r father was much pleased, as he too had not outlived the effect
produced upon him by the visit of Bouchette. Furthermore, the weather
may have contributed to the pleasantness that reigned in the house. The
sun was shining brightly, the wind had fallen, and the snow lay crisp
upon the streets inviting to a promenade.

Hardinge called about noon for the purpose of asking Pauline to
accompany him in a little walk.

"I have a couple of hours before me--a thing I may not have every
day--and a ramble will do both of us good," he said.

Pauline was soon ready with the cordial consent of her father.

After wandering through the streets for some time, and stopping to speak
to friends whom they met, the two wended their way towards Cape Diamond.
On the top of that portion of the citadel they were quite alone, and
they could commune together without interruption. They both appeared to
be pleased with this, each probably feeling that they had something to
say to the other, or rather that they might touch upon topics,
untouched before, which might lead to better mutual understanding.
Roderick was a trifle graver and more reserved than his companion.
Pauline made nothing of that, attributing it to his military anxieties,
a supposition which his conversation at first seemed to justify.

"This is an exposed point," said he, "which in a few days none of us
will be able to occupy. When the whole rebel army moves up from
Pointe-aux-Trembles, they can easily shell us out of this side of the
citadel."

"But it is a good point of observation, is it not?" asked Pauline.

"Capital, though not so good as that one higher up which is well guarded
and where double sentries will always be posted."

As he spoke, Roderick caught view of moving figures on the highway near
the Plains of Abraham.

"Look Pauline," he said. "Do you know those fellows?"

"I do not. Are they soldiers?"

"They call themselves Virginia riflemen. They are the advance guard of
the rebel army. They have been prowling around for the past two days."

"Virginia riflemen, Roddy?" said Pauline looking up with an expression
of languid inquiry in her dark eyes.

"Yes. You ought to know something about them. Don't you remember the
young officer who escorted you to the gates the day before yesterday?"

"Oh," replied Pauline, with no attempt to conceal her surprise or
interest, "you don't mean to say that he is down there among those poor
unsheltered men?"

"I do, certa