Lights sparkled on the crescent shore of Beauport, and
the torches of fishermen flared upon the St. Charles. She looked back
once towards the heights of Quebec and saw the fires of many homes--they
scorched her eyes. She asked no questions. The priest beside her was
silent, not looking at her at all. At last he turned and said:
"Madame, whatever has happened, whatever may happen, I trust you will be
brave."
"Monsieur l'Abbe" she answered, "I have travelled from Boston here--can
you doubt it?"
The priest sighed. "May the hope that gave you strength remain, madame!"
A little longer and then they stood within a garden thick with plants and
trees. As they passed through it, Jessica was vaguely aware of the rich
fragrance of fallen leaves and the sound of waves washing the foot of the
cliffs.
The abbe gave a low call, and almost instantly Perrot stood before them.
Jessica recognised him. With a little cry she stepped to him quickly and
placed her hand upon his arm. She did not seem conscious that he was her
husband's enemy: her husband's life was in danger, and it must be saved
at any cost. "Monsieur," she said, "where is my husband? You know.
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