ule the seaports. It is to be more terrible than the riot of
murder at home."

He had remained standing while he talked. For half a minute the dark
figure and unchanging face bent over the embroidery-frame without a word
of reply. Then rising, she set a hand on each of his shoulders and said,
"You must go, Rene." Centuries of the training and creed of a race of
warlike men could not have failed to defeat love-born anxiety, and the
dread of loss, in a woman through whom had passed into the making of a
man certain ancestral qualities. "You must go," she repeated.

"Thank you, mother. I was afraid--"

"Of what?" she cried. "That I should be afraid for a man of my blood to
risk life where duty calls him?"

"No, mother; I was afraid that you might not see it all as I do."

"If, Rene, this were but a peaceful errand of months away, I should have
said no. The debts, all--all might have stood. I should have been
ashamed, but obstinate, my son. We will not discuss it. You must go. And
is it for long?" The clear, sweet voice broke a little. "Is it for very
long?"

"I do not know."

"Ah, well. I do not want to see you in the morning. When you are ready
to-night, you will say good-by."

"Yes, mother. And now I must pack my bag." And he left her.

That was strange, he thought. What would have made some women say no
decided her to say go. He smiled proudly. "It was like her," he
murmured.

When at eight that night he came to say good-by, she kissed him and said
only, "Write to me when you can." At nine Hugh Wynne had the answer he
confidently expected.

At dusk of day, the old black Cicero tramped after De Courval through
the snow, as full of thought he went on, his camlet cloak about him, and
under it the sword he had left in the Quaker's attic. He had told Mrs.
Swanwick and left a letter for Schmidt, taking, after some hesitation,
fifty dollars out of the drawer.

At daybreak, on the slip, Mr. Wynne waited with the captain. "Here,"
said the merchant, "are your instructions. Use your good sense. You have
it. Have no fear of assuming responsibility. Captain Biddle, in case of
doubt, trust Mr. Lewis to decide any question involving money."

"Oh, that is his name--Lewis."

"Yes; Mr. Lewis will show you my instructions." Then taking De Courval
aside, "You said no word of pay."

"No, sir."

"Very good. Some men would have bargained. I shall see that your salary
while absent, eighty dollars a month, is put in Mary Swa