you have been my friend." "Your friend! Is that all?" "Is that not enough, monsieur? I like you well; I would save you from injustice. You could not respect me if I said more, for I am Monsieur Cassion's wife by rite of Holy church. I do not fear him he is a coward; but I fear dishonor, monsieur, for I am Adele la Chesnayne. I would respect re-spect myself and you." The light of conquest vanished from the gray eyes. For a moment he stood silent and motionless; then he drew a step backward and bowed. "Your rebuke is just, madame," he said soberly. "We of the frontier grow careless in a land where might is right, and I have had small training save in camp and field. I crave your pardon for my offense." So contrite was his expression I had to smile, realizing for the first time the depth of his interest in my good will, yet the feeling which swayed me was not altogether that of pleasure. He-was not one to yield so quietly, or to long restrain the words burning his tongue, yet I surrendered to my first impulse, and extended my hand. "There is nothing to pardon, Sieur d'Artigny," I said frankly. "There is no one to whom I owe more of courtesy cour-tesy than you. I trust you fully, and believe your word, and iu return I ask the same faith. Under the conditions condi-tions confronting us we must aid each other. We have both made mistakes in thus endeavoring to shield one another an-other from suspicion, and. as a result, are both equally in peril. Our being alone together here will enrage Mon- k AW S J - 5 'r- : J 1 : His Handclasp Tightened, and There Wss That in His Eyes Which Frightened Me. iqrnr Cassion. and ho will use all his ;ower for rov.ii;je. My testimony " ill only make your case more di'serato should. I confess what I know, and you r.iiirht east suspicion upon ine " "You do not believe I would. " "No. I do not, and yet. perchance, it mi.-'ht be better for us both if I made full confession. I hesitate merely mere-ly because Cassion would doubt my word; would conclude that I merely souirht to protect you. I'.efore others ! fair-minded judges at St. Louis I 1 should have no hesitancy in telling the whole story, for there is nothinu' I did of which I am ashamed, but here, where Cassion has full authority, such a confession would mean your deiii." |