The guests had deserted the hall fire and a sentinel was set for the
night before Madame La Tour knocked at Antonia's door.

Antonia was slow to open it. But she finally let Marie into her chamber,
where the fire had died on the hearth, and retired again behind the
screen to continue dabbing her face with water. The candle was also
behind the screen, and it threw out Antonia's shadow, and showed her
disordered flax-white hair flung free of its cap and falling to its
length. Marie sat down in the little world of shadow outside the screen.
The joists directly above Antonia flickered with the flickering light.
One window high in the wall showed the misty darkness which lay upon
Fundy Bay. The room was chilly.

"Monsieur Corlaer is gone, Antonia," said Marie.

Antonia's shadow leaped, magnifying the young Dutchwoman's start.

"Madame, you have not sent him off on his journey in the night?"

"I sent him not. I begged him to remain. But he had such cold welcome
from his own countrywoman that he chose the woods rather than the
hospitality of Fort St. John."

Much as Antonia stirred and clinked flasks, her sobs grew audible behind
the screen. She ran out with her arms extended and threw herself on the
floor at Marie's knees, transformed by anguish. Marie in full compassion
drew the girlish creature to her breast, repenting herself while Antonia
wept and shook.

"I was cruel to say Monsieur Corlaer is gone. He has only left the
fortress to camp with his men at the falls. He will be here two more
days, and to-morrow you must urge him to stay our guest."

"Madame, I dare not see him at all!"

"But why should you not see Monsieur Corlaer?"

Antonia settled to the floor and rested her head and arms on her
friend's lap.

"For you love him."

"O madame! I did not show that I loved him? No. It would be horrible for
me to love him."

"What has he done? And it is plain he has come to court you."

"He has long courted me, madame."

"And you met him as a stranger and fled from him as a wolf!--this
Hollandais gentleman who hath saved our French people--even
priests--from the savages!"

"All New Amsterdam and Fort Orange hold him in esteem," said Antonia,
betraying pride. "I have heard he can do more with the Iroquois tribes
than any other man of the New World." She uselessly wiped her eyes. She
was weak from long crying.

"Then why do you run from him?"

"Because he hath too witching a power on me, madame. I cannot