sts. A
pavilion of tapestry was set up for Lady Dorinda and all her treasures,
near the stairs: the southern window of her chamber had been made a
target.

Le Rossignol sat on a table, with the four expectant children still
dancing in front of her. Was it not Paques evening? The alarm being over
she again began her merriest tunes. Irregular life in a besieged
fortress had its fascination for the children. No bedtime laws could be
enforced where the entire household stirred. But to Shubenacadie such
turmoil was scandalous. He also lived in the hall during the day, and as
late at night as his mistress chose, but he lived a retired life,
squatted in a corner, hissing at all who passed near him. Perhaps he
pined for water whereon to spread his wings and sail. Sometimes he
quavered a plaintive remark on society as he found it, and sometimes he
stretched up his neck to its longest length, a sinuous white serpent,
and gazed wrathfully at the paneled ceiling. The firelight revealed him
at this moment a bundle of glistening satin, wrapped in sleep and his
wings from the alarms of war.

Marie stood at the hearth to receive Edelwald. He came striding from
among her soldiers, his head showing like a Roman's above the cowl. It
was dark-eyed, shapely of feature, and with a mouth and inward curve
above the chin so beautiful that their chiseled strength was always a
surprise. As he faced the lady of the fortress he stood no taller than
she did, but his contour was muscular.

After dropping on his knee to kiss her hand, he stood up to bear the
search of her eyes. They swept down his friar's dress and found it not
so strange that it should supplant her immediate inquiry,--

"Your news? My lord is well?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Is he without?"

"My lady, he is at the outpost at the head of Fundy Bay."

Her face whitened terribly. She knew what this meant. La Tour could get
no help. Nicholas Denys denied him men. There was no hope of rescue for
Fort St. John. He was waiting in the outpost for his ship to bring him
home--the home besieged by D'Aulnay. The blood returned to her face with
a rush, her mouth quivered, and she sobbed two or three times without
tears. La Tour could have taken her in his arms. But Edelwald folded his
empty arms across his breast.

"My lady, I would rather be shot than bring you this message."

"Klussman betrayed us, Edelwald! and I know I hurt men, hurt them with
my own hands, striking and shooting on the