The stone disc worn by Alice chanced to
lie exactly in the missile's way, and while it was not broken, the
ball, already somewhat checked by passing through several folds of
Father Beret's garments, flattened itself upon it with a shock which
somehow struck Alice senseless.

Here again, history in the form of an ancient family document (a letter
written in 1821 by Alice herself), gives us the curious brace of
incidents, to wit, the breaking of the miniature on Beverley's breast
by a British musket-ball, and the stopping of Hamilton's bullet over
Alice's heart by the Indian charm-stone.

"Which shows the goodness of God," the letter goes on, "and also seems
to sustain the Indian legend concerning the stone, that whoever might
wear it could not be killed. Unquestionable (sic) Mr. Hamilton's shot,
which was aimed at poor, dear old Father Beret, would have pierced my
heart, but for that charm-stone. As for my locket, it did not, as some
have reported, save Fitzhugh's life when the musket-ball was stopped.
The ball was so spent that the blow was only hard enough to spoil
temporary (sic) the face of the miniature, which was afterwards
restored fairly well by an artist in Paris. When it did actually save
Fitzhugh's life was out on the Illinois plain. The savage, Long-Hair,
peace to his memory, worked the miracle of restoring to me--" Here a
fold in the paper has destroyed a line of the writing.

The letter is a sacred family paper, and there is not justification for
going farther into its faded and, in some parts, almost obliterated
writing. But so much may pass into these pages as a pleasant
authentication of what otherwise might be altogether too sweet a double
nut for the critic's teeth to crack.

While Adrienne and Alice were still discussing the probability of Rene
de Ronville's return, M. Roussillon came to the door. He was in search
of Madame, his wife, whom he had not yet seen.

He gathered the two girls in his mighty arms, tousling them with rough
tenderness. Alice returned his affectionate embrace and told him where
to find Madame Roussillon, who was with Dame Godere, probably at her
house.

"Nobody killed," he said, in answer to Alice's inquiry about the
catastrophe at the fort. "Some of 'em hurt and burnt a little. Great
big scare about nearly nothing. Ziff! my children, you should have seen
me quiet things. I put out my hands, this way--omme ca--pouf! It was
all over. The people went home."

His gestures