nearly at
an end.

At last, on the second day of the storm, her eye caught sight, on the
broken horizon, of a sail. Steadily she watched it till there could no
longer be any doubt of its reality; and then she heaped a huge pile of
brushwood upon her fire. They had seen it! Nearer and nearer the vessel
was drawing. At last she was to be rescued!

CHAPTER XVII

When Charles arrived at St Malo he found that his messenger, Etienne
Brule, had reached the town in safety, and that De Roberval's horse was
being well looked after in Cartier's stables. No pursuit was attempted,
and it became evident that Etienne's master would make no effort to
bring him back.

In fact, De Roberval, who knew that La Pommeraye was the soul of honour,
and that no one would believe him capable of a falsehood, felt that his
own wisest course would be silence. He knew that at the least move on
his part La Pommeraye would be able to turn all tongues against him; and
if the young man had, as he had hinted, any influence with the Duke of
Guise, he would undoubtedly call down upon him the heavy hand of the
great minister, who had already no love for the ambitious little
nobleman.

Charles, too, was kept silent by what he had learned. His old sunny
smile had left him, and when he spoke, his once full, mellow voice had a
hard, metallic ring. Cartier scarce recognised him, and his questions
received but scant answers, which kept him from enquiring further.

"De Pontbriand may still live," said Charles. "Mdlle. de Roberval may
still live, and I must restore them to France, or make sure that they
are dead. If I find them not, God help De Roberval!"

"God help him in any case!" said Cartier to himself. "Your spirit will
never rest till it has spilt the little tyrant's blood. But when," he
added, "do you expect to start for the New World?"

"At once."

"Nay, that's impossible. You would have some difficulty in getting
sailors to venture out on the Atlantic at this season."

"If I cannot get men to accompany me," said Charles, "Etienne and I will
go alone;" and as he spoke, Etienne, who was standing by in Cartier's
orchard, where the conversation took place, nodded assent, and muttered
a determined "Ay, that we will!" He, too, was thinking of his fair young
mistress, who had always seemed to him like one of the blessed saints;
and when he pictured her pining for her home through the dreary autumn
and torturing winter in Canada, he would gladl