She cared not to intercede too much, or enough to
ensure success. In her heart she wished La Corriveau well out of
the way, that all memory of the tragedy of Beaumanoir might be swept
from the earth, except what of it remained hid in her own bosom.
She juggled with the appeals of La Corriveau, keeping her in hopes
of pardon until the fatal hour came, when it was too late for La
Corriveau to harm her by a confession of the murder of Caroline.
The hill of Levis, where La Corriveau was gibbetted, was long
remembered in the traditions of the Colony. It was regarded with
superstitious awe by the habitans. The ghost of La Corriveau long
haunted, and, in the belief of many, still haunts, the scene of her
execution. Startling tales, raising the hair with terror, were told
of her around the firesides in winter, when the snow-drifts covered
the fences, and the north wind howled down the chimney and rattled
the casement of the cottages of the habitans; how, all night long,
in the darkness, she ran after belated travellers, dragging her cage
at her heels, and defying all the exorcisms of the Church to lay her
evil spirit!
Our tale is now done.
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