ht to herself
that Jean might persuade her by that time, if he tried hard. As to his
success she had not really a grain of doubt. She knew well enough the
quality of his fibre. Her light feet, as she hurried, made hardly a
sound upon the soft mould of the trail, which was half-hidden by the
bright autumn carpeting of the leaves. But presently she heard the
noise of heavier footfalls approaching. Just ahead of her the trail
turned sharply. Peering through the tangle of branches and thinned
leafage, she caught glimpses of something that caused her face to grow
pale, her heart to throb up into her throat; and she stepped behind the
thick shelter of a fir bush to consider what was to be done.

The sight that so disturbed her was in itself no terrible one. A tall,
ruddy-faced, keen-eyed man, carelessly dressed, but of erect, military
bearing, came striding up the trail, a gun over his arm, a brown dog at
his heels. Barbe recognized him at once--the English officer in
command of the fort at Annapolis. She saw that he was out for
partridges--but she saw, also, that he was walking at a pace that would
speedily devour the scant two miles that divided him from the shipyard
of "Mon Reve." It was evident that he had forgotten his shooting in
his interest in this unknown trail upon which he had stumbled. If he
went on the game was up for Jean's little ship!

She resolved that he should not go on. It took her just five seconds
to decide the whole question. There was a large fallen tree close
beside the trail, two or three paces from where she hid. Over this she
threw herself discreetly, with a little choking scream, and lay moaning
among the leaves beside it.

The Englishman darted forward and was at her side in a moment, bending
over her with a mingling of alarm and admiration in his gray eyes.

"Mademoiselle," he cried, "what has happened? Are you much hurt?"

Receiving no answer, but more faint moans, he lifted her gently and
stood her on her feet; but the instant he released her she collapsed
upon the leaves, an appealing but intoxicating confusion of skirts, and
slim brown hands, and crinkly dark hair, and the corner of a red mouth,
and the glimpse of an ankle.

"Mademoiselle! Tell me what is the matter. Tell me what can I do.
Let me do something, I beg of you!" Lifting her again, he seated her
beside him on the fallen tree; and this time he did not at once release
her. At first, her eyes closed and her