to this bold measure, but the impetuous girl
over-ruled them all, and, after writing a splendid diplomatic letter,
she had concluded arrangements to have it safely delivered to the
prelate, when an unforeseen event saved her from the consequences of her
amiable rashness.

As we have said, time had passed briskly on since the terrible events of
the New Year's Eve. January had glided into February, and March had come
with the promise of an unusually early spring. No military events of any
importance had occurred, at least, none that had any connection with our
story, and beyond the circumstances attached to Cary's long illness,
there happened nothing which need make us linger over those bleakest
months of the winter.

Singleton had so far recovered as to be able to walk about, but he
remained very feeble, without the opportunity of taking that free
exercise necessary to his complete restoration. It was awkward for him
to tarry much longer in the house of M. Belmont. The seclusion of prison
life was interdicted by the humane physician, while there were clear
military objections to his being allowed to circulate in the streets of
Quebec. Fortunately the doubt was solved by a partial exchange of
prisoners which took place about the middle of March, and in which by a
special privilege, Cary was included.

The parting from Pauline was very trying. The young man could not
explain to himself the regret which it caused him. It grew out of
something distinct from and far above his gratitude for her nursing, and
the sense of obligation for the saving of his life which he was
conscious he could never discharge. In those long afternoons, within the
curtained gloom of the sick chamber: during those longer sleepless
nights, with their companionship of silence and the sole intercourse of
the eyes; in those frequent conversations made up for the most part of
commonplaces, but relieved at times by unbidden revelations of the
heart; in those brief but not infrequent visions of Pauline's beauty
brought about by sudden graceful movements of her body, or when she
appeared under certain favourable effects of the window light; in those
intuitive glimpses of her real character made doubly attractive by its
constant element of sadness, and the suspicion of self-sacrifice, Cary
had woven about his heart an unconscious chain, the power of which he
could not understand until called upon to burst it.

Nor did he gather any comfort from Pauline's