e!"

"If you will be so kind. I stopped there last night. Tell old
Jacques--that's the proprietor--to send some kind of a trap down here
for me--a sled, if nothing else."

"I'll be back in ten minutes," exclaimed Rose, mounting Regina with
wonderful celerity, and flying off.

Old Jacques--a wizen little habitant--was distressed at the news, and
ran off instantly to harness up his old mare, and sled. Madame Jacques
placed a mattress on the sled and the vehicle started.

"Who is the gentleman?" Rose asked carelessly, as they rode along.

Old Jacques didn't know. He had stopped there last night, and paid them,
but hadn't told them his name or his business.

A few minutes brought them to the scene of the tragedy. The stranger
lifted those dark eyes of his, and looked so unspeakably handsome, that
Rose was melted to deeper compassion than ever.

"I am afraid you are nearly frozen to death," she said, springing
lightly to the ground. "Let us try if we cannot help you on to the
sled."

"You are very kind," replied the stranger, laughing and accepting. "It
is worth while having a sprained ankle, after all."

Rose and old Jacques got him on the sled between them though his lips
were white with suppressed pain in the effort.

"I sent Jean Baptiste for Dr. Pillule," said old Jacques as he started
the mare. "Monsieur will be--what you call it--all right, when Dr.
Pillule comes."

"Might I ask--but, perhaps it would be asking too much?" the stranger
said, looking at Rose.

"What is it?"

"Will you not return with us, and hear whether Dr. Pillule thinks my
life in danger?"

Rose laughed.

"I never heard of any one dying from a sprained ankle. _Malgre cela_, I
will return if you wish it, since you got it in my behalf."

Rose's steed trotted peaceably beside the sled to the farm-house door.
All the way, the wounded hero lay looking up at the graceful girl, with
the rose-red cheeks and auburn curls, and thinking, perhaps, if he were
any judge of pictures, what a pretty picture she made.

Rose assisted in helping him into the drawing room of the
establishment--which was a very wretched drawing-room indeed. There was
a leather lounge wheeled up before a large fire, and thereon the injured
gentleman was laid.

Doctor Pillule had not yet arrived, and old Jacques stood waiting
further orders.

"Jacques, fetch a chair. That is right; put it up here, near me. Now you
can go. Mademoiselle, do me the favour to be seated