Her father had been summoned to France on the loss of the Colony;
and fearing to face him on his return, Caroline suddenly left her
home and sought refuge in the forest among her far-off kindred, the
red Abenaquais.
The Indians welcomed her with joy and unbounded respect, recognizing
her right to their devotion and obedience. They put upon her feet
the moccasins of their tribe, and sent her, with a trusty escort,
through the wilderness to Quebec, where she hoped to find the
Intendant, not to reproach him for his perfidy,--her gentle heart
was too much subdued for that,--but to claim his protection, and if
refused, to die at his door.
It was under such circumstances that the beautiful, highborn
Caroline de St. Castin became an inmate of Beaumanoir. She had
passed the night of this wild debauch in a vigil of prayers, tears,
and lamentations over her sad lot and over the degradation of Bigot
by the life which she now knew he led. Sometimes her maddened fancy
was ready to accuse Providence itself of cruelty and injustice;
sometimes, magnifying her own sin, she was ready to think all
earthly punishment upon herself as too light, and invoked death and
judgment as alone adequate to her fault.
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