again
as if his lips yearned for hers; but his love of mischief
was too strong for every other desire. For her part, she
took him exactly as she should have done. She never
pouted;--If she had done so, I fancy that there would
have been soon an end of the wild, boyish, sunny raillery.

"Hallo! Little one, we are away, away in the rear. Set
your pony going, for we must keep up with our escort."
Away they went over the level plain, through flowers of
every name and dye, the fresh, exquisite, autumn breeze
bearing the scent of the myriad petals upon their faces.
After a sharp gallop over about three miles of plain,
they overtook the main body of the escort.

They now reached the border, and the pavements of the
little town of Pembina rang with the hoofs of their
horses. Away still to the south, they rode through the
glorious autumn night, under the calm, bountiful moon.

"Now, Monsieur Riel, I think we are some distance from
your foul talons," Scott said, as turning in his saddle,
he saw the steeples of Pembina, gloom-wrapped, almost
sunk in the horizon. "I fancy I can hear the curses of
his willing tools in the air, after they swooped down
upon your cottage, Marie, and found the inmates flown."

"What is your uncle's cottage like, Monsieur Scott?"

"It is not unlike your own. It is in a grove of pines,
and a happy brook goes chattering by it all the summer.
Will you come fishing in it with me, ma petite?"

"Oui, avec le plus grand plaisir, Monsieur," and she
looked so happy, there was so much sun in her eyes, so
many divine little dimples in her cheek, in contemplation
of all the promised happiness, that it would not require
much keenness to discover the secret of the dear little
maiden.

"Of course, you shall fish with a pin-hook. I am not
going to see you catch yourself with one of the barbed
hooks, like those which I shall use."

"O, Monsieur Scott! Why will you always treat me as a
baby!" and there was the most delicate, yet an utterly
indescribable sort of reproach in her voice and attitude,
as she spoke these words.

"Then it is not a baby by any means," and he looked with
undisguised admiration upon the maiden, with all the
mystic grace and perfect development of her young womanhood.
"It is a woman, a perfect little woman, a fairer a sweeter,
my own mignonette, than any girl ever seen in this part
of the plains since first appeared here human footprint."

"O, Monsieur is now gone to the other ex