To amuse herself and observe All Hallows Eve, she lit a bonfire to ward off ghosts and wandering souls. It was twilight, and the wind sighed sadly as it passed through the pines, and the sky was a steely gray. Darcy shivered as she looked up at the ceiling of clouds. It was indeed an eerie evening, and back in Ireland they would have spoken of the Banshee walking. Raoul was late tonight, and Darcy knew that the conversation and tobacco must be entertaining. The bonfire crackled and popped on the banks of the Chaudière, sending sparks flying high into the night sky. She gazed into the flames, thinking of the ghost stories she heard as a child and smiled to herself. A movement caught her eye, and she saw a figure coming toward her along the banks of the river. Many travelers came down from Quebec, following the river, and Darcy looked back at the fire, unconcerned. As the traveler came closer, she looked once more, and she could see in the twilight that it was a white man, but he was not in the dress of a voyageur. His clothing appeared to be that of a settler. Something was familiar about the figure, and it gave Darcy pause. She stood motionless and stared at him. The closer the man came, the more anxious Darcy felt, and fear began to wash over her. She thought perhaps it was a ghost. Suddenly the specter dropped his pack and began to run. In an instant he was upon her, kissing her face and her hair. It was Jean Michel. "My God, you're alive! You're alive!" he kept repeating as he held her face and kissed her lips and her cheeks over and over again. Darcy was stunned. With her arms at her side she stared at him as if he were not real. This cannot be happening; Jean Michel would never be standing on the banks of the Chaudière, holding her. This is a cruel trick played on her by fairies. The brilliant light of the bonfire flooded them as Jean Michel brushed the hair away from her face. "I have come to take you back. You are safe now." "How did you find me?" she asked, breathlessly. "The Abenaki told me that you had been taken to Quebec, and after searching there for months, I gave up and was returning to the English Colonies. It is purely by the grace of God that I find you now." He pulled her close to him and held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. "Tell me that you still love me, Darcy." She felt his strong legs against her. He bent her head back and kissed her deeply. Instantly she was drowning in desire. It had been so long since she had felt passion, and now, as he lavished his affection on her, she lost her head. His lips moved down her neck as his fingers pressed into her back, and they embraced, in the firelight until Darcy pushed him away and gasped, "No, you must not, Jean Michel!" “Why?" he said, as he stepped back. "Because I am a married woman." He looked incredulous and searched her eyes for answers. Just as she was about to explain, a voice shouted, "Bon Soir!" They turned and saw Raoul walking down the hill with a smile on his face. "Welcome, wayfarer!" he said to Jean Michel in French. "I am Raoul LaRoche and this is my wife, Madame LaRoche. May we help you?"