f war!--the fortune of war, and a cruel fortune it is at the
best!"

The Lady de Tilly pressed her hand to her bosom to suppress the rising
emotion. "Alas, Chevalier! poor widows! I feel all they suffered. War is
indeed a cruel fortune, as I too have had reason to learn."

"And what became of the poor women, godfather?" Amelie's eyes were
suffused with tears: it was in her heart, if ever in any mortal's, to
love her enemies.

"Oh, we cared for them the best we could. The Baron de St. Castin
sheltered them in his chateau for the winter, and his daughter devoted
herself to them with the zeal and tenderness of a saint from Heaven--a
noble, lovely girl, Amelie!" added La Corne, impressively; "the fairest
flower in all Acadia, and most unfortunate, poor girl! God's blessing
rest upon her, wherever she may be!" La Corne St. Luc spoke with a depth
of emotion he rarely manifested.

"How was she unfortunate, godfather?" Philibert watched the cheek flush
and the eyelid quiver of the fair girl as she spoke, carried away by her
sympathy. His heart went with his looks.

"Alas!" replied La Corne, "I would fain not answer, lest I distrust the
moral government of the universe. But we are blind creatures, and God's
ways are not fashioned in our ways. Let no one boast that he stands,
lest he fall! We need the help of the host of Heaven to keep us upright
and maintain our integrity. I can scarcely think of that noble girl
without tears. Oh, the pity of it! The pity of it!"

Lady de Tilly looked at him wonderingly. "I knew the Baron de St.
Castin," said she. "When he came to perform homage at the Castle of St.
Louis, for the grant of some lands in Acadia, he was accompanied by his
only daughter, a child perfect in goodness, grace, and loveliness. She
was just the age of Amelie. The ladies of the city were in raptures over
the pretty Mayflower, as they called her. What, in heaven's name, has
happened to that dear child, Chevalier La Corne?"

La Corne St. Luc, half angry with himself for having broached
the painful topic, and not used to pick his words, replied
bluntly,--"Happened, my Lady! what is it happens worst to a woman? She
loved a man unworthy of her love--a villain in spite of high rank and
King's favor, who deceived this fond, confiding girl, and abandoned her
to shame! Faugh! It is the way of the Court, they say; and the King has
not withdrawn his favor, but heaped new honors upon him!" La Corne put
a severe curb upon his