lly, and as
if they were matters of the least importance. The consequence was that
he put Pauline into something like good humour. He made her smile
faintly at several of his stories, and when she would relapse in the
listlessness either of debility or retrospective thoughts, he would
recall the light to her eye and the colour to her cheeks by some
anecdote of stirring adventure. When after easy stages, the party
reached Valcartier, Pauline was sufficiently strong to step out of the
carriage, with the support of her father and Batoche. A proper house was
chosen at a little distance from the hamlet, and all the arrangements
were made for the convenience of the sojourners. Batoche remained with
them two days, endearing himself still more to both, if that were
possible, by his kind, intelligent attentions. When he was on the point
of departure, Pauline said to him:

"Do not tell anybody that I am here."

"But I thought you said you wanted to see Zulma?"

"Not now. A little later."

"Very well. I will not tell anybody. I did not intend to."

And he smiled in his peculiar way. Pauline could not help smiling a
little too, seeing clearly that the old wizard knew all.

Batoche's pleasant manner deserted him, however, on the way, and he thus
discoursed with himself, as he trudged along:

"I could not insist on Montmorenci or Pointe-aux-Trembles, but
Valcartier is a mistake. Pauline will not find there what she seeks. I
have promised silence and will keep it. Indeed, I did not mean to
divulge her retreat, for it is no business of a rough old fellow like me
to interfere in the affairs of young people. But all the same Pauline's
solitude must be found out, and I have no doubt it will be found out. If
it is not, the poor child will pine and perish there just as certainly
as she would have done within the walls of Quebec."

These previsions almost at once entered upon their fulfilment. Scarcely
had Batoche turned his back on Valcartier, than an overpowering feeling
of loneliness fell upon Pauline. The improvement which the excitement of
the journey and the company of the aged soldier had induced disappeared
immediately. M. Belmont's hopefulness was replaced by a new alarm, which
was increased when he discovered that there was no physician in the
village. This contingency he had not foreseen, having been assured by
his own family doctor that Pauline, with the exception of a few tonics
and restoratives which he furnished, need