hivalrous to women and children."

"Yet those were stern terms demanded from capitulating Louisbourg,"
spoke the Abbe thoughtfully.

"They were," said the lady, with a sigh; "and yet can we wonder so
greatly? England has suffered much from the methods we of France have
pursued in our warfare. But let us not think of that tonight; let us
remember only that English and French may be friends--individually--even
though our nations are at war. Let us entertain Monsieur with the best
at our command, and bid him Godspeed when he shall choose to leave us.

"Ah! and there I see my nephew Colin.

"Welcome, dear child; thou art child no longer.

"What a fine youth he has grown with the flight of years! I should
scarce have known him!"

Whilst aunt and nephew were exchanging amenities in one part of the
room, Corinne approached Fritz, who had risen to his feet at sight
of her, and putting out a hand said with a shy smile:

"I am glad to welcome you again, Monsieur."

"And I to see you once again, Mademoiselle," he replied. "I have
often wondered whether I should ever have that pleasure. The chance
of war has brought me and your brother face to face three times
already. But I scarce thought I should see you again. I thought
these troubled days would have sent you back to France. These are
strange places for tender maidens to abide in--these walled cities,
with guns without and within!"

"Ah, but I have no home in France," answered the girl, "and I would
not be sent away. I have grown to love this strange Western land
and the struggle and stress of the life here. I would fain see the
end of this mighty struggle. To which scale will victory incline,
think you, Monsieur? Will the flag of England displace that of
France over the town and fortress of this city of Quebec?"

"Time alone can show that," answered Fritz gravely; "and we must
not boast of coming victory after all the ignominious defeats that
we have suffered. But this I know--the spirit of England is yet
unbroken. She has set herself to a task, and will not readily turn
back from it. If the spirit of her sons is the same now as it was
in the days of which our fathers have told us, I think that she
will not quietly accept repulse."

Corinne's eyes flashed; she seemed to take a strange sort of pride
in anticipations such as these.

"I like that spirit," she cried; "it has not been the spirit of
France. She has boasted, boasted, boasted of all the wonders she
was