fended old Batoche," she murmured, folding the paper and
hiding it in her bosom. "He would have been just my man."

She had scarcely uttered the words when her father entered and said:

"Batoche asks to see you, my dear."

V.

ZULMA AND BATOCHE.

The old soldier made his appearance at once. He held his cap in his
hand, his head was bowed, and he appeared slightly disconcerted.

"You have returned, Batoche," said Zulma, rising and advancing towards
him.

"I have returned, mademoiselle."

"You are not offended with me, then?"

"Mademoiselle!"

"Batoche, I am delighted to see you."

The old man looked up, and satisfied that the welcome was sincere, said:

"I had walked nearly two miles, thinking of all you had told me, and
forgetting everything else. Suddenly I remembered something. I stopped.
I reflected. I returned at once and here I am."

Zulma burst out laughing:

"What did you remember, Batoche?"

"That perhaps you might desire to send an answer to the note which I
brought. Excuse me, mademoiselle, I was young once. I know what girls
are."

And his little grey eyes twinkled.

Zulma laid her hand upon his shoulder, and with a half serious, half
jesting caress, replied:

"They call you sorcerer, Batoche. How could you thus divine my thoughts?
Listen. It is an hour since you left me. During that time I have been
occupied reading the note and reflecting upon it. I ended by deciding to
answer it at once. But where was my messenger? I thought of you, and
was expressing regret at your departure, when you were announced."

Batoche's face beamed with pleasure. Not only was he satisfied with the
result of his sagacity, but it afforded him the keenest joy to be able
to render a service to Zulma after the semblance of altercation which
had taken place between them. In the strife of generosity the old
soldier was not to be outdone, and he was rather flattered to believe
that, if anything, the balance was to be in his favour. He gave
expression to none of these thoughts, however. He contented himself with
observing that, as the afternoon was advancing, and he must reach Quebec
by nightfall, it was desirable that Zulma should make as little delay as
possible.

"Certainly, Batoche," she replied. "If you will sit down a moment, I
will write a few lines."

He did as he was desired. Zulma went to her writing table, spread out
her paper and with great deliberation proceeded to her task. She wrote
with