oward what appeared to be the shore of delight. He saw at a
glance that Farnsworth's love for Alice was a consuming passion in a
very ardent yet decidedly weak heart. Here was the worldly lever with
which Father Beret hoped to raze Alice's prison and free her from the
terrible doom with which she was threatened.

The first interview was at Father Beret's cabin, to which, as will be
remembered, the priest and Farnsworth went after their meeting in the
street. It actually came to nothing, save an indirect understanding but
half suggested by Father Beret and never openly sanctioned by Captain
Farnsworth. The talk was insinuating on the part of the former, while
the latter slipped evasively from every proposition, as if not able to
consider it on account of a curious obtuseness of perception. Still,
when they separated they shook hands and exchanged a searching look
perfectly satisfactory to both.

The memory of that interview with the priest was in Farnsworth's mind
when, boiling with rage, he left Hamilton's presence and went forth
into the chill February air. He passed out through the postern and
along the sodden and queachy aedge of the prairie, involuntarily making
his way to Father Beret's cabin. His indignation was so great that he
trembled from head to foot at every step. The door of the place was
open and Father Beret was eating a frugal meal of scones and sour wine
(of his own make, he said), which he hospitably begged to share with
his visitor. A fire smouldered on the hearth, and a flat stone showed,
by the grease smoking over its hot surface, where the cakes had been
baked.

"Come in, my son," said the priest, "and try the fare of a poor old
man. It is plain, very plain, but good." He smacked his lips sincerely
and fingered another scone. "Take some, take some."

Farnsworth was not tempted. The acid bouquet of the wine filled the
room with a smack of vinegar, and the smoke from rank scorching fat and
wheat meal did not suggest an agreeable feast.

"Well, well, if you are not hungry, my son, sit down on the stool there
and tell me the news."

Farnsworth took the low seat without a word, letting his eyes wander
over the walls. Alice's rapier, the mate to that now worn by Hamilton,
hung in its curiously engraved scabbard near one corner. The sight of
it inflamed Farnsworth.

"It's an outrage," he broke forth. "Governor Hamilton sent a man to
Roussillon place with orders to bring him the scabbard of Miss
R