ieur, that this young man has lived all his life in
America. I know that he has been much in the woods in New England,
and has had much intercourse with the Indians there. It was, no
doubt, very easy for him to enter into communication with Indians
here. They are all alike."

"But how could he have found them? He must have had them at the
house, or else friends outside must have sent them."

"He might have bribed the people of the house."

"Impossible!"

"Monsieur does not mean to say that anything is impossible to one who
has gold. Men of this age do anything for gold."

Cazeneau was silent. To him this was so profoundly true that he had
nothing to say. He sat in silence for a little while, and then
continued:--

"I understand that at the time of the arrest of Motier, he was in the
garden of the residence, with the Countess de Laborde, and that you
were with them. How is this? Did this interview take place with your
sanction or connivance?"

"I knew nothing about it. It was by the merest accident, as far as I
know."

"You did not help them in this way?"

"I did not."

"Monsieur L'Abbe," said Cazeneau, "I am glad that you have answered
my questions so fully and so frankly. I confess that, in my first
anger, I considered that in some way you had taken part against me.
To think so gave me great pain, as I have had too high an esteem for
you to be willing to think of you as an enemy. But your explanations
are in every way satisfactory. T hope, monsieur, that whatever
letters you receive from France, they will not take you away from
this part of the world. I feel confident that you, with your
influence over the Indians here, will be an invaluable ally to one in
my position, in the endeavors which I shall make to further in these
parts the interests of France and of the church."

CHAPTER XXI.

A RAY OF LIGHT.

After leaving Cazeneau, Pere Michel went to the prison where Claude
was confined. The young man looked pale and dejected, for the
confinement had told upon his health and spirits; and worse than the
confinement was the utter despair which had settled down upon his
soul. At the sight of the priest, he gave a cry of joy, and hurried
forward.

"I thought you had forgotten all about me," said Claude, as he
embraced the good priest, while tears of joy started to his eyes.

"I have never forgotten you, my son," said the priest, as he returned
his embrace; "that is impossible. I have thought of y