cies, for eight long months--from November 1775 till May
1776--Quebec was virtually cut off from the rest of the world and the
theatre of one of the most important military events in the history of
America.

II.

CARY'S MESSAGE.

As soon as Pauline had entered the gates of the town, Cary Singleton
leaped into his sleigh and turned his horse's head towards the camp. But
before he could proceed, Batoche was at his side. The young officer had
not had occasion to exchange a single word with the singular being, but
his thoughts had been much occupied with him during the long night ride,
and it was with some satisfaction that he now had an opportunity of
addressing him.

"I must thank you, sir," said he, "for your service to the young lady."

"I did it for her sake, as she is my granddaughter's godmother. And for
her father's sake, who is an old friend," replied Batoche, quietly. And
he added immediately:

"I am prepared to do you a service, sir."

Cary looked at him in surprise. Was he in the presence of an enemy? Had
he fallen into an ambush from which this man was willing to rescue him?
Or if a friend, what service could he refer to? Might it be a message to
Pauline? Strange as it may seem--and perhaps it will not appear so
strange after all--the very thought, as it flashed upon him, created a
throbbing sensation in his heart. Had this little timid girl, after only
a few hours' interview, so ingratiated herself into his affections, that
the unexpected opportunity of communicating with her once more excited a
flutter of pleasurable surprise. Rapidly as these surmises passed
through his mind he had not time to resolve them, before Batoche resumed
in these simple words:

"I am returning at once to Sieur Sarpy's."

For a moment Cary was unable to make a syllable of reply. He looked hard
at the old man as if to fathom his inmost thoughts. But the latter did
not flinch. His countenance wore that expression of utter blankness and
conscious unconsciousness which is an attribute of resolute men, and
which only kindred spirits are gifted to understand.

Cary was as much impressed by his quiet manner as he had been by his
singular offer. He asked himself the following questions sharply one
after the other. What did this man know of him that he should connect
him in any way with the Sarpys? How should he be in possession of the
secret which had been hidden from all his comrades? Zulma did not know
him when he pres