m their natural flush of blood felt the
strong throbs which paint a man's best on his face. They could not sing
the glory of death in duty, the goodness of God who gave love and valor
to man; but they could die with Edelwald.

The new master of Fort St. John was jealous of such dying as the song
ceased and he lifted his hand to signal his executioners. Father Jogues
turned away praying with tremulous lips. The Capuchin strode toward the
hall. But Van Corlaer and Lady Dorinda and Antonia held with the
strength of all three that broken-hearted woman who struggled like a
giantess with her arms stretched toward the scaffold.

"I _will_ save them--I _will_ save them! My brave Edelwald--all my brave
soldiers shall not die!--Where are my soldiers, Antonia? It is dark. I
cannot see them any more!"

POSTLUDE.

A TIDE-CREEK.

When ordinary days had settled flake on flake over this tragedy in
Acadia until memory looked back at it as at the soft outlines of a
snow-obliterated grave, Madame Van Corlaer stood one evening beside the
Hudson River, and for half an hour breathed again the salt breath of
Fundy Bay. Usually she was abed at that hour. But Mynheer had been
expected all day on a sailing vessel from New Amsterdam, and she could
not resist coming down once more through her garden to the wharf.

Van Corlaer's house, the best stone mansion in Rensselaerswyck--that
overflow of settlement around the stockade of Fort Orange--stood up the
slope, and had its farm appended. That delight of Dutchmen, an ample
garden, extended its central path almost like an avenue to the river.
Antonia need scarcely step off her own domain to meet her husband at the
wharf. She had lingered down the garden descent; for sweet herbs were
giving their souls to the summer night there; and not a cloud of a sail
yet appeared on the river. Some fishing-boats lay at the wharf, but no
men were idling around under the full moon. It was pleasanter to visit
and smoke from door to door in the streets above.

Antonia was not afraid of any savage ambush. Her husband kept the
Iroquois on friendly terms with the settlement. The years through which
she had borne her dignity of being Madame Van Corlaer constantly
increased her respect for that colonial statesman. The savages in the
Mohawk valley used the name Corlaer when they meant governor. Antonia
felt sure that the Jesuit missionary, Father Isaac Jogues, need not have
died a martyr's death if Van Corlae